#anyway! thanks for this i smiled sooo wide seeing it

[ddejavvu]

Helloo!! Sooo I have a picture of mgg as my lock screen but his face isn’t in the picture and I was wonderinggg if you could write about the girls at the bau seeing your background of your phone and it’s some guy but they don’t know it’s spencer and they ask all these questions about this mysterious secret boyfriend you have and asking to meet him and r is just like maybeeee idk knowing that they have in fact met him and maybe spencer is near by and hearing all this and is just all shy and flustered. If you do write this THANK YOUUU you’re writing it phenomenal, one of a kind, it’s so good!!! <333

"Woah, hubba hubba," JJ's eyes bug out at your phone screen, and Emily, forever on JJ's wavelength, snatches it out of your hands before you can properly dim the screen.

"Who is that?" Emily asks everyone's burning question, and one of Penelope's hands squeezes yours, with nails, to emphasize her urgency.

Your lock screen is a picture of Spencer's bare chest clad only in a blazer, the front open in a lewd V that showcases the dark pink kiss marks you'd spread across the smattering of wiry curls he's grown. It's not something you'd meant to flash your coworkers with, and Spencer chokes on his water while Derek hoots and hollers at it.

"There are some things that should be kept private," Rossi drawls, eyes wide and haunted as he stands, "I'm going to get Aaron and myself another refill, just in case any worse pictures get shown around the table."

Hotch laughs at the older man, amusement lining his features handsomely as the group continues to tease you.

"So, when are you bringing this guy around? Not that we'd recognize him anyways, unless he showed up shirtless with lipstick all over him."

"Derek, you-" You barely stop yourself from saying, 'you have met him', instead swerving into an easy insult, "You're the last person I want to introduce him to. You'll never let us live this down."

"None of us will." Prentiss promises, her grin wolfish, "You'll be lucky if Garcia doesn't manage to track him down using nipple-recognition software."

Your technical analyst cackles into her drink, and Spencer makes a hasty getaway.

"I need the bathroom," He paws with burning cheeks at Derek's leg, ushering the man out of his way so that he can speed-walk to the bathroom. You watch him go, hearing Hotch let out a rare laugh at his urgency.

"Poor Spence," JJ croons, "Did you see how red his face was?"

"That kid's almost thirty and I bet he can't even say the word 'sex' without blushing." Derek scoffs.

"He can't. I've seen it." Garcia confirms, "It's pathetic."

"Pathetic," You snort, but what your team hears as agreement, you mean as contradiction. Spencer was nothing close to pathetic that night- sweet and tender, yes, but pathetic, no. He'd cupped your face while you'd spread a smattering of sticky kisses across his chest, and he'd stared into your eyes when you'd taken the picture, a smile on his face even though he'd known his grin wouldn't be in frame.

"Well get all of it out now," Hotch advises, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spencer won't come back if we're still talking about it."

"I'm happy for you." Dave states, setting his and Aaron's drinks down, "But so help me, Y/N, if I ever see your boyfriend's naked torso again, I'll kill myself."

You refrain from telling Rossi he had just seen your boyfriend's bare torso, last week when Spencer had needed to be stripped of his cold, wet clothes, and thrust into a heated blanket for warmth. No one had batted an eye at his brief nudity, and neither had you, because you'd memorized every inch of his skin. You didn't need to ogle him; you could recall his body from memory.

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod at Rossi sagely, "Just don't go through the rest of my camera roll." You see Spencer exit the bathroom, peering cautiously at your table to see if he can predict the conversation before returning, "Or you'll find a lot worse than his chest."

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ SHE GOT MY HEARTBEAT SKIPPIN' DOWN 16TH AVENUE! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: he's always so confident and self-assured, but a couple kisses from you and he turns into a mess.

contents: fem!reader. kinda suggestive ending (inumaki's comment). you spend half the fic making out lolll anyways we love flustered gojo he's so precious <3 tagging @rinniessance and @rizsu to see streamer!gojo's latest shenanigans :3

author's note: this one was requested and i rly liked the idea sooo yea. i wrote it. shocking right?! anyways thank u guys for all the streamer!gojo requests, saves me the effort of having to think of plots ꨄ︎

"baby, what time is it?" satoru mumbles against your lips, holding you in place on his lap. the two of you are seated on his plush chair in front of his computer, and you've been kissing like teenagers for the last... hour? or two?

satoru tilts his head in to kiss you again, soft lips gently pressing against yours for the thousandth time. his hands roam over your body, and one rests on your waist while the other reaches around you into your back pocket. his eyes flutter open when he feels your phone, and he turns his head briefly to sneak a glance at the time.

"shit, i gotta start the stream in two minutes," satoru mutters. he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and leans back, azure eyes drinking in your heated cheeks and fluttering eyes. a smug smile slowly grows on his lips as you look away. 

"aw, d'you want more?" he cooes, reaching out and touching the side of your face. satoru gently pushes your face back in his direction, moving his slender fingers to your chin and holding it in place. you're all sweet and flustered in the aftermath of your makeout session, and every time he sees you like this, another part of his heart surrenders itself to you.

you nod bashfully, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you feel satoru's grip on your chin tighten. he pulls you in for another long, minty kiss, and you feel him smile against your lips. his hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck as he hugs you against his chest, which rises and falls in sync with yours.

"you're so cute," he murmurs in between kisses, eyes flickering back and forth from you to the time. "c'mon, honey, we have a minu—"

you cut him off with another kiss, which catches him off guard—usually he's the one leaning in. but no, you had to take him by surprise and throw him off his game. the little hm? that slips out of his lips when you kiss him causes satoru to go redder than you've ever seen him. 

seeing satoru embarrassed is rare—he's so cocky and confident that embarrassment is basically unheard of, but in this moment, you've got him. he laughs nervously when you pull away, wide eyes looking everywhere but at you and your cheeky smile.

you reach up and grab his chin, tugging it in your direction the same way he did earlier. "you know exactly what you're doing," satoru mumbles, pulling you closer and burying his face into your neck. 

"i have no idea what you're talking about," you reply smugly, kissing the side of his face. "don't you have a stream to be starting soon?"

satoru looks up instantly and groans when he sees the time—it's a minute past his start time, and that could cost him a couple hundred viewers. you laugh as you hop off his lap and into his bed, curling up under his sheets as you watch him scramble to start the live. 

"love you, 'toru," you call, wrapping your arms around one of his pillows. 

after a second, he turns around, a loading sign on his screen. "love you too, baby," satoru replies, face still noticably red. you blow him a kiss and watch as he pretends to faint in an attempt to hide his childish grin.

a soft ding then signals him that he's about to be live, so satoru spins his chair around to face his computer. he forces his usual collected smile onto his face and starts, "hey, everyone. sorry for the delay, just got... held up with something."

inumaki: u look like a tomato LMAO

yuuji-itadori: yea ur really red, are u ok?

satoru looks away, mumbling something about how it's just the lighting that's making his face look red. naturally, everyone disagrees and starts speculating as to why he seems off his game today, and eventually, someone gets it.

megumi-fushiguro: he always looks like that everytime he sees his gf wdym

inumaki: WAIT THATS IT

inumaki: he was def doin unspeakable things with his gf just two seconds ago. trust

you can't suppress the small laugh that escapes your lips when satoru stumbles over his words at the comments, face redder than ever. "a-anyways, today i'm gonna— hold on," he cuts himself off by looking down at his phone, where a text notification from you had popped up.

love of my life: ur so cute :(

love of my life: but get ur shit together 

love of my life: im the only one who gets to see u like that (¬_¬)

[pandapetals]

ong i love your writing! can i please get a x1 logan fic where the reader is a ballerina? she’s been alive for a long time just like logan with the same regeneration ability. they meet when she is invited to the x mansion for something. but he walks in on her dancing swan lake? if not i totally understand. a girl can dream 💗✨

Hi! Thank you so much and sooo sorry for how long it took. I’ve been busy finishing school and sleep-deprived. Hopefully, i did it justice. Idk what this is lol but i ran with it. It turned into a mini fic....anyway, I always wanted to be a ballerina when I was a kid so this lowkey fulfilled my dreams.

logan howlett x fem!mutant reader - angst, minor fluff, reader has established relationships with x-men especially hank, slight reader description, no y/n used, reader has met logan before but he doesn’t remember, timeline sort of follows X1 & X2, ballet references

You stood in the middle of the mansion’s wide, polished hallway, the faint smell of waxed floors and old books swirling around you. The hum of distant voices, laughter, and the occasional crash of something breaking echoed deeper within the sprawling mansion. You smoothed your palms over your thighs, fingers brushing against the soft cotton of your dance tights beneath your coat. This place hadn’t changed—well, not in the ways that mattered.

Storm walked beside you, her silver hair catching the sunlight spilling through the grand windows, while Scott trailed just behind, his arms crossed in his usual no-nonsense stance. You saw your reflection in one of the hallway mirrors—unchanged. Despite the weight of decades, your skin was still smooth, and your body lithe. This place carried ghosts for you, but not the kind that faded with time.

"Still feels the same," you murmured under your breath, your voice almost swallowed by the mansion's high ceilings.

Storm turned, a small smile pulling at her lips. "The kids grow up, and new ones come in, but the mansion stays the same."

"Right down to the same smell of burnt toast from the kitchen every morning," Scott added, his tone dry. He gave you a sidelong glance, the faintest hint of warmth breaking through his stoicism. "You'll fit right in again. Hank’s been talking about your return for weeks. I think he's been counting the days."

Storm chuckled softly, her voice lilting like the whisper of wind through trees. “You’d think he was the one with a photographic memory.”

As if summoned by your name, a deep, rumbling voice boomed from behind. “Is that—no, it can’t be.”

You turned just in time to see Hank bounding into view, his blue fur almost shimmering in the light. His tailored blazer looked comically out of place over his hulking, beastly form, but the warm smile on his face was the same as you remembered.

"Hank!" you exclaimed, your smile splitting wide as you stepped forward. His massive arms enveloped you in a bear hug, lifting you clean off your feet.

"My dear, you haven’t aged a day!" he declared, setting you back down but keeping his enormous hands on your shoulders as if to confirm you were real.

“Well, you know me. Perks of the trade,” you said lightly, but his words brought a pang you quickly shoved aside. You tilted your head up at him. “You, on the other hand, look fluffier than ever.”

Hank laughed, the sound rolling through the hallway like thunder. “You flatter me.” He released you with a fond pat on the back. "Though I must admit, it’s wonderful to see you again. It hasn’t been the same without you."

Scott cleared his throat, his voice tinged with impatience. “As much as I enjoy a good reunion, we still have the tour to finish.”

You smirked. “Still as serious as ever, huh, Summers? Don’t worry, I won’t let Hank hold us up too long.”

As the group moved down the hallway, your footsteps were light against the polished floor. A gruff voice cut through the air, stopping you in your tracks.

“Who’s the new recruit?”

You froze. You knew that voice—low, gravelly like it had been dragged across gravel and left to smolder. Turning slowly, you locked eyes with Logan. He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand resting on the frame, the other holding a cigar he hadn’t bothered to light. His eyes raked over you, sizing you up with an air of detached curiosity.

“Logan,” you said, the name tasting familiar on your tongue, like a song you hadn’t sung in years.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do I know you?”

For a second, you almost told him. The memories of a fight decades ago—the clash of claws and fists, the way his grin had split his face after every victory—flashed through your mind. But his blank stare reminded you he wouldn’t remember. Not this version of him. Not after what they’d done to him.

“Not really,” you replied with a shrug, masking the ache behind a practiced nonchalance. “But I’ve heard of you. Big fan of the ‘snikt-snikt’ routine.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners. “Cute.” He pushed off the doorframe, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he walked closer. “What’s your story?”

You mirrored his casual stance, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “I’m here to teach ballet. Figured the kids could use some culture.”

“Ballet?” Logan snorted, his grin widening. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be real useful in a fight.”

You smirked back. “You’d be surprised. I could take you down in three moves.”

“Three, huh?” He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re confident. I like that.”

“Is that your way of saying you’d like a demonstration?”

Before he could reply, Storm cut in, her voice carrying an edge of authority. “Logan, play nice. She’s here to help, not trade punches with you.”

Logan raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. “Alright, alright. But don’t blame me if she ends up knocking one of the kids on their asses in the Danger Room.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. Logan might not remember you, but some things about him hadn’t changed.

As he walked away, cigar tucked back between his teeth, you turned to Storm, who was watching you with a knowing look.

“Well,” you said, “this is going to be fun.”

Storm chuckled. “Oh, I think you’ll fit right in.”

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ���୨ৎ

The room smelled faintly of lavender, likely from whatever freshener Storm had insisted on using, and the golden light of late afternoon streamed through the large windows. You sat cross-legged on the neatly made bed, hands resting on your knees, staring absently at the few belongings you’d unpacked. A duffel bag in the corner. A framed photo of you and Hank from years ago—his arm slung over your shoulder, your face mid-laugh. It felt surreal, almost too heavy to keep looking at.

You shrugged as if trying to loosen the weight pressing on your chest. It was nice to be back, even if it stirred old memories you’d locked away. Memories of laughter, battle, and the kind of losses that didn’t fade with time. But this was temporary. Just another stop along your endless road, you reminded yourself. You never stayed anywhere long enough to leave roots. You couldn’t.

A knock at the doorframe broke your reverie.

“Mind if I come in?” Hank’s familiar baritone rang out, warm and tinged with his usual politeness. He stood there, one hand resting on the frame, his blue fur catching the golden light.

“Course,” you said, a smile pulling at your lips as you waved him in.

He stepped into the room, his hulking frame seeming almost too big for the cozy space. But the way he moved—careful and precise—kept it from feeling intrusive. He glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in the bare walls and the sparse unpacking. “Travel light as always, I see.”

“Old habits die hard,” you said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m not planning on staying long.”

Hank’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t press the matter. Instead, he crossed the room and plopped into the chair at the small desk, the furniture groaning under his weight.

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” you said, your smile softening. “It’s been...”

“Ten years,” he finished for you, his voice quiet but firm.

Your smile faltered, and you looked away, the guilt settling in your stomach like a stone. “I’m sorry,��� you said finally in a whisper.

Hank waved you off, the gesture almost as familiar as the amused twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I know you had your reasons for running off. It just would’ve been nice to know you weren’t, you know, dead in a ditch somewhere.”

That earned a small laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah, I guess I could’ve done better on the whole ‘staying in touch’ thing, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he teased, leaning forward and resting his chin on his massive hand. “I missed you, you know. Things have been... quieter without you around.”

You grinned. “Me? I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

“Oh no,” he said, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “I distinctly recall a certain someone sneaking into my lab at three in the morning to swipe beakers for—what was it—homemade glow-in-the-dark paint?”

You laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. “In my defense, it worked! That mural in the attic was a masterpiece.”

“And I had to spend an entire week re-organizing my lab. You’re lucky I’m so forgiving,” he said, though the grin on his face made it clear he didn’t regret a second of it.

The laughter between you settled into a comfortable quiet, the kind of silence only shared between old friends.

Hank cleared his throat, his tone turning curious. “So, how are you feeling about being back? I know it can’t be easy.”

You leaned back on your hands, glancing up at the ceiling. “It’s... weird. Good, but weird. This place has so many memories, you know? Feels like I’m walking through a time capsule. Everyone’s so familiar but different at the same time. Even Logan.”

Hank’s eyebrows shot up. “Logan?”

You nodded, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Ran into him in the hallway earlier. He asked who I was.”

“And did you tell him?”

Your smile faded slightly, replaced by something more wistful. “Just said I was here to teach ballet and that I’d heard of him.”

Hank tilted his head, studying you. “You’ve met him before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice soft. You traced the edge of the duvet with your finger, eyes distant. “A long time ago. Before he lost his memory.”

Hank frowned. “And he doesn’t remember?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not a thing.”

“That must’ve been... hard,” Hank said, his voice gentle, always the considerate one.

You shrugged, forcing a small, tight smile. “It’s not like I expected him to. Besides, it’s probably better this way. Less complicated.”

“Hmm,” Hank murmured, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed. “Well, complicated or not, he seems intrigued by you. I caught him muttering something about ‘ballet instructors with an attitude’ after he saw you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Sounds about right. I think I annoyed him within thirty seconds of meeting him. New record?”

Hank chuckled. “Perhaps. Though, if I know Logan, that probably just means he respects you already.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure. Respect. That’s what I’m calling it.”

Hank grinned at your sarcasm, but his expression softened as he leaned forward again. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Even if it’s just for a little while. The place feels more like home with you in it.”

The words struck a chord deep in your chest, and you looked down, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve to avoid his gaze. “Thanks, Hank. That means a lot.”

“You mean a lot,” he said simply, his sincerity cutting through any attempt to downplay his words.

The two of you fell into an easy silence again, but this time it was heavier with unspoken things. Things you didn’t have to say, because after all these years, Hank just knew.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“Great work today,” you said gently, crouching to pat one of the kids on the head. The little girl beamed up at you, her hair still pinned into a slightly crooked bun from class.

“Thanks!” she chirped before bounding off toward the theatre entrance, where a gaggle of other students waited.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow, bright and early!” you called after them, your voice carrying across the empty rows of seats. A few of them waved over their shoulders, laughter spilling into the hall as they disappeared through the double doors.

The stage was quiet now, the faint scent of resin and sweat lingering in the air. You stood there staring out at the rows of chairs that stretched into a shadow. The polished floor beneath your feet caught the faint gleam of overhead lights, reflecting a ghostly version of yourself back at you.

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed, the stillness pressing around you like a heavy blanket. This place stirred something deep in you, something you hadn’t felt in years. You glanced down at your feet, your sneakers looking almost out of place against the elegant backdrop of the stage. Your eyes drifted, drawn to a battered old prop chest tucked just off to the side, partially hidden by the heavy velvet curtain.

Curiosity pulled you forward, and you crouched to flip open the lid. A cloud of dust puffed out, tickling your nose as you rummaged through its contents. Costumes, ribbons, bits of tulle—faded relics from long-forgotten performances. And then, nestled at the very bottom, you found them.

A pair of pointe shoes.

Your breath hitched as you lifted them from the chest, the ribbons cascading down like silk waterfalls. They weren’t yours—at least, not exactly—but they might as well have been. The scuffed toes, the frayed edges of the satin, the way the soles were worn down just so—it was all so familiar it made your chest ache.

Without really thinking, you sat down on the edge of the stage, untying your sneakers and slipping off your socks. The cool satin of the pointe shoes slid over your feet like a second skin, and your fingers moved on autopilot as you laced the ribbons up your ankles. The motions were muscle memory, older than most of the students you’d taught today.

You rose slowly, the faint stretch and pull of the shoes grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you’d needed. A glance backstage revealed a small sound system someone had left behind, a phone still plugged into it. You scrolled until you found it—Swan Lake.

The haunting strings began to play, swelling and softening as if they were breathing. You stepped back onto the stage, your toes brushing the center mark, and let the music guide you.

At first, you moved tentatively, testing the feel of the shoes and the way your body responded. But soon, the hesitance melted away, and the steps came to you as naturally as breathing. A pirouette turned into an arabesque, which melted into a series of gliding movements that carried you across the stage.

The world outside the theatre faded, and all that existed was the music, the stage, and the rhythm of your own heartbeat. Each movement felt like slipping into an old memory, one you didn’t even realize you’d missed.

You were mid-leap when you caught the faintest creak of floorboards behind you.

The sound shattered your focus, and you landed with a jarring thud, spinning around instinctively.

Logan stood at the edge of the stage, one hand shoved into his jacket pocket. He leaned against the proscenium arch, watching you with an unreadable expression, though something about it wasn’t entirely unkind.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The soft strains of Swan Lake still played behind you, the violins aching as the tension in the air stretched.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked finally, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Long enough,” he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Your eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t think to announce yourself?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Didn’t want to interrupt. You looked... focused.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise to your face as you turned away and bent to tug the ribbons loose from your ankles. “Well, congratulations. You interrupted anyway.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he said, stepping closer, his boots thudding softly against the stage floor. “You’re... pretty good at that, by the way.”

You paused mid-motion, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Pretty good? Gee, thanks for the glowing review.”

He smirked, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “Alright, fine. You’re really good. Happy?”

You snorted, slipping the pointe shoes off and flexing your toes. “It’s been a while.”

“Couldn’t tell,” he said simply. His gaze lingered on you even as you busied yourself with tucking the ribbons back into the shoes. “You used to do that, huh? Dance, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, turning the shoes over in your hands. “A lifetime ago.”

The silence hung between while the faint hum of the violins still played in the background.

“You should do it more,” he said finally, his tone softer than you expected.

You looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. The rough edges of Logan’s demeanor didn’t usually leave much room for softness, and it caught you off guard. But before you could respond, he was already turning away, heading toward the wings, his boots thudding softly against the stage floor.

You just sat there, the pointe shoes resting lightly in your lap. You stared after him, unsure whether to laugh, roll your eyes, or call him back just to yell at him for sneaking in. But something about the way he moved—slow, deliberate, almost hesitant—stopped you.

“Logan,” you called out, your voice carrying across the empty stage.

He paused, his broad shoulders tensing, though he didn’t turn right away. When he did, his expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure what to expect from you.

“How long have you been here?” you asked, gesturing vaguely to the space around you. “At the school, I mean.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and for a second, he looked like he was deciding whether or not to answer. “A good while,” he said finally, his tone gruff.

It wasn’t much of an answer—not something you could work with—but you tried anyway. “Hank tells me you’re just… passing through.” You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “But you’re still here.”

Logan let out a soft huff, the corner of his mouth pulling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but close enough. “He should mind his business,” he said, though there was no real heat in his words. He paused, stepping closer with a glint of curiosity in his sharp eyes. “You talking to Hank about me?”

You shrugged, the movement casual, but your heart was beating just a touch faster. “Me and Hank are good friends. We’ve—well, I’ve known the X-Men almost my whole life.” You hesitated, glancing down at the pointe shoes in your lap, your fingers idly tracing the frayed edges of the satin. “Been around a long time.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of it, heavy and searching. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You give off that vibe.”

You frowned, looking back up at him. “What vibe?”

“Like you’ve seen some things,” he said, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. His tone was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that felt older than even his rough exterior let on. “Been through it. Same as me.”

You held his gaze for a moment, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain. Not easily, anyway. Instead, you offered him a small, wry smile. “Yeah, well. Time has a way of kicking the crap out of you if you let it.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound more genuine than you expected. “Ain’t that the truth.” He shifted slightly, his gaze dropping to the pointe shoes still cradled in your hands.

“You’re good at that,” he said finally, nodding toward them. “Dancing, I mean. I could tell. Not just talent—it’s in your bones.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What, you an expert on ballet now?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nah. But I know what it looks like when someone’s got somethin’ that keeps ‘em going. Something they can’t walk away from, even if they try.”

The words hit deeper than you wanted to admit as you stared at him, unsure how to respond. Finally, you said, “Yeah, well. It’s not exactly something you forget. Even when you want to.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. Something was flickering behind his gaze, restless and uncertain like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t even know he had.

“You seem… familiar,” he said suddenly, the words rough, like they’d been dragged out of him against his will.

Your breath caught, and you stiffened, your grip tightening on the pointe shoes. “Familiar?”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. I dunno. I get these dreams sometimes. Flashes of… people, places. Can’t make sense of ‘em half the time, but you…” He trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair. “You feel like one of ‘em. Like I’ve seen you before.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even as his words pulled at something buried deep in your chest. “Well,” you said lightly, “maybe I just have one of those faces.”

Logan snorted, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah. Maybe.” But the way his eyes lingered on you made it clear he wasn’t convinced.

You stood abruptly, the pointe shoes dangling from your fingers as you moved to set them down on the edge of the stage. “I should probably get going,” you said, your voice a touch too bright. “Long day tomorrow. Lots of kids to wrangle.”

Logan straightened, watching you carefully. “Yeah. Sure.” He hesitated, then added, “Hey. If you ever feel like you need to talk… about all that time kickin’ the crap outta you…” His smirk returned, softer this time. “I’m around.”

You looked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Then you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Logan.”

He nodded back, stepping away toward the wings. “Anytime.”

As he disappeared into the shadows, you found yourself standing there, staring at the space he’d left behind, wondering if he remembered more than he realized.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“Leaving already?” Hank asked, his deep voice soft but tinged with disappointment as he leaned against the doorframe of your room. His sharp blue eyes swept over the half-packed duffel bag on the bed.

You turned to face him, zipping up the side pocket of the bag before offering him a faint smile. “Yeah,” you said, your tone light, though the ache in your chest betrayed you. “My job’s done. These kids learned pretty quickly. They don’t need me hanging around.”

Hank stepped into the room, his large frame taking up far too much space as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You could stay…”

His words hung in the air like a challenge, and you looked down at your hands, gripping the strap of your bag. The idea tugged at you, and you couldn’t deny it. A part of you did want to stay. It had been a few months—far longer than you’d initially planned—and yet leaving felt harder than it usually did.

Hank tilted his head, studying you. “I know he would miss you,” he said gently, his voice softening. “In his own weird way.”

Your heart gave a traitorous thud, and you swallowed hard, glancing toward the window. The late afternoon sun cast long golden streaks across the walls, the light catching the faint dust motes in the air. You knew exactly who Hank meant.

“Hank,” you said, shaking your head as if to dismiss the thought. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” Hank continued, his tone a mixture of teasing and sincerity, “it’s not every day Logan actually lets someone get under his skin.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up, though it was tinged with a bittersweet edge. “Under his skin? Pretty sure he’d describe me as an itch, not a friend.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. “Perhaps. But even Logan doesn’t get that annoyed unless he likes someone.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway made both of you glance toward the door. A moment later, Logan appeared, his usual scowl in place as he leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his gravelly voice laced with sarcasm, though his eyes flicked to your bag with something far harder to read.

“Not at all,” Hank said smoothly, stepping toward the door. “In fact, I was just leaving.”

You shot Hank a glare, but he only smiled innocently before brushing past Logan and disappearing down the hallway, leaving the two of you alone.

“So,” Logan said, jerking his chin toward the bed. “Packing up, huh?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah. Time to hit the road. The kids are in a good place, and my work here is done.”

Logan snorted, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Work? Looked more like pirouettes and tutus to me.”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Don’t knock it, Logan. Ballet’s tougher than it looks. I’d like to see you last five minutes in a pair of pointe shoes.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” he said, the ghost of a grin flickering across his face. “I like my dignity right where it is.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you zipped up the duffel bag. “You wouldn’t know dignity if it hit you over the head.”

“Careful, darlin’,” Logan shot back, his voice teasing but low. “I might actually start to think I’m gonna miss you.”

The playful tone of the conversation faltered for a split second, the weight of his words landing heavier than either of you expected. You looked at him, your smirk fading as your eyes searched his face.

“Well,” you said lightly, trying to brush it off, “don’t get too sentimental on me, Logan. I’ll think I’ve broken you.”

Logan didn’t laugh. His expression grew more serious, his brows furrowing slightly as he stepped closer. “I’m not bein’ sentimental. I mean it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden earnestness in his voice. “Logan—”

“I’ll miss you,” he interrupted, his gaze dropping before meeting yours again. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Before you could respond, Logan ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a low huff. “I don’t know what it is about you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But you feel… familiar. Like I’ve known you before.”

You froze, your pulse quickening. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece something together. “I’ve had these dreams,” he said slowly. “Flashes of… I dunno, a forest. Snow. And you. You’re there. You’re always there.”

Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to stay still, to keep your expression neutral even as his words sent a ripple through you. “Logan, that doesn’t mean anything,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Dreams are just… dreams.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Maybe. But it feels real. Like I’m rememberin’ something I’m not supposed to.”

You took a shaky breath, gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline. “Logan…”

He stepped back, giving you space but keeping his sharp eyes locked on yours. “I don’t know what it means, but…” He exhaled, the sound rough and frustrated. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is… if I ever figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

You managed a faint smile, though your chest felt tight. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Logan nodded once, his gaze lingering on you before he stepped back toward the door. “Take care of yourself, darlin’,” he said, his voice gruff again, though the softness in his eyes remained.

“You too, Logan,” you replied, watching as he disappeared into the hallway.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“He isn’t here,” Hank’s familiar voice rumbled as you stepped through the heavy oak doors of Xavier’s mansion.

You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your chest before you schooled your expression into something neutral. “Who said I came back for him?” you quipped, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe I missed you, you big fluff.”

Hank appeared at the top of the grand staircase, his blue fur catching the soft light streaming through the tall windows. He grinned as he descended, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet foyer. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he said, his tone warm and teasing. As he reached the bottom step, he opened his arms, and you moved forward, letting yourself sink into the familiar embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his large hands resting gently on your shoulders. “My dear, I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

You gave him a faint smile, setting your duffel bag down by your feet. “Well, you were right. This place has a way of sticking with you.”

Your gaze wandered, taking in the grand entryway—the polished wood floors, the scent of old books, and faint traces of Storm’s jasmine perfume lingering in the air. It felt the same as it always had, and yet different, as if the mansion itself had shifted in your absence. It had been three months since you’d left, determined to put some distance between yourself and the memories this place stirred up. But the farther you went, the more you felt the pull to come back.

Something about being here this time had gotten under your skin, burrowed into the part of you that you usually kept locked away.

Hank seemed to sense your hesitation. His perceptive blue eyes studied you carefully, the teasing edge to his voice softening. “What brought you back this time? Missing the kids already? Or…” He trailed off meaningfully, giving you a knowing look.

You rolled your eyes, stepping away to avoid his gaze. “Don’t start with me, Hank.”

“Start with what?” he asked innocently, though the twitch of his lips betrayed him.

You bent to pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you moved toward the staircase. “I just felt like it was time to come back, okay? No ulterior motives.”

Hank followed you, his footsteps were heavy but deliberate. “Hmm,” he murmured, and you could feel his gaze boring into the back of your head. “I see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gestured for you to follow him toward the sitting room. You hesitated, but the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t going to let this drop, so you sighed and followed him in.

As you stepped into the room, the crackling of a low fire greeted you, the warmth immediately chasing away the chill that had settled in your bones during your journey back. Hank moved to pour himself a cup of tea from the silver pot on the table and offered you one with a tilt of his head. You shook your head, folding your arms across your chest instead.

When Hank finally spoke, his voice was careful but direct. “Logan left shortly after you did.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a punch to the stomach. You forced yourself to stay still, to keep your expression calm. “Oh?”

Hank’s sharp eyes flicked to you over the rim of his cup. “He went to Alkali Lake.”

Your breath caught for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to shrug casually. “Is that so? I guess he's still looking for answers.”

Hank hummed, setting the teacup down with a quiet clink. “Indeed. He seemed… restless. More so than usual. Charles sent him there.”

You shifted your weight, pretending to be absorbed in the crackling fire, but you could feel Hank watching you, his gaze pressing against the cracks in your carefully constructed mask. “Well, you know Logan. He’s not exactly one for sitting still,” you said lightly.

Hank didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was softer, more concerned. “You knew he’d leave, didn’t you?”

You frowned, turning your gaze to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hank leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded you with that gentle yet unyielding intensity that only he could pull off. “You care about him,” he said simply. “And don’t try to deny it. I’ve known you too long.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. Instead, you looked away, your fingers tightening into fists at your sides. “It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “He doesn’t even remember me.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it,” Hank said gently.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. You cleared your throat, straightening your shoulders. “I think I’ll talk to Charles,” you said abruptly, moving toward the door.

“Of course,” Hank said, his voice soft and understanding. “But if you need to talk…”

You glanced back at him, offering a small, strained smile. “Thanks, Hank.”

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

You found Charles in his study, the quiet hum of his voice reaching you before you even entered the room. He was finishing up a conversation with Storm, who nodded at you in greeting as she passed by on her way out.

“Ah,” Charles said, his warm smile appearing as he gestured for you to come in. “It’s good to see you back.”

You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind you. “Why did you send him there?”

Charles raised an eyebrow, though his expression remained calm. “Logan?”

“Yes,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Hank said you sent him to Alkali Lake. Why?”

Charles sighed, folding his hands in his lap as his gaze turned contemplative. “Because he was searching for answers. And I thought he deserved a chance to find them.”

“At that place?” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Charles’s gaze softened, his eyes piercing yet kind. “You know as well as I do that Logan’s past is complicated. He came to me, searching for guidance. I simply pointed him toward where I believed he might find what he was looking for.”

You turned away, pacing to the window as you tried to steady your thoughts. Memories of Alkali Lake clawed at the edges of your mind, and the idea of Logan going back there made your chest tighten.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” you muttered.

Charles was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. “He’s stronger than you think. And, perhaps, finding the truth is the only way for him to heal.”

You clenched your jaw, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for,” you said quietly. “He doesn’t remember.”

Charles tilted his head, studying you carefully. “And yet, it seems to me that you do.”

You turned to face him, your arms folded tightly across your chest like a shield, but you couldn’t keep the vulnerability from your eyes as they met his. He was right, of course—he was always right. You did remember. You remembered everything.

And that was the problem.

“Sometimes,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray you, “things happen for a reason. Sometimes it’s better not to remember.”

Charles’s expression softened, his piercing gaze never wavering. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his hands folding neatly in his lap as he studied you. “Perhaps you feel that way,” he said gently, “but Logan doesn’t. He wants to remember—he longs to, even if he doesn’t realize how painful the truth could be.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening against your arms. The lump rising in your throat made it difficult to speak. “You shouldn’t have sent him there,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “You could’ve just told him. You could’ve looked into his mind and shown him.”

Charles sighed, his expression tinged with a sadness that only came from decades of making impossible decisions. “I could have,” he admitted, his voice as calm and steady as ever. “But sometimes it’s best to let one discover the truth on their own. To take the journey themselves, rather than having it handed to them.”

You shook your head, pacing a few steps toward the window before stopping, your hands bracing against the ledge as you stared out at the sprawling gardens. The sky was painted with the fiery hues of sunset, the warm colors stark against the shadows creeping across the grounds.

“You don’t know what he’s walking into,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less strained. “Alkali Lake isn’t just some mystery to solve—it’s a wound that doesn’t close. Whatever he finds there… it’ll destroy him.”

Charles’s chair creaked faintly as he shifted, his voice still calm but tinged with something deeper, something more insistent. “Logan is stronger than you think. He has endured more than most men could even imagine. And while you may see Alkali Lake as a wound, for him, it may be the key to healing.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Healing? Is that what you call it? Ripping open the past just to bleed all over again?” You turned to face him, your voice rising slightly. “You think that’s going to help him?”

Charles remained unshaken, his steady gaze meeting yours. “I think,” he said carefully, “that Logan deserves the chance to decide for himself. To understand who he was, and who he could become.”

You looked away, your jaw clenching as the weight of his words settled over you. “He doesn’t need to remember everything,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Charles. “Some things… some things are better left buried.”

Charles regarded you silently for a long moment, the silence between you heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, he spoke, his tone gentle but resolute. “You could help him.”

The words made your heart jolt, and your eyes snapped back to his, wide with surprise. “What?”

“You could help him,” Charles repeated, his gaze unyielding. “You know him. You understand his pain in ways others cannot. Perhaps you are exactly what he needs.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as you stepped back toward the door. “No,” you said firmly, though your voice cracked slightly. “That’s not my place. He doesn’t even remember me.”

“Perhaps not,” Charles said, tilting his head slightly. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the connection. And it doesn’t mean you don’t care.”

You froze in the doorway, your hand gripping the frame as you glanced back at him. “This isn’t about me caring,” you said quietly, though even you could hear the lie in your voice. “This is about you sending him to a place that’s going to tear him apart, and expecting someone else to pick up the pieces.”

Charles’s gaze softened, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m not expecting anything, my dear. I’m simply reminding you that you have a choice. Just as he does.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as the weight of his words pressed against the walls you’d so carefully built around yourself. Without another word, you turned and walked out, the faint echo of your footsteps fading down the hall.

Later that night, you found yourself sitting by the window in your room, the pointe shoes you’d brought with you resting in your lap. The moonlight spilled across the polished floor, painting the room in silvery shadows.

You hadn’t danced since the day Logan had interrupted you in the theatre, but now, your legs ached with the restless energy that only movement could soothe. Setting the shoes aside, you rose to your feet and began to move, the quiet hum of your memories guiding your steps.

But no matter how hard you tried to lose yourself in the rhythm, his words echoed in your mind.

“I’ve had these dreams. Flashes of… I don’t know, a forest. Snow. And you. You’re there. You’re always there.”

You faltered mid-spin, your movements slowing until you stood completely still, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. The memories he didn’t fully understand were ones you couldn’t forget. The snow, the forest, the way his eyes—wilder, more broken than—had locked onto yours as if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

You sat back down on the edge of the bed, resting your head in your hands. You had told yourself that coming back to the mansion was about the kids, about the familiar comforts of a place you’d once called home. But deep down, you knew it was about him.

And now he was gone.

You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or heartbroken, but one thing was certain—if Logan ever truly remembered everything, you weren’t sure either of you would survive it.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

You descended the staircase beside Hank, nodding absentmindedly as he launched into an animated explanation of his latest research—something about neural pathways and genetic mutations. It was fascinating, you were sure, but your thoughts had drifted. A week had passed since you returned to the mansion, and yet it still felt strange to slip so easily back into the rhythm of this place, like stepping into an old pair of shoes you’d forgotten you owned.

“Logan! You’re back!”

Rogue’s excited voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-step, your hand tightening on the polished wood of the banister. Your eyes darted to the entrance below, where Logan stood just inside the door, a worn duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looked as gruff as ever, his jacket unzipped and his hair slightly mussed, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as Rogue darted across the hall to embrace him.

You lingered on the stairs, watching the exchange with a small smile. Rogue stepped back, saying something too low for you to hear, and Logan responded with a grunt that made her laugh. The sight of it tugged at something in your chest—something you weren’t ready to name.

“Wonder why he’s back,” Hank said beside you, his voice low and tinged with curiosity.

You didn’t miss the knowing look he gave you, and you sighed, swatting his arm lightly. “Don’t start,” you said, your voice teasing but edged with a hint of nervousness.

Still, your heart raced, betraying the calm exterior you were trying so hard to maintain. The thought crossed your mind—fleeting and impossible—that maybe Logan had come back because you were here. But no. That wasn’t how things worked. You had left before him, made it clear you didn’t intend to stay, and Logan… well, Logan wasn’t the sentimental type.

As you descended the last few steps, Hank still at your side, Logan’s gaze lifted. His smirk faded as his sharp eyes found yours, and for a second, something flickered across his face. Surprise? Relief? It was gone before you could name it, replaced by his usual guarded expression.

“You… made it back,” you said, your voice softer than you intended as you offered him a faint smile.

Logan’s brow twitched, and he set his duffel bag down by his feet. “Looks like we both did,” he said gruffly, his voice carrying that familiar gravelly tone that always sounded like he’d just woken up.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you admitted, stepping off the last stair. “But, you know… this place has a way of dragging you back.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, his lips twitching as though he might smile. “Does that.”

There was a beat of silence, not quite awkward but heavy enough to feel like the air between you had changed somehow. Hank, ever the socially astute one, cleared his throat and patted you lightly on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave you two to… catch up. I have some experiments to check on.”

You shot him a warning look, but he just grinned and disappeared down the hall dragging Rogue along with him. Leaving you alone with Logan.

“So,” you said after a moment, folding your arms casually. “Alkali Lake. Find what you were looking for?”

Logan let out a low huff, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Nah. Nothin’ there but snow and bad memories.”

You nodded, though your chest tightened at his words. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t let this get to you, wouldn’t let your emotions bubble to the surface. But it was hard. You knew what Alkali Lake meant, not just to him but to you as well.

“Well,” you said lightly, forcing a smirk. “Guess you can cross that one off the list.”

“Yeah,” he said, watching you carefully. “Guess so.”

There was a pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were working up to something. You shifted under his gaze, feeling the weight of it settle on your shoulders.

“What?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Had another dream,” he said suddenly, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it, something unspoken lingering beneath his words.

You froze, your smirk faltering. “Oh yeah?”

Logan nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “You were in it again.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced yourself to play it cool. “You sure it wasn’t Rogue this time? Or Storm? Maybe I’m just a stand-in for all the women in your life.”

He huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. It was you.” He stepped a little closer, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, studying your face as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle. “This time you were… dancin’.”

The breath hitched in your throat, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. You broke eye contact, looking down at the scuffed floorboards. “Sounds like a weird dream,” you said, your voice quiet.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone softer now. “Weird thing is, it felt… familiar.”

You looked back up at him sharply, your stomach twisting. “Familiar how?”

Logan shrugged, the movement almost too casual, but his brow furrowed as though he were trying to make sense of something. “Don’t know. I just… felt like I’d seen it before. You, up on some stage or somethin’, spinnin’ around. There was music. Somethin’ old… Swan Lake, maybe?”

Your throat tightened. The memory flashed in your mind—the theatre, the faint strains of Swan Lake, the way you’d let yourself get lost in the dance only to find Logan watching you from the shadows.

“Well,” you said finally, forcing a smirk. “Maybe you’re just jealous of my skills.”

Logan snorted, his lips twitching upward. “Yeah, sure. That’s it.”

He held your gaze for a second longer, and you thought you saw the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something uncertain, almost vulnerable. But then he stepped back, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Good to see you back,” he said gruffly, his voice dropping just enough that you almost missed it. “Place is better with you here.”

Before you could respond, he turned and started walking down the hall, leaving you standing there, your chest tight and your thoughts swirling.

Logan might not remember everything, but the pieces were there buried just beneath the surface. And whether you liked it or not, it seemed those pieces included you.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“Charles suggested I… help him,” you said, your tone sharp as you leaned against Hank’s lab table. The polished steel was cold under your hands, grounding you as you tried to organize your thoughts. “Can you believe that? The old man won’t use his powers to look inside Logan’s mind, but he expects me to do it—in some weird, roundabout sense.”

Hank hummed thoughtfully, his attention divided as he adjusted the burner beneath a bubbling beaker. “Charles has his methods,” he said evenly. “Though I suspect he thinks you’d be a better help because you… knew Logan. From before.”

Your stomach tightened, and you crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze dropping to the tiled floor. “Hank, I’ve known almost everyone. I’ve been alive longer than any of you. It doesn’t mean I have all the answers.” You hesitated, then added in a softer voice, “And you can’t expect me to just… spill my guts to him. What if it triggers something in him? The feral side?”

That made Hank pause. He looked up from his work, concern creasing his blue-furred face. “I’ve heard about that side of him,” he said cautiously, “but I’ve never seen it in person.” His voice lowered. “Have you?”

The question made your chest tighten even more, your heart thudding against your ribs. You turned away, your eyes settling on a shelf of meticulously labeled vials, pretending to study them.

“We’ve seen it, haven’t we?” Hank pressed, his tone gentler now.

Finally, you nodded, the memory bubbling to the surface unbidden. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’ve seen it.”

Hank tilted his head, his expression shifting from curiosity to quiet concern. “My dear,” he said carefully, “you’ve always made it seem as though you knew Logan in passing… like acquaintances from a battlefield. But…” His voice trailed off, and he straightened, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as realization dawned. “You’re not telling me something, are you?”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to dismiss the thought. “Hank, it doesn’t matter. It happened a long time ago. Just let it go.”

“What happened a long time ago?”

You gritted your teeth, frustration flaring in your chest. “It’s complicated,” you said, your voice low.

“I’ve got time,” Hank replied simply, leaning against the counter and folding his massive arms across his chest.

You threw him a look, but the patience in his gaze—the quiet, unyielding kind that Hank was so good at—made you falter. You pushed off the table and started to pace, running a hand through your hair as you tried to organize your thoughts.

“I met Logan decades ago,” you began, your voice tight. “During a war. A different one from the ones the X-Men are used to. He wasn’t like he is now. He was wilder, more dangerous. Barely in control of himself. A weapon, not a man.”

Hank’s brows furrowed. “Weapon X?”

You shook your head. “No. This was before that. This was… something else. Something darker.”

You stopped pacing, your arms falling to your sides as the memory gripped you. “I was passing through this remote town in the Canadian Rockies. Just trying to stay out of the way, you know? That’s what I did back then. I didn’t get involved. Didn’t put down roots. And then…” You swallowed hard, your voice dropping. “Then I heard the screams.”

Hank’s ears twitched, his expression unreadable as he watched you.

“There were bodies,” you continued, your voice distant now. “Shredded. Blood everywhere. And in the middle of it was him. Logan. He wasn’t himself—not the man you know now. He was… feral. An animal. He couldn’t even speak. Just growled and snarled like a beast.”

Hank adjusted his glasses, his expression turning grim. “And you fought him?”

You let out a dry laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I tried. I had to. He was killing anything that moved. I thought I could stop him, but… I underestimated him. He tore through me like paper.”

Hank’s eyes widened. “But your healing—”

“Exactly,” you cut in, nodding. “He saw me heal. Saw me get back up when I should’ve stayed down. I think it… confused him. Maybe even snapped him out of it a little. He stopped attacking me, but he didn’t calm down completely. He just… stared at me. Like he didn’t know whether to rip me apart or run.”

“And what did you do?”

You hesitated, your gaze drifting to the window. The late afternoon light spilled into the lab, casting long shadows across the floor. “I didn’t run,” you said softly. “I stayed. I talked to him. Calmed him down somehow. It was like he recognized something in me, though I didn’t know what it was at the time. I stayed with him for weeks after that. Helped him regain some sense of himself. Taught him how to fight his instincts. We… we bonded.”

The last words came out quieter than you intended, and you felt Hank’s gaze sharpen.

“You didn’t just know him,” Hank said slowly, as though the pieces were finally coming together. “You cared about him.”

You looked away, your jaw tightening. “I left when he got better. Disappeared. I thought it was for the best. And now he doesn’t even remember me. So, yeah, Charles wants me to help him, but I don’t know if I can. And even if I could… I don’t know if I should.”

The room was quiet for a long moment, the bubbling of the beaker the only sound. Finally, Hank sighed, his voice softer now. “Perhaps you underestimate how much of you he might still remember, even if it’s not clear to him yet.”

You shook your head, the weight of your thoughts pressing down like an old, familiar burden. “He doesn’t remember. At least, not the whole picture. And honestly? It’s better that way.” Your voice softened, but a bitter edge crept into it. “He shouldn’t have to remember all the pain he caused. All the blood.”

Hank froze for a moment, his hands stilling over the set of vials he was arranging. The soft hum of the equipment filled the silence as he carefully chose his words. “I understand—”

“No, you don’t.” You cut him off, the sharpness in your tone surprising even yourself. You turned toward him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Hank, if you had lived as long as we have… seen the things we’ve seen, done the things we’ve done… You’d want to forget too. You’d want it wiped clean, all of it. Trust me.”

Hank straightened, his broad shoulders rising slightly as he considered your words. “You’re speaking for Logan,” he said slowly, his voice calm but firm. “You’re deciding for him.”

Your eyes flicked away, focusing on the far corner of the lab. It was easier than meeting his gaze.

“It’s not like Logan was given a choice back then,” Hank continued, his tone softening but losing none of its weight. “And now he has one. A chance to choose for himself who he wants to be—what he wants to know. You’re taking that away from him by deciding for him.”

The words hit harder than you wanted to admit, threading a knot of tension through your chest. You opened your mouth to argue, to say something to push back against Hank’s steady reasoning, but no words came.

Instead, you closed your eyes, exhaling slowly through your nose. “I’m not taking anything away from him,” you said finally, your voice tight. “I’m just trying to protect him.”

“Protect him?” Hank asked, his eyebrows rising slightly. “From what? From himself?”

“From the truth!” you snapped, your voice rising before you could stop it. The words hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered, and you took a step back, shaking your head as if to banish the emotions bubbling to the surface.

Hank studied you carefully, his blue eyes searching yours. “You don’t believe he deserves the truth, do you?”

Your laugh came out bitter, almost hollow. “Deserve? What does that even mean? Deserve doesn’t matter when it comes to this. What Logan’s been through, what he’s done—he deserves peace. And that’s not something he’s going to find at the bottom of a memory.”

Hank tilted his head, his expression a mix of empathy and challenge. “You think peace is ignorance?”

“I think…” you said slowly, your voice faltering. “I think there are some things you can’t come back from. Some things you shouldn’t have to come back from.”

“And yet he keeps fighting,” Hank said, his voice quieter now. “Every day, Logan fights to be better. To be more than what he’s been through, more than what was done to him. But you… you’re standing in his way.”

His words struck like a blow, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not standing in his way,” you said finally, but the words felt hollow.

“Are you sure about that?” Hank asked, his tone gentle but unwavering.

You turned away, gripping the edge of the lab table so tightly your knuckles turned white. “He doesn’t need to remember me,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or what happened back then. He doesn’t need to carry that weight.”

Hank hesitated before stepping closer, his voice soft but unrelenting. “Maybe. But are you sure this is about what he needs? Or is it about what you don’t want to face?”

The question hung in the air like a loaded gun, and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer it.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Later that night, you found yourself sitting alone on the stage, the empty theatre shrouded in silence. Your legs stretched out in front of you, the ribbons of your pointe shoes loose around your ankles. Though the music had long since stopped, the soft strings of a violin still lingered in your mind, weaving through the restless thoughts you couldn’t escape.

Dancing used to help, used to be your escape when the weight of everything threatened to crush you. It felt like it only made things worse. The memories, the what-ifs, the fears you’d buried so deeply—all of it rose to the surface when you moved. Hank had been right, and you hated it.

It wasn’t just about Logan. It was about you. About the things you didn’t want to revisit, the things you’d worked so hard to leave behind. The terrifying truth was, if Logan ever pieced it all together—if he ever remembered everything—you weren’t sure either of you could handle it.

The quiet creak of the double doors opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You froze, your hands resting on your ankles as Logan stepped into the theatre, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his face. He looked more relaxed than he had when you first saw him after returning from Alkali Lake, like some of the tension he always carried had finally eased. Maybe his trip had given him some kind of closure. Maybe it had only left him with more questions.

You didn’t know which possibility scared you more.

You dropped your gaze to your pointe shoes, fingers fumbling with the ribbons as if untying them could somehow distract you from the way Logan’s gaze lingered on you.

He snorted, the sound soft but amused as he moved farther into the room. “Didn’t feel like dancin’ tonight?” he asked, his gravelly voice carrying a faint teasing edge.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged at your lips. “What do you want, Logan?”

He shrugged, stepping farther down the aisle until he was close enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. His expression shifted, the smirk fading as his sharp eyes narrowed. “Figured I’d check in. You’ve been avoidin’ me since I got back.”

“I’ve been busy,” you said quickly, tugging your pointe shoes off and setting them beside you. The excuse sounded thin even to your ears.

“Yeah,” Logan said, his voice flat as he folded his arms over his chest. “Sure you have.”

You sighed, pulling your legs up onto the stage and crossing them in front of you as if the position could shield you from the intensity of his gaze. “What do you want, Logan?”

His gaze dropped to the floor before lifting again to meet yours. “I think we both know the answer to that,” he said quietly, stepping closer to the edge of the stage. “You’re keepin’ stuff from me.”

Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” Logan said, his voice low and firm. He stepped up onto the stage, closing the distance between you. “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

You looked away, focusing on the empty rows of seats stretching out into the shadows of the theatre. “Logan, I—”

“Cut the crap,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. “Every time I get close to somethin’, you shut me out. Every time I try to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on in my head, you’re there, lookin’ at me like you already know the answers.” He paused, his voice softening just enough to make your chest ache. “You do, don’t you?”

Your hands tightened in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to steady your breathing. “It’s not that simple,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan snorted, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Nothin’s ever simple with you, is it?”

“Logan, please,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “Let it go.”

He shook his head, stepping even closer until he was standing right in front of you. “No. Not this time.” His voice was quiet but resolute, the kind of tone that left no room for argument. “I went to Alkali Lake and found nothin’ but ghosts. I keep havin’ these dreams, these flashes, and half the time, you’re in ‘em. You tell me to let it go? How the hell am I supposed to do that when I know there’s more? When I know you’re holdin’ somethin’ back?”

You stared at him, your chest tightening under the weight of his words. “You don’t want to remember,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Not all of it. Trust me, Logan. You don’t.”

His jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “That’s not your call to make.”

“Isn’t it?” you shot back, your voice rising as the emotions you’d been suppressing finally broke free. “Do you have any idea what’s buried in your head? What remembering could do to you?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. “What’s buried in yours?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut, and all you could do was stare at him. Finally, you looked away, your gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s not about me,” you said weakly.

“Bullshit,” Logan said, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “This is about you just as much as it’s about me. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared of what I’ll remember. Of what it’ll mean for you.”

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, fighting back the sting of tears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Logan crouched in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer, almost pleading. “Then tell me. Tell me what I don’t know.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over as you whispered, “I can’t.”

“Why?” Logan’s voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability beneath his gruff exterior. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it’ll break you,” you said, your voice trembling. “And I can’t be the one to do that to you, Logan. I won’t.”

The two of you just stared at each other, the silence between you heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, Logan stood, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back.

“I’m not gonna stop,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’m not gonna stop until I figure it out. Until I figure us out.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the determination in his eyes. “Logan—”

He shook his head, cutting you off, his tone low but firm. “No more runnin’, darlin’. Not from me. Not from this.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, blinking hard to fight the tears threatening to spill. “You—you can’t just expect me to tell you everything,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Why not?” Logan said, his gaze piercing as he stepped closer. “Is it a long story? I’ve got the time—we both do.” His voice softened slightly at the end, but the determination in his tone didn’t waver.

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. “It’s not that simple.”

“All I hear are excuses,” Logan snapped, his frustration bleeding into his voice. “Excuses from Chuck about my mind bein’ too fragile. Excuses about how I’ve gotta ‘find the answers myself.’” He gestured toward you, his movements sharp. “And now excuses from you about dreams bein’ just dreams. Do you think I can’t handle it? You think I don’t deserve to know what the hell’s been bouncin’ around in my head all this time?”

“It’s not about what you deserve, Logan!” you shot back, your voice cracking as you stood suddenly, your body tense with emotion. “It’s about what you can survive. You don’t know the weight of it—the guilt, the anger, the regret. You think finding all the pieces is going to fix you, but it’s not. It’s just going to break you more.”

Logan stared at you, his jaw tight, his fists clenched at his sides. But something in his eyes—something raw and pleading—made you falter. His voice softened, the edge fading. “Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. But it’s not your call to make. It’s mine.”

The truth of his words cut through your defenses like claws, and you sank back onto the stage, your hands gripping your knees as you tried to steady your breathing. The silence between you stretched, heavy and charged.

Finally, you broke it, your voice quiet but resolute. “Fine.”

Logan’s head tilted slightly, his sharp gaze narrowing as he tried to gauge your meaning.

“I’ll tell you,” you said, swallowing hard as you looked up at him. “But I can’t promise it’s going to be pretty. And I can’t promise it’s not going to hurt.”

Logan’s posture relaxed ever so slightly, and he exhaled, his shoulders dropping as he moved toward you. He sat down beside you on the stage, the movement slow and deliberate. His elbow brushed against yours, and the quiet warmth of his presence steadied the storm inside you, if only for a moment.

“I ain’t lookin’ for pretty,” he said quietly, his tone gentle now. “And I’m not afraid of hurtin’. Just… tell me the truth. That’s all I want.”

You stared at the floor for a long moment, your hands twisting in your lap as memories you’d buried for years rose to the surface, raw and unrelenting. Finally, you took a deep breath, your voice shaking as you began. “We crossed paths again a long time ago.”

Logan frowned slightly, his brows furrowing. “Again?”

You nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “It was…after everything happened when I first found you.” You hesitated, your voice dropping. “I thought I’d never see you again. Honestly, I hoped I wouldn’t. Not because I didn’t care, but because… because you deserved a fresh start. You needed one.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his silence was expectant, urging you to continue.

“I was in New York,” you said softly, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “Dancing. There was this small theatre, nothing fancy, but it was mine. I was performing that night—Swan Lake, actually. I remember being backstage, nerves eating at me like they always did before a show. And then the curtain rose, and I…” You paused, shaking your head at the memory. “I saw you. In the audience.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “Me?”

You nodded, your smile fading. “You were sitting in the second row, staring at me like you’d seen a ghost. I almost stumbled through my first few steps because I couldn’t believe it was you. You looked… different. Cleaner. Put together. But the way you watched me—it was like you remembered something. Something buried.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor as if searching for the memory.

“When the performance ended,” you continued, “I went backstage, thinking you’d leave. That maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. But when I came out, you were still there. Waiting. I didn’t know what to say, but then you said it first.”

Logan glanced at you, his voice quiet. “What’d I say?”

You hesitated, the memory sharp in your mind. “You said, ‘It’s you. You’re the one who helped me.’”

His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to piece together fragments of a puzzle. “I remembered you?”

“Some of it,” you said softly. “Not everything, but enough. Enough to know we’d met before. Enough to know I’d helped you when you weren’t… yourself.” You exhaled shakily, your hands trembling in your lap. “We went out afterward. Got drinks at some dingy little bar down the street. You asked me why I helped you back then, and I didn’t know how to answer. So I told you the truth.”

Logan looked at you, his voice rough. “What truth?”

You met his gaze, your eyes glassy. “That I didn’t want to. That I’d seen what you were capable of, and it terrified me. But there was something about you, Logan. Something human buried under all that rage. And I thought… I thought if I could just reach you, maybe you wouldn’t be lost forever.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession settling between you like a fragile thread. Logan’s gaze didn’t leave yours, his expression unreadable but his eyes impossibly soft.

“You were right,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, your breath catching. “What?”

“You reached me,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t remember all of it, but I know one thing: you didn’t let me go. You could’ve, but you didn’t. And that…” He shook his head, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “That’s somethin’ I won’t forget, even if the details are gone.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked away, wiping at them quickly. “I don’t know if I helped you, Logan. Not really.”

“You did,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “You still do.”

The words hung in the air but they carried a weight that settled deep in your chest. Logan reached over, his rough hand covering yours briefly before pulling back. The touch was fleeting but enough to let you know he meant it.

[kirammanswifey]

《Beneath Her Wings》

Caitlyn

writer's note: attorney caitlyn it's so fucking hot. it was so cute writing this, i felt butterflies in my stomach and i still do, i want a caitlyn kiramman in my life too please i'm begging. anyways, this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's silco's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, scissoring, breastfeeding kink, lap riding, mentions of physical assault, harassment, fluff and a lot of drama but it has a happy ending.

The sound of your heels against the marble floor echoed subtly in the spacious hallway. The white walls, adorned with minimalist paintings, felt cold, almost intimidating. In front of you, the frosted glass door bore the name "Caitlyn Kiramman, Attorney." Your hand trembled slightly as you turned the knob. This wasn’t the first time you sought professional help since the divorce, but something about this place felt different. Perhaps it was her prestigious reputation, or maybe the faint hope that this time, someone might truly help you.

Inside, a receptionist with a kind face greeted you with a cordial gesture. “Ma’am, Attorney Kiramman will see you shortly. Would you like some water or coffee while you wait?”

“Water, please,” you replied, though the lump in your throat made drinking seem impossible. You sat in a leather-upholstered chair, feeling small in the wide and sophisticated space.

It wasn’t long before the door opened, and Caitlyn Kiramman made her entrance. Her slender figure, wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, exuded an imposing yet non-aggressive authority. Her dark hair, tied in an impeccable bun, contrasted with her piercing blue eyes. She walked towards you with confident strides and extended a hand.

"You must be my new client. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Caitlyn," she said with a voice that was both professional and warm. Her British accent was quite captivating.

You stood up, shaking her hand with a mix of nervousness and caution. "Thank you for seeing me… I know your schedule must be very busy."

“There’s always time for someone who needs help,” she replied with a faint smile. “Please, come into my office.”

The office reflected her personality: modern, structured, and welcoming in just the right measure. Shelves full of neatly arranged law books lined the walls, and a painting of a mountain landscape adorned the main wall. Caitlyn gestured to a chair in front of her desk and waited for you to sit before taking her seat.

“Well,” she began, pulling out an elegant leather notebook and a fountain pen. “Before we begin, I want you to know that everything you share with me is absolutely confidential. My goal is to make sure you get the justice you deserve. But for that, I need you to be completely honest with me. Are you ready?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on you. There was something in her eyes, a blend of professionalism and empathy, that made you want to trust her, even though your instincts screamed that trusting someone again was a risk.

“Yes… I’m ready,” you replied, though the truth was you weren’t sure you were.

Caitlyn nodded calmly. “Perfect. Then let’s start from the beginning. Why did you decide to get a divorce?”

The air suddenly seemed heavier. You looked at your hands, playing with your fingers in an attempt to keep your composure. The words were trapped in your throat, as if saying them would make everything real again.

"My ex-husband... he wasn’t who he seemed to be at first," you began, your voice barely a whisper. "When we got married, I thought I had found someone who loved me. But over time, he changed. It started with small things: constant criticism, unfounded jealousy. And then… it became physical."

Caitlyn’s face remained neutral, though her eyes reflected a spark of contained indignation. "Can you be more specific? This is important for the case."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather strength. "He hit me. When things didn’t go his way, he’d take out his anger on me. He told me I was nobody without him, that no one else would ever want me. And for a while… I believed him."

Your voice broke on the last word, but Caitlyn didn’t interrupt. She gave you space to continue, which was, in a way, comforting.

"After a long time, something inside me broke. I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked for a divorce, but he… he didn’t accept it. He’s still harassing me, calling me, showing up at places he knows I’ll be. It’s like I can’t escape him, even after leaving."

Caitlyn set her pen down on the desk, leaning forward slightly. Her expression was serious but not stern. "I’m so sorry you had to go through that. No one deserves to live like that, and I’m glad you found the courage to leave. Now, let’s make sure he has no power over you ever again."

Her words resonated with you, though part of you still doubted. You’d heard promises before—from friends, therapists, even other attorneys. But Caitlyn seemed different. There was a conviction in her tone that made you want to believe her, even though the fear lingered, ever-present.

“What can we do?” you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

“First, I’m going to request a restraining order to keep him from coming near you,” Caitlyn explained with a confidence that was almost reassuring. “I’ll also review the terms of your divorce to ensure you’re fully protected legally. This includes any financial or property agreements he might be using to manipulate you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a faint spark of hope. “Thank you… I really appreciate it.”

Caitlyn smiled, this time with a touch of softness. “It’s my job, but it’s also the right thing to do. No one should live in fear. And if you ever need to talk about anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’m here to help, not just as your attorney, but also as someone who cares about your well-being.”

Her words disarmed you. You weren’t used to someone caring about you without expecting something in return. Maybe, just maybe, Caitlyn Kiramman was different.

When you left her office that afternoon, you felt as if something inside you had shifted. Perhaps it wasn’t hope yet, but it was a small glimmer of possibility. Maybe this time, things could be different.

The sunlight streamed through the windows of your apartment, illuminating the unpacked boxes still occupying the corner of the living room. Days had passed since your first meeting with Caitlyn, and although she had promised to work on your case, the anxiety continued to linger like a shadow. Every time your phone vibrated, your body tensed. It was always the same: a message, a call, or an email from your ex-husband.

Today was no exception. The phone on the table started ringing. You instantly recognized the number, and a shiver ran down your spine. You hesitated for a moment but finally picked it up, as if facing him was inevitable.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice dry.

On the other end of the line, your ex-husband's voice carried the same false sweetness you knew all too well. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing. I worry about you being alone in that big apartment. You don’t have to do this alone, sweetheart. We can fix things.”

Your jaw tightened. “I’m not your ‘sweetheart.’ I don’t want to hear from you again.”

There was an awkward silence before his tone shifted, becoming colder, more menacing. “Don’t be so ungrateful. You know no one else will take care of you the way I did. You’re acting like a child, but I promise you this isn’t over.”

You hung up before he could say anything else, dropping the phone on the table as if it burned. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t give him that power, not again.

Then your phone vibrated again, this time showing Caitlyn’s name on the screen. Quickly wiping your face, you answered.

“Hello,” you said, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Hi, how are you?” Caitlyn’s voice was a balm after the poison you’d just heard. “I’m calling to let you know we’ve started the process for the restraining order. I need you to come by my office tomorrow to sign some documents. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, of course,” you replied, feeling a small wave of relief. “Thank you, Caitlyn.”

“There’s no need to thank me. It’s the least I can do,” she said. There was a brief pause before she continued, her tone more personal this time. “Are you okay? You sound... upset.”

You hesitated, but something in her tone made you feel like you could be honest. “He called. He keeps saying this isn’t over. It scares me to think he’ll never stop.”

The silence on the other end of the line was brief but filled with intention. “He will stop. Trust me, I’ll make sure he has no way of getting near you. But if you ever feel unsafe or if he contacts you again, call me immediately. No matter the time.”

“Thank you,” you repeated, this time with more sincerity.

“Get some rest tonight,” she said before hanging up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That night, you slept with your phone by your side, her contact saved in favorites, like a safety net you’d never had before.

When you arrived at Caitlyn’s office, she was already waiting for you in the reception area, looking just as impeccable as the first time. This time, she greeted you with a slightly more relaxed smile.

“Hi,” she said, extending a hand to you. “Ready to tackle this?”

“Ready,” you lied, though the truth was that the thought of facing your ex-husband made your stomach twist.

The meeting was brief but intense. Caitlyn explained every detail of the process, ensuring you understood everything you were about to sign. Her patience was admirable; no matter how many questions you asked, she always answered with calm and precision.

“With this, he won’t be able to come within 500 meters of you,” Caitlyn explained as you signed the final document. “And if he does, he’ll face immediate legal consequences.”

“Do you think that’ll stop him?” you asked, your voice unsure.

“We’ll stop him,” she replied firmly. “You’re not alone in this.”

There was a moment of silence when you realized how much those words meant to you. You weren’t used to someone else sharing your burden. Caitlyn, with her steady gaze and unwavering posture, seemed like the only person who truly understood what you needed: support, without judgment.

When the meeting ended, Caitlyn walked with you to the elevator. “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Not really. I guess I’ll head home and try to relax.”

“How about grabbing a coffee?” Her proposal caught you off guard. Caitlyn noticed your expression and smiled. “Nothing case-related, I promise. I just thought you could use a break.”

For a moment, you hesitated, but something in her smile made you nod. “Okay. I think I could use that.”

The coffee shop was small and cozy, far from the city’s bustle. Caitlyn ordered an espresso while you opted for something milder. The conversation, to your surprise, flowed naturally.

“So, you don’t believe in love?” Caitlyn asked at one point, her tone curious but non-intrusive.

“Not after what I’ve been through,” you admitted with a surprising level of honesty. “I feel like trusting someone is too dangerous. I’d rather not take the risk.”

Caitlyn nodded slowly. “That’s understandable. We all carry our wounds, but I don’t think you should close yourself off entirely. There are loves that don’t hurt, loves that heal.”

“I’m not sure those exist,” you murmured, staring into your cup as if the answer lay at the bottom.

“Let me ask you something,” Caitlyn said, leaning in slightly. “If you could imagine the perfect love, one that doesn’t hurt you, what would it be like?”

The question caught you off guard but allowed you to dream for a moment. “I guess it would be... someone who respects me, who doesn’t make me feel less. Someone who’s there because they want to be, not because they need me to feel better about themselves.”

“That doesn’t sound impossible,” Caitlyn replied with a soft smile. “Maybe you just need time to find it—or to let it find you.”

The warmth in her words made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time. Caitlyn wasn’t trying to fix you or judge you; she simply wanted to understand you.

After a while, the conversation turned lighter. Caitlyn talked about her hobbies, her walks in nature, and her passion for art. You discovered a shared love for museums, and at one point, you both laughed as you realized you had completely opposite opinions on a famous painting.

Before you knew it, hours had passed. When you finally left the café, you realized that, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about your ex-husband or your fears. Caitlyn had done something you thought impossible: given you a break from your own thoughts.

“Thank you for this,” you said as you parted ways.

“Anytime,” she replied, with a smile that seemed to promise she meant it.

As you walked home, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed. For the first time, you began to wonder if the love Caitlyn described truly existed—and if you might deserve it.

The sense of calm Caitlyn had provided at the café lasted longer than you had expected, but it wasn’t eternal. The next day, the sound of a notification on your phone shattered the fragile tranquility you had begun to build. It was a message from him:

'You can’t hide forever. You know this game won’t last much longer. Just come back, and everything will be as it was before.'

Anger and fear mixed in your chest, forming a knot you could barely untangle. You carefully placed the phone on the table, as if any sudden movement could trigger an explosion. For a moment, you considered doing nothing, but then you thought of Caitlyn—her firm voice, her promise to help you.

Determined, you dialed her number.

“Hello,” she answered, her tone immediate and professional.

“He messaged me again,” you said quickly, as if saying the words more slowly might somehow make them more real.

“What did he say?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

You read her the message, and when you finished, there was a brief silence on the other end before Caitlyn spoke. “This confirms he’s violating the preliminary terms. I need you to send me a screenshot of the message. This will help us strengthen the restraining order.”

“Of course,” you replied, but your voice trembled.

“Listen,” Caitlyn continued, her tone softer now. “I know this is hard, but you’re doing the right thing. Every step we take brings him closer to facing the consequences of his actions. You have my word—we won’t let him get away with this.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, tears welling up in your eyes but refusing to fall. Her voice was like an anchor, something to hold on to while fear threatened to pull you under.

Later that same day, you received another message from Caitlyn. This time, it was an invitation:

'How about a break? If you’re free this afternoon, I’d like to take you somewhere I think you’ll like. We could chat a bit, outside of the legal context.'

The simple fact that she thought of you that way, beyond her professional obligations, made you smile. You hesitated for a moment but then accepted.

The afternoon was warm and sunny when you arrived at the place Caitlyn had indicated: a sprawling field where a small group of horses grazed peacefully. Caitlyn was waiting by the fence, wearing a casual outfit that contrasted with the always-polished image you had of her.

“Horseback riding?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached.

Caitlyn smiled, amused. “I thought you might enjoy something different. You don’t have to ride if you don’t want to, but you should at least try.”

The sparkle in her eyes made any resistance you might have felt vanish. “Alright,” you agreed, even though you had no idea how you were going to manage it.

Caitlyn introduced you to a light brown horse named Storm, assuring you he was calm and obedient. “He’s perfect for beginners,” she said, gently stroking his mane.

With patience and a contagious calmness, Caitlyn taught you how to mount. Her voice was firm yet encouraging, guiding you step by step. At first, you felt clumsy and out of place, but little by little, you began to enjoy the experience.

“This isn’t so bad,” you admitted after a few minutes, surprised at yourself.

“Told you,” Caitlyn replied with a smile.

The afternoon passed in a flash. Caitlyn led you along a trail winding through the trees, and for a moment, you felt free. No past, no fears, just the present. Caitlyn rode beside you, sharing stories from her childhood and laughing with you when you made mistakes.

Then it happened. A low-hanging branch caught you by surprise, and in your attempt to dodge it, you lost your balance. Although the fall wasn’t severe, you hit the ground with a dull thud.

“Are you okay?!” Caitlyn dismounted quickly and ran to you, her face full of worry.

“I’m fine,” you replied, laughing nervously as you brushed off the dirt. “Just hurt my pride.”

“Don’t do that to me again,” Caitlyn said, kneeling beside you. Though her tone was firm, her eyes were full of relief.

Before you could respond, she raised a hand and removed a small twig tangled in your hair. The gesture was so tender and natural it left you speechless.

“Are you really okay?” she asked again, her eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The silence that followed was different, charged with a tension you hadn’t felt before. Caitlyn was so close you could see every detail of her face, from the gentle curve of her lips to the light in her eyes. She was beyond gorgeousness.

And then it happened. Caitlyn leaned toward you slowly, giving you time to stop her if you wanted. But you didn’t. When her lips finally touched yours, it felt like the world stopped. Her kiss was soft, careful, as if she feared breaking something fragile.

When she pulled away, she looked at you with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. “Are you okay with this?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you simply nodded.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about your past or your fears. In that moment, there was only Caitlyn and you. And that was enough.

Caitlyn helped you up after the kiss, holding your hand as you stood. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but she didn’t comment on it. You didn’t know what to say either; words seemed caught in your throat. You simply walked beside her in silence toward the horses, still trying to process what had happened.

“I think it’s best we call it a day for riding lessons,” Caitlyn finally said with a soft smile as she stroked Storm’s mane.

“Yeah... probably for the best,” you replied, your voice barely audible.

You got into Caitlyn’s car, and the ride back was quiet. Though the conversation was light and comfortable, you couldn’t ignore the change that had occurred between you. The kiss lingered in every pause, in every glance she shot your way, and in the slight nervousness you felt whenever her fingers brushed yours on the gear shift.

When you finally arrived at your apartment, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words. Caitlyn walked you to your door as she usually did, but this time, both of you knew something was different.

“Thank you for today,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “It was... unexpected, but I’m glad I went.”

“Me too,” Caitlyn replied, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m glad you gave yourself the chance to try. And... that you let me be there.”

The air between you grew heavier. You didn’t want her to leave, but the idea of inviting her in was terrifying. You’d been avoiding confronting your feelings, your desires, but now they were right in front of you.

Finally, Caitlyn spoke, her tone gentle and cautious. “I don’t want to pressure you, but... would you like me to stay a little longer? Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

You were so happy, it was like she could read your mind, no one had never understood you as well as Caitlyn did.

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Inside your apartment, you tried to keep yourself busy making tea, but your hands trembled slightly as you set out the cups. Caitlyn stood near the table, watching you with a mix of patience and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Yes... just nervous,” you admitted, not turning to face her.

“You don’t have to be,” she replied, her voice low and reassuring. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. I’m just here because I want to be with you, not because I want something from you.”

You took a deep breath and finally turned to face her. “It’s just that... I’ve never been with a woman before. I don’t know what to expect, and... I think I’m scared of doing it wrong.”

Caitlyn smiled, stepping closer until she was close enough to take your hands. “This isn’t a test or something you can fail. It’s just... us. No one else, no expectations, just what you want.”

The sincerity in her voice and the softness of her touch made something inside you relax. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could let your guard down, at least a little.

“I trust you,” you whispered, surprised by your own words.

Caitlyn leaned in and kissed you again, with a tenderness that melted away all your nerves. There was something about the way she touched you, the way she looked at you, that made everything else seem irrelevant. There was no rush, just patience and care, as if she had all the time in the world for you.

As the kiss deepened, she slowly guided you to your room, always attuned to your reactions, ensuring you were comfortable. Your breathing was uneven, but not out of fear this time. It was different—something warmer, more intimate.

“If at any point you want me to stop, just say so,” Caitlyn murmured against your lips, her tone filled with so much understanding it nearly made you cry.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Caitlyn smiled and sat you down on the bed, she knelt down in front of you and carefully removed your shoes, placing them on the side of the bed, perfectly aligned. There was something about the way she touched you, it was so motherly, so loving.

“What do I do?” You asked, your nerves on edge, sounding like a complete novice, in fact you felt like you were a virgin again.

But Caitlyn didn’t judge you, she moved closer to you, her perfect posture slightly bent.

“Why don’t we start by taking off our clothes? We’ll be more comfortable that way,” She caressed your cheek before adding, “I would take them off myself, but I want to push you to get out of your comfort zone on your own. I know you can do it.”

You rubbed your face against her hand, grateful. The way she always believed in you, with her encouraging words, gave you enough confidence to do it. This was the first time you had ever stripped so quickly in your life, your pants and sweater flew across the room, as did your underwear. And you were anxious, eager, it was a new experience that even though it terrified you, you really wanted to enjoy.

Your cheeks burned when you saw a naked Caitlyn in front of you. She was standing upright with that confident smile, and how could she not be confident in herself if she looked absolutely breathtaking? Her build was slim, but not flabby, you could tell she took great care of herself, perhaps with a strict diet and exercise routine. Her waist was so small and her hips big, Caitlyn was the physical definition of what an hourglass was.

However, that wasn't what caught your attention the most. You couldn't take your eyes off her breasts, they were much bigger than yours, pale and firm. They probably wouldn't fit in your hands completely, they would overflow through your fingers. Your tongue licked your lips as you imagined such a scene.

"Do you want to touch them?" Caitlyn once again read your mind.

At another time you would have been extremely embarrassed, but this wasn't the case, your mind was clouded with fictional scenarios that you wanted to make come true at all costs, so you nodded without thinking.

A small smirk played at the corners of her lips as she reached out, taking your hand in hers. Guiding it slowly, she placed your palm directly over one of her soft, supple mounds.

"Go on then," she purred, her voice low and inviting. "Touch them. Feel how soft and warm they are..."

As your fingers began to explore her delicate flesh, Caitlyn let out a soft sigh, arching slightly into your touch. Your hands kneaded and caressed, marveling at the way her nipples stiffened beneath your palms.

"Mmm, your touch feels so good..." she breathed, desire evident in her half-lidded blue eyes.

She took your other hand, placing it on her hip before slowly trailing it up the curve of her waist, over her ribs, until it too cupped the weight of her other breast. Caitlyn shivered at the sensation, her heart racing as she gazed into your eyes with open want.

She leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left no doubt as to her intentions. Her tongue dominated yours, stoking the flames of your desire as her naked body pressed against yours, soft curves melding with harder planes.

"Can I put them in my mouth?" You asked like a hungry baby.

Caitlyn's breath hitched as she felt your eager words whispered against her lips. A thrill ran through her at the desperation in your voice, the clear desire to taste her. She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, her own gaze smoldering with want.

"You can do whatever you want, though I love that you ask permission first. Go on then." Caitlyn whispered to you, tucking your hair behind your ears.

She guided your head down, cradling the back of your neck as she brought your lips to the swell of her breast. The scent of her perfume mixed with the natural aroma of her skin filled your nostrils, making your mouth water with anticipation.

"Don't hold back, love," Caitlyn encouraged, her British accent husky with desire.

And you didn't waste any more time, you buried your face against her breasts as if your life depended on it. You sniffed like a bloodhound tracking the tracks of a wild animal in the forest. It was like hugging the best pillow on the market. It was a soft paradise.

She gasped as your lips closed around the hardened peak, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive flesh. Her fingers tangled in your hair, holding you close as jolts of pleasure raced through her body.

"That's it," she panted, arching into you. "Just like that... Ah! Your mouth feels incredible... Are you sure that's your first time with a woman?"

You blushed and suddenly found yourself thirsty for praise, needing her approval.

“Am I doing this right?” You murmured with her right nipple still in your mouth.

Caitlyn closed her eyes and frowned, as if trying to control herself, you were pushing all the right buttons in her.

Caitlyn let out a sharp gasp followed by a low, appreciative moan as you suckled harder at her breast, your enthusiasm evident in every movement of your mouth. Her fingers tightened their grip in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp.

"Oh, yes, you're doing it so very right," she praised breathlessly, her voice dripping with desire. "Your mouth feels divine on my skin. Don't stop, darling... Keep worshipping my breasts just like that."

She guided your head from one breast to the other, making sure you gave each the same devoted attention. With each suckle and lick, Caitlyn felt the heat between her thighs grow, her arousal building with every passing second.

"That's it, sweetheart... Use your tongue more, trace the curves of my breasts. Ah! Yes, just like that..." she encouraged, her head falling back as she arched into your touch. "You're stoking the flames of my desire with every brush of your lips against my skin."

Caitlyn's heart raced, her chest heaving with each ragged breath she took. She had never felt so wanted, so desired, and it was all thanks to your eager, inexperienced touch. It was intoxicating, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back for long if you kept touching her like this.

"Mmm... You're a natural at this," she purred, her words dripping with approval. "Keep pleasuring me just like that, and I'll make sure to reward you properly..."

With that promise hanging in the air between you, Caitlyn guided your mouth back to her breast, desperate to feel your lips and tongue on her sensitive flesh once more. She needed you to keep touching her, to keep stoking the inferno raging inside her... until it consumed them both.

Caitlyn gazed at you with a mix of lust and adoration, taking in the sight of your messy hair, saliva-slick lips, and those adorable, desire-glazed eyes. She felt her heart clench in her chest, overwhelmed by the sheer, unbridled want she saw reflected back at her. Unable to resist, Caitlyn leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left no doubt as to her hunger for you.

As she broke the kiss, Caitlyn's hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly. With a surge of strength, she flipped your positions, easily maneuvering you both until she was lying on her back on the bed, your smaller frame now draped over hers. She could feel heat the of your skin against every inch of her body, stoking the flames of her arousal to new heights.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt your core grind against her thigh, your slick arousal coating her skin. The sensation sent a bolt of desire straight to her own aching center, making her hips buck up involuntarily to meet yours. She could hear the needy moan that tore from your throat, the sound echoing in the charged air between you.

"Mmm," Caitlyn purred, her voice a low, seductive rasp. "Does my girl want to ride my thigh? Is that what you need, love?"

You felted so ashamed, but that didn't stopped you from nodding.

She reached down, gripping your hips and guiding you to grind against her thigh more deliberately. Her own hips rolled in tandem with yours, providing a steady, delicious friction that promised to drive you both wild with lust.

"That's it," she encouraged, her blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded as she watched your face contort with pleasure. "Use my thigh, sweetheart."

Caitlyn's own body thrummed with need, her core clenching and fluttering around nothing. She desperately wanted to fill you, to claim you, to make you hers in every way imaginable. But for now, she would settle for watching you take your pleasure from her, knowing that your satisfaction would only heighten her own.

You let your own body move, grinding your pussy over Caitlyn's thigh. Your whole face was bright red, you were so embarrassed that you liked something so dirty, you couldn't believe you had these kinds of... fetishes. Caitlyn was making you discover new things about yourself.

Caitlyn watched in awe as you began to move your hips more urgently, grinding your dripping pussy against her thigh with increasing need. She could feel the heat of your arousal, the slickness of your desire coating her skin, and it only fueled her own rapidly growing hunger. Your face was flushed a pretty pink, your eyes wide and uncertain, and Caitlyn found it utterly charming to see you so shamelessly chasing your pleasure.

"Oh, sweetheart," she breathed, her voice heavy with lust and a touch of amusement. "You don't need to be ashamed. Feeling good, taking what you need... it's not naughty or wrong. It's natural, and I think it's absolutely delicious seeing you lost in the throes of passion. Actually, I think now that you're even a better rider than me."

Her statement made you shiver with excitement. You weren't used to seeing this shameless side of Caitlyn and you loved it.

Caitlyn's hands slid around to cup the rounded globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh as she encouraged your movements. She guided your hips, rocking them against her thigh in a steady, sensual rhythm that had your breath coming faster and your moans growing louder with each passing second.

"That's it, darling... Let yourself feel good," she purred, leaning up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. "I want to watch you come undone, sweetheart. I want to feel your tight little pussy flutter and clench as you find your release..."

God, it was too much for you. Seeing the renowned and dignified attorney Caitlyn Kiramman swearing like that, telling you these dirty things. It was just too much.

Caitlyn's own body was burning up, her core aching with a deep, throbbing need. She could feel her juices flowing freely, coating her thighs as her desire grew more urgent. The sight of you lost in pleasure, the sounds of your increasingly desperate moans and cries, it was all pushing Caitlyn closer and closer to the edge of her own climax.

"Come for me," she demanded breathlessly, her voice thick with longing. "I want to feel your pleasure, sweetheart. Give yourself to me, and I promise I'll give you everything you've ever wanted and more..."

You wanted to give it to her, you wanted to keep going, but your lower body hurt, you weren't used to physical exercise. Besides, you couldn't remember the last time you had sex, it was normal that you were so rusty.

"I'm tired, Cait," you confessed breathlessly, it was the first time you had called her that way, it had escaped so naturally from your lips that it made both of you smile.

With a sudden, swift motion, she flipped your positions once again, this time pinning you beneath her on the bed. She settled her hips between your spread thighs, her dripping core pressing hot and hard against your own. Caitlyn's breath caught in her throat as she felt the slick slide of your sexes meeting, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through her body.

Caitlyn began to move, rolling her hips in a sensual grind against yours. She could feel her slick arousal mingling with your own, the combination of your juices creating a delicious, intoxicating friction that made her toes curl in bliss. She set a steady, sensual rhythm, her hips undulating sinuously as she scissored her aching sex against yours.

"That's it, love," she panted, her blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded as she gazed down at you. "Feel how wet I am, how much I want you... I'm going to make us both come, sweetheart. Hard and fast, until we're both drowning in ecstasy."

She was so romantic and naughty at the same time. She was just perfect.

Caitlyn leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing, dominating kiss. She plundered your mouth with her tongue, swallowing the sweet sounds of your pleasure as she ground her hips more insistently against yours. She could feel her climax building, the coil of tension in her core winding tighter and tighter with each passing second.

"Come with me, sweetheart," she demanded breathlessly against your lips. "Let go, and I promise I'll catch you on the other side. I want to feel you shaking apart in my arms as we come together..."

With a final, sharp thrust of her hips, Caitlyn pushed you both over the edge, crying out in rapture as her orgasm crashed.

Caitlyn's body shuddered and convulsed against yours as her climax slammed into her with the force of a freight train. A guttural, wanton moan tore from her throat, the sound echoing off the walls of the bedroom as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure consumed her. Her hips jerked and spasmed, grinding her spasming sex against yours in a desperate, almost frantic need to prolong the mind-blowing sensations coursing through her veins.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried out, her voice ragged and raw with ecstasy. "Yes, yes, fuck! Don't stop, please, sweetheart!"

It was so funny how Caitlyn cursed but never forgot her manners.

Your nails raked down her back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to her like a woman possessed. She could feel your own body trembling beneath hers, your pussy clenching and fluttering wildly against her own as you teetered on the brink of your own shattering release. The knowledge that she had brought you to this point, that your shared pleasure was about to crest and break over you both like a tidal wave, only heightened Caitlyn's own rapidly building peak.

"That's it, my sweet girl," she panted harshly, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. "Let go, baby. Let it happen. I've got you

With a final, brutal thrust of her hips, Caitlyn drove you both over the precipice, screaming in rapture as your combined orgasms exploded through you like a supernova. Her pussy clamped down around yours, pulsing and throbbing as she gushed her release, coating your thighs and your belly with her slick essence. Caitlyn's entire body quaked and shuddered, lost in the throes of the most intense, mind-melting climax of her life as she rode out the aftershocks of her pleasure, pinning you beneath her.

You both stayed there on the bed, fighting for air.

“How did it feel?” Caitlyn asked you, very interested in your answer.

“Amazing,” You admitted with a smirk. “I don’t know how I haven’t tried this before. Lesbian sex is amazing.” You teased a little.

Caitlyn chuckled softly, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her kiss-swollen lips as she gazed down at you with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration. She could still feel the aftershocks of her intense orgasm coursing through her body, making her skin tingle and her heart race. The sight of you lying boneless and sated beneath her, your face flushed and your eyes glazed with post-coital bliss, only served to heighten Caitlyn's own sense of deep, visceral satisfaction.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart," she purred, her voice a low, sensual rasp.

Caitlyn rolled off of you gently, but kept you tucked close to her side. She draped one arm possessively around your waist, holding you near as she traced idle patterns on your sweat-slicked skin. The feeling of your naked body pressed against hers, the way your curves and valleys seemed to fit so perfectly against her own, made Caitlyn's heart swell with a fierce, protective affection.

And with that, the moment changed. It was as if everything you had been afraid of vanished, replaced by a feeling of connection and desire you hadn’t experienced before. Caitlyn was everything you had needed, everything you had never believed possible.

That’s when you realized: for the first time, you weren’t running from your past but embracing the possibility of a future.

You woke up early the next morning, sunlight streaming through the curtains of your bedroom. The feeling from the previous night still lingered in your body—a mixture of disbelief and a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. You turned your head, and there she was, Caitlyn, still asleep, her dark hair framing her peaceful face.

There was something profoundly calming about seeing her like this, stripped of her usual elegant and composed demeanor. For a moment, everything felt simple. But then, your thoughts began to swirl in your mind.

"What does this mean? What does she expect from me? Can I handle this when I don’t even trust myself yet?"

You carefully slipped out of bed so as not to wake her and headed to the kitchen. You needed coffee. Leaning against the counter, you stared into the void, trying to organize your emotions.

"I didn’t expect to find you up so early," Caitlyn’s calm voice spoke behind you.

You turned quickly, startled. She was there, wrapped in one of the sheets, a soft smile on her lips. She seemed completely relaxed, as if last night hadn’t been an emotional earthquake.

"Sorry if I woke you," you said nervously, avoiding her gaze.

"It wasn’t that," she replied, approaching. "I was just worried when you weren’t in bed."

The concern in her tone caused a knot to form in your throat. "I just… needed a moment to think."

Caitlyn didn’t push you; she simply approached and took your hands. "If you need space, I understand. But I want you to know I’m here. And I don’t expect anything from you that you’re not ready to give."

Her honesty was disarming. You had never met someone who respected your boundaries so much, who made you feel seen and heard.

"It’s complicated," you finally said. "This is new to me, and I’m still… dealing with everything that happened with him."

Caitlyn nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "You don’t have to explain everything now. You don’t have to have it all figured out. I just want you to know you’re not alone."

You took a deep breath and nodded. Her words, though simple, struck deep. Maybe you didn’t need to have all the answers. Maybe you just needed to allow yourself to feel, step by step.

The rest of the day passed in a strange but welcome calm. Caitlyn offered to make breakfast, and you watched her as she skillfully moved through the ingredients, enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

"You should know my culinary skills are pretty limited," she joked as she placed some toast and eggs on a plate.

"If you do worse than me, that would be an achievement," you replied, relaxing enough to smile.

The shared laughter eased some of the tension you still felt, and for a moment, it was easy to imagine this could be normal.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" Caitlyn asked as she cleared the dishes after breakfast.

"I guess I should work on some pending paperwork," you said, though you knew your concentration would be nonexistent.

"What if we take the day off?" she suggested, leaning against the doorframe. "We could do something relaxing, something that makes you feel good."

"Like what?" you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"We could take a walk around the city or visit an art gallery. There’s a photography exhibit I’ve been wanting to see. Or we could just stay here and watch a movie."

The ease with which Caitlyn suggested plans, without any pressure, made you feel more comfortable. "The gallery sounds nice," you finally responded.

The gallery was everything Caitlyn had promised and more. The space was wide and bright, with white walls that highlighted the vibrant framed images. Each photograph seemed to hold its own universe, from natural landscapes to portraits that captured human emotions with disarming intensity.

Caitlyn walked beside you, occasionally stopping to read the descriptions or admire the details of a piece. You were surprised by the depth of her comments. "Look at how the use of light here gives a sense of hope, despite the somber setting," she pointed out in an image of a desolate alley illuminated by a rising sun.

"Are you always this observant?" you asked, trying to hide your admiration for her intelligence.

"I guess it’s part of my job," she replied with a smile. "You learn to read between the lines, whether it’s in a case or a piece of art."

There was one particular moment that struck you. You stopped in front of a black-and-white photograph of a woman in the rain, holding a broken umbrella. There was something in her posture, in the lost look that didn’t face the camera, that deeply resonated with you.

"What do you think of this one?" Caitlyn asked beside you, curious about your reaction.

"It reminds me of myself," you replied after a moment, with a honesty that surprised you.

Caitlyn turned to you, her eyes full of interest. "Why?"

"Because she looks lost but is still standing. Even though everything around her is falling apart, she’s still there."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Caitlyn simply nodded, as if she understood exactly what you meant, even without further explanation. "That strength you see in her is also in you," she said softly.

She took your hand, and for the first time, you didn’t feel tempted to pull away.

Back at the apartment, the atmosphere was different. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a palpable emotional weight that seemed to fill every corner of the room. Caitlyn sat on the couch, her eyes following you as you moved nervously, unsure of what to do with your hands.

"Do you want to talk about what you’re feeling?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

You stopped, your heart pounding. "I’m not sure what I feel. All of this… you… it’s so different from what I’m used to."

She nodded slowly, remaining calm. "I know this is new for you. But you don’t have to have all the answers now. I just want you to trust me. To trust that I’m not going to hurt you."

Her words were like a balm for your wounded soul. You sat beside her, your trembling hands finding hers. "It’s hard to trust. After everything I went through… I feel like if I let go, I’ll end up broken again."

Caitlyn didn’t look away. "I can’t promise everything will be perfect. But I can promise I’ll do everything I can to take care of you. To not be another wound in your life."

You stayed silent for a moment, processing her words. Then, in an act of bravery you didn’t know you had, you leaned closer and rested your head on her shoulder. "Thank you for staying," you whispered.

"I always will," she replied, wrapping you in an embrace that was not only warm but filled with the promise of a love unlike any you had known before.

The night falls with an unsettling stillness in the air. The apartment is completely silent, interrupted only by the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore, but there is no peace in your mind. The phone on the table flashes, and with a sigh, you take it in your hands. It’s a text message, something that twists your stomach every time it appears. The name on the screen burns your eyes.

The message is brief, but its words are like poison infiltrating your thoughts: "I know where you live. You know you’ll always belong to me, right?"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but anxiety begins to boil inside you. Fear, panic—you thought you had buried these feelings weeks ago, but now they resurface stronger than ever. He always had a way of manipulating you, making you feel like there was no way out, like he was the only constant in your life, the only source of "safety." And even though you left him behind, every message, every word, is a reminder of his control. A control that now seems to be taking hold of you again.

You can’t let that happen—not this time.

Suddenly, Caitlyn appears in the kitchen doorway, concern etched on her face. Her eyes immediately catch the phone in your hand, the tension in the air between you both palpable. You don’t need to say anything for her to understand. Caitlyn’s face hardens, and without hesitation, she walks toward you.

“Is it him again?” she asks, her voice low but firm.

You nod, putting the phone away, though the desperation still courses through your veins. Caitlyn steps closer and takes your hands in hers, looking at you with a protective intensity that makes you feel a little safer. “You’re not facing this alone,” she says, her words full of conviction. And even though you know she means it, you can’t help but feel a shadow of doubt. After all, it’s not clear what anyone could do to stop him once and for all.

“I know, but…” you hesitate, your voice trembling with fear and frustration. “I don’t want you to put yourself in danger. You don’t have to get involved in this.”

Caitlyn looks at you with a soft but determined smile. “I’ve told you before. I don’t want you to face anything alone. And this isn’t just your problem, you understand? This is mine too, because I love you.”

Those words, those three simple words, hit your chest like a lightning bolt, and for a moment, everything else disappears. The fear, the despair, the harassment… all of it fades in the warm light of her gaze. Is it possible that you’ve found something greater than fear? Something stronger than your past?

Your mind races, but your heart stops for an instant, as if time itself has frozen. Caitlyn loves you. And you… you felted something too, more than you dare admit. But fear, that dark shadow you’ve always carried, prevents you from fully trusting.

“What are we going to do?” you finally ask, though you know the answer lies beyond your fears.

Caitlyn looks into your eyes, her expression serious but her tone firm and protective. “I’m going to take more aggressive legal action. We’re not going to wait anymore. We’ll make sure he stops.”

The knot in your stomach loosens slightly. The confidence in her voice, the promise in her eyes—these are all you need right now. You accept her support, though part of you still wonders whether this is the end of the road or just the beginning of more suffering.

“What if… it’s not enough?” you whisper, almost as if speaking it aloud would make it real.

Caitlyn crouches to your level, gently taking your face in her hands. “If it were just my fear, I’d face it alone. But it’s not, and if you ever feel this way, you tell me, alright? I’m your partner. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Her tender gesture surprises you, but it also inspires you. Despite everything you’ve been through, the fact that she’s willing to fight alongside you gives you a glimmer of hope you’d long forgotten.

Caitlyn pulls back slightly but not before placing a kiss on your forehead—a silent promise that everything will be okay, or at least that you’ll try together.

The next morning, Caitlyn becomes an unstoppable force. She calls a few trusted colleagues, begins drafting legal documents, and files a formal complaint. She doesn’t do it out of revenge but for you, to protect you. And while you know the legal battle could last weeks, months, you feel a small spark of relief.

Meanwhile, your feelings for Caitlyn begin to solidify. Her constant support, her determination, her bravery… all of it makes you question what you thought you knew about love. Over the days, your conversations grow deeper. The fear of rejection, of vulnerability, still lingers, but so does the certainty that this woman won’t let you fall.

And amidst all of it, your ex-husband’s harassment, though it hasn’t completely stopped, seems to lessen. But there’s still something inside you that you can’t let go of—a sense of insecurity that remains, hidden in the shadows of your heart.

But Caitlyn is by your side. And that’s a truth you’re willing to believe.

The trial has been long, exhausting, and at times, almost unbearable. The days have stretched on, evidence has been presented, emotions have run high, but today, finally, it feels like it’s all about to end. The courtroom is filled with a palpable tension. Nerves are so thick they could be cut with a knife as you await the verdict.

Caitlyn stands by your side, her constant and comforting presence. She’s been with you through every moment, facing every challenge and obstacle alongside you. You feel her hand touch yours, a small gesture, but one full of meaning. The warmth of her touch is the only thing grounding you amidst the emotional storm surrounding you.

The judge finally enters, his voice resonating in the silent room. "We have heard all the evidence, analyzed the testimonies, and after deliberating, this court has reached its verdict."

Your heart beats faster, each word from the judge making time seem to stretch even further. He looks at your ex-husband, with a disapproving expression, and then turns to you, as if everything you’ve endured up until now is finally coming to a resolution.

"The verdict is in favor of the plaintiff. Custody of assets, protection orders, and the no-contact ruling will remain in effect. The defendant, Mr. King..." The judge pauses, as if his words carry the weight of an entire destiny. "...is hereby issued an arrest warrant for his violent behavior during this process."

A sigh of relief escapes your lips. Caitlyn squeezes your hand tightly, sharing this moment of triumph with you. You’ve won. The fear, the uncertainty, the pain—all of it has finally come to an end. But before you can fully savor the feeling, something shifts.

Suddenly, he stands up, his face red with rage. "This isn’t over!" he shouts, his voice filled with fury. "You’ve ruined me! You’ve taken everything from me! I’ll make you pay!"

Fear courses through your veins, panic overtakes you, but before you can react, he lunges at you, his hands wrapping around your neck with brutal force. You can’t breathe; the air is knocked from your lungs, and the pressure on your throat makes you see stars.

In that instant, Caitlyn intervenes. You see her move swiftly, shoving him with all her strength. But the force of her push causes him to lose control, and in the process, he unintentionally pushes her so hard that she falls to the floor, her head striking the edge of a nearby table.

Everything stops.

The chaos of the courtroom fades, and all you can hear is the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Caitlyn lies on the floor, motionless. The wound on her forehead is evident, blood beginning to pool on the ground, and a wave of terror and despair washes over you completely.

"Caitlyn!" you scream, rushing to her, your body trembling as you try to cradle her face. Your hands shake as you touch her skin, now slick with blood, and the sight of her still form on the floor makes you feel as if the entire world is collapsing around you. "No! Please, wake up!"

People shout around you, some rushing to call for an ambulance, but all you can think about is her. Caitlyn. The woman who has stood by you, who has fought for you, who has done everything to help you. And now she’s here, on the floor, unmoving.

Your breath catches, but you manage to stay calm enough to check for her pulse. Seconds feel like an eternity, but finally, you feel it. She’s breathing. Relief. But it’s only fleeting. Fear still grips you, the pain of seeing her injured consumes you.

The ambulance arrives quickly, and within minutes, they’re taking her to the hospital. The paramedics assure you that the worst is over, that her injury isn’t severe, but you can’t shake the knot in your stomach. Everything you feared has happened. Now, the future feels more uncertain than ever. Guilt mixes with the fear of losing her, and for a moment, you doubt everything you’ve known so far.

You sit in the hospital hallway, trembling, your body unable to stop its small shudders of anxiety. The hours seem to stretch on, but you can’t move. You can’t breathe easily until you know she’s okay.

Finally, a nurse appears. "Ms. Caitlyn is awake. You can go see her."

Your heart pounds as you rush to the room. When you enter, you see her there, lying on the bed, her face pale but with that familiar smile on her lips. She’s not as bad as you feared, but the sight of her injured still stings deeply.

"How are you?" you ask, your voice trembling, fear still running through your veins.

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes shining with a tenderness that melts you. "I’m fine," she says softly, though her tone is full of exhaustion. "Just a little dizzy, but what matters is that you’re safe. That’s what’s important, right?"

You sit beside her, gripping her hand tightly. Your fingers tremble as you seek her touch. "I saw you fall," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I saw you fall, and it felt like the world was ending. I didn’t want to lose you, Cait. I don’t want to lose you."

Caitlyn squeezes your hand, her face filled with that calm that always reassures you. "You don’t have to lose me," she says, her voice steady. "I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay."

A few minutes of silence pass, broken only by the soft sound of Caitlyn’s breathing and the rhythm of your heart. The fear of losing her, that overwhelming feeling that you couldn’t live without her, is something new to you. But in that moment, you realize something. Something you’ve been avoiding, afraid to feel it: you’ve fallen in love. Not just with Caitlyn, but with what she represents to you, with how she makes you feel when she’s with you. You’re no longer afraid of what’s to come, because now, the only thing you know is that life, though uncertain, is far more bearable with her by your side.

A few hours later, your ex-husband is arrested for attempted murder. He’s taken into custody, and although the legal process will continue, the fact that he can’t come near you ever again is a relief. You feel a peace you’ve never known before.

Night falls, and you and Caitlyn return home in silence. At your side, she smiles, and though you don’t say a word, you know everything has changed. The fear is gone. The pain has given way to new hope.

Before entering the apartment, you stop and look into her eyes. "I love you," you whisper, finally allowing yourself to accept what you’ve been avoiding for so long.

Caitlyn looks at you, with that gaze that makes you feel safer than ever. "And I love you," she replies softly, before taking your face in her hands and leaning in to kiss your lips tenderly.

At last, you feel like the future is yours to write, together, without fear or shadows.

[sgtgarricks]

afab!reader

i think john price would be sooo incredibly oblivious to your advances to the point it pisses you off.

imagine you've had a crush on your captain for a few months now, you've dug around information and find out that yes, he is single.

so you get to work.

you smile at him whenever you see him (the only other person you usually smile at is soap). you try to stay later than usual to catch him leaving just so you can have a few minutes of extra conversation with him.

you're kind of touchy (but not too much), brushing your fingers with him whenever you get the chance. whenever you get called into his office, you make sure to crack a joke or two, just to see his eyes crinkle.

you were down bad for him. like, really bad. whenever he even slightly smiles or praises you, you preen like you just won a gold medal and your face feels hot.

so, you genuinely don't understand how he seems so unfazed?? at the very least he should've felt something was up and rejected you if he wasn't into it. but nope, he's still smiling at you, ruffling your hair.

okay, you think maybe you're being too subtle. it's been three months and there isn't any response.

you begin to bring him little gifts. nothing expensive or big, trinkets that would fit in your pocket. a little keychain of a cigar, a pin of his favorite football club, packets of his favorite coffee flavor.

"oh, what's this for then?" he'd asked, glancing at the little keychain.

"nothin'. just saw it and reminded me of you!" you grin happily. he still seems confused, but accepts your gift anyway.

"thank you, that's very kind of you :)" he gifted you one or two items, even going as far to let you ride shotgun on missions. you were feeling fairly optimistic.

this goes on for another three months, you bringing him something once every two weeks. it's gotten to the point where even soap and gaz have realized what's up (simon doesn't give a fuck).

"you got favorites now? don't think we've ever received a gift from 'em gaz." soap loves to make fun of your infatuation with price. gaz doesn't start anything, but he'd gladly chime in.

after half a year, you're pissed off. because how has he not said anything yet?? you thought he was starting to catch your drift but apparently not. he was either leading you on or genuinely thinks you were just being friendly.

you're over the top now, even simon's cringing slightly at you blatantly gushing over the captain.

you were linking your arm with his if you two walked somewhere together (his forehead did the little scrunch from confusion but didn't say anything).

anytime he wanted to show you something, you'd come around and stand as close to him as possible. one time you even put your head on his shoulder to read the document.

even your jokes had gotten more flirtatious without being overtly sexual. yet still... nothing.

you were pissed. you've been throwing yourself at him every chance you got, any more you'd get written up for fraternization. the next time all of you go out for drinks at the pub, you decide it's do or die.

you put on your best dress, one that hugs your figure nicely. you even do your hair and put a bit of make up on. tonight was the night you were either going to have your heart broken or have a good time.

when you open the door to the pub, you know gaz spots you first judging by the drink he just spat. soap turns and whistles, laughing loudly (simon didn't come). you see price is missing, but you find him at the bar ordering drinks. you slink next to him.

"another one for me?" he spins at the sound of your voice, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second. he coughs and brings up another finger to the bartender.

"you look..." he begins, you inch yourself forward to hear him better and shove something in his face. "different." the smile instantly drops from your face. you pull him away from the bar easily (he let you) and drag him outside.

"why are we out here?" he questions innocently. you huff, not believing the audacity of this man in front of you.

"captain. with all due respect, i don't know how many more signs i can give you before i lose my mind. i have my tits out," you gesture at them and his eyes falls downwards before going back to your face, "and you haven't even looked once."

"i like you, you can kiss me right now or tell me to fuck off and transfer me." you cross your arms, lips turning down into a frown. he was in shock, you can almost physically see a loading bar on top of his head.

to your surprise, he cups your face and leans down to kiss you. your heart was thumping and mouth slightly agape, but the only response you could think of was, "were you really that oblivious?"

"sorry, love. i thought you were just trying to ride shotgun." he grins.

what an idiot (affectionate).

notes: ahfudshf my stupid old man <3

[wooziorgans]

a pretty boy and a happy birthday || ljh

summary: it’s y/n’s first birthday in korea with jihoon. he’s somehow managed to keep his plans for their birthday a secret. despite both jihoon and y/n not being big fans of pda, today is different. it’s hard to keep the love you feel for someone on their day hidden.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: saying ily sooo much like almost too much. crying on your birthday (happy tears tho). mentions of a previous ldr. long distance friendship n missing your best friend. reader doesn’t like seaweed. mentions of drinking. pussy drunk jihoon. sweet ol’ love making. missionary. riding. overstimulation (both). edging (m.). unprotected sex. jihoon also cries. riding jihoon until he cries. popping the question while being balls deep inside ur partner. surprises.

a/n: happy birthday to ME. this is super self indulgent cus it was my birthday so i wrote this for me and me only. but u can also read it too. also sorry it’s uhhh late. i got into the re-editing mood so uh I rewrote half of this. anyways. enjoy!!!

Jihoon’s arm wraps around Y/N as he watches the second hand tick on his watch. “Three… two… one.” He presses a soft kiss to their lips. “Happy birthday, my love.” His hand carefully holds the side of their face as he pulls the covers further over both of them. He places another tender kiss on their lips, thumb brushing over the corner of their mouth.

“Thank you, pretty.” Y/N’s voice is soft and Jihoon sees his partner's lip start to quiver softly, as their eyes start to get glassy.

“Wait, baby, fuck. Don't cry.” Jihoon chuckles lightheartedly, thumb moving to catch the small tear that starts to run down their cheek. “Please don't cry, my love. It’s okay, you’re okay. I love you, so so so much.” He reassures, kissing their forehead, as his thumb continues to stroke their cheek in the familiar way it always does.

This doesn’t seem to help Y/N at all. More small tears escape their eyes, wetting the fabric of Jihoon’s shirt and his thumb.

“I know,” Y/N’s voice breaks softly as they cry, a small smile pulling at the corners of their mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m just so… I love you Jihoon. I’m so happy to be here and finally spend things like this with you. Thank you for waiting for me.” They puff out their bottom lip in a pout. Jihoon laughs quietly, despite the tears he’s now also pushing back.

The moment is dissolved as Y/N’s phone starts to vibrate against Jihoon’s chest. Y/N picks it up, swiping to answer, already knowing who it is.

“Happy birthday, stupid. I miss you.” Their best friend, now countries away smiling through the facetime call at them, greets.

“Thanks. I miss you too. You should come visit when you can.” Y/N pouts softly, and the feeling of almost crying is back. Through the screen, Y/N sees their friends face shift.

“Please don’t cry. I’ll see what I can do with my vacation hours next month and we’ll figure something out. I love you, y’know?” She speaks softly, and Y/N only pouts more. She had this ability to read Y/N like no other, only rivaled by Jihoon and Seungkwan. But even then, the near decade of friendship had its benefits.

“I love you too. I really want you to see Korea; it’s so beautiful here.” Y/N smiles softly after finally keeping their tears at bay.

“Any big plans for today?” She asks, head tilting to the side.

“Mm… probably not. I think I’ll just spend the day with Jihoon. He took it off work, and you know how he is, so we have to make the most out of his day off.” A wide smile spreads over Y/N’s entire face as they talk about their partner.

“You got him to take a day off? God, you’re so lovesick it makes me want to throw up.” She laughs softly, no clear indication of actually wanting to hurl. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Hm? Oh. I’m laying on him right now.” Y/N pans the camera up to Jihoon, who waves the best he can with his arm caged under Y/N.

“Ah, well, I’ll let you two get to sleep. It’s late for you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. We’ll talk later. Have fun on your day off.” She waves to the camera, wiggling her fingers. Y/N reciprocates the action.

“Okay. I love you.” Y/N smiles.

“I love you too. Goodnight.” She drags out the last syllable in a sing-song tone. Y/N echoes her, before her face is gone from the screen.

Y/N pouts softly again, and Jihoon runs a hand through their hair. “You’re okay, baby. No more crying, sweetheart. You’re not supposed to cry on your birthday.” Jihoon coos. Y/N laughs softly.

“I cry every year on my birthday.” Jihoon wipes their eyes with his thumb, a fond smile on his lips.

“You’re such a big baby.” He jokes, lips pressing against the top of their head.

“Yeah, but I’m your baby.” Y/N giggles, leaning up into his touch.

“Yeah,” Jihoon whispers softly, “you are.” They’re far past the point of being shy around each other, but for some reason Jihoon feels especially bashful.

Maybe it’s because it’s the first birthday they’re able to spend with each other, in their house; the one Jihoon finalized three months after Y/N made it to Korea to be with him. They had outgrown his apartment, and with Y/N moving so far to be with him, he was ready to justify the purchase as a way to provide for Y/N, and for the future when both of them were ready to properly settle down.

His heart swells loudly in his chest, all of the air in his lungs suddenly feels thick. “Let's go to sleep, okay? You’re getting tired, I can feel it. You can spoil me in the morning.” Y/N, ever observant of Jihoon, whispers. Jihoon hadn’t even registered his own fatigue until Y/N had mentioned it. His arm feels heavy around Y/N, and not from them laying on it.

Jihoon cranes his neck down for a kiss, which Y/N returns languidly. Their brief crying session made their fatigue set in much faster.

“M’kay. I love you. Happy birthday.” Jihoon runs his fingers through their hair again. Y/N’s hand brushes over Jihoon’s chest, nail catching softly on his nipple. He shudders softly. “Not right now, honey. I promise I’ll spoil you so good tonight. Gonna buy you whatever you want today.” Jihoon’s speech starts to meld into itself as he starts to drift off. His hand settles on their back as he rubs soft circles on the bottom of their shoulder blades. Y/N leans into his side further, face nuzzling into his chest.

“Okay. I love you.” Is all they offer, before they close their eyes, hand gripping the fabric of his shirt softly.

An unfamiliar smell spreading through the house is what wakes Y/N up. They groan softly, rolling over, expecting Jihoon to be there. His side of the bed is still warm, and once sounds start to register, they hear a soft sizzling sound from the kitchen. Taking a few seconds to sit up and adjust to the new position, they place their feet on the heated linoleum floor. What a perk of dating a millionaire. 

Rubbing their eyes as they stand, they slowly make their way out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen. 

Jihoon stands over the stovetop, spatula in hand as he focuses on monitoring the pan and a small pot. Y/N approaches him carefully, arms wrapping around his bare waist. His sweatpants hang off his hips, v-line exposed to the open air. 

Jihoon jumps slightly, before he relaxes against Y/N. “Good morning. You weren’t supposed to be up yet. I was supposed to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” Y/N leans over his shoulder, chin resting on it. They can hear the slight pout in his voice, which is gravely in the same way it is every morning. 

“‘M sorry. My pillow was gone, and so is your shirt, apparently.” Y/N laughs softly, pressing a soft kiss to Jihoon’s cheek.

“Stove’s hot. Go and sit, it’s almost ready.” Y/N nods, kissing his neck softly before they ruffle his hair in the same way that used to make him grimace in the early days of their relationship. Now, he smiles softly at the gesture, hand placed over the one they have wrapped around his front.

Y/N slips away from Jihoon to take a seat on the couch. They turn on the television, getting comfortable in the mountain of blankets on the couch. A few minutes later, Jihoon comes into the living room, balancing a tray on his hands. 

A steaming plate of bacon and waffles is placed in front of them, alongside a bowl of an unfamiliar soup and two sets of utensils. “I, uh, I made you seaweed soup. If you don’t like it, that’s okay. I know you’re very specific about the kinds of seaweed you’ll eat. I only made a small pot.” The small gesture, one of Jihoon’s culture, makes Y/N emotional for some reason. 

They pout softly, leaning over the coffee table to pick up the spoon on the tray. They swirl it around the bowl, taking in the steaming aroma. “Thank you, Jihoon.” They blow softly on the spoon, bringing it to their lips. Jihoon watches intently as they take their first sip. Y/N’s face is hard to read as they swallow the broth. 

“Thoughts?” Jihoon asks simply. 

“I don’t know how I feel about it, right now. It’s a little too early for me to process something new.” Y/N laughs softly, unsure if rejecting the soup completely would be offensive. It wasn’t bad, just new, and it was a little too early for new things to not overwhelm Y/N. 

“That’s okay. I’ll eat it if you don’t want it.” Jihoon leans against Y/N on the couch, arm wrapping around their waist. “Let’s just eat.” The single plate of food was heaping. Most of it would be eaten by Jihoon anyways. Both of them dig in, and once the food is gone, Jihoon takes the tray back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. 

“Go get ready. I’m taking you shopping today, and then I'm thinking we hit up your favourite restaurant and call it a day? I have a cake for delivery later tonight.” Y/N hums, pressing a kiss to Jihoon’s cheek before they head to get ready. Jihoon slips into the bedroom to get changed. 

On the way out of the door, he shoots off a quick text. 

Jihoon [11:58] Leaving now. Soonyoung has the spare key. Wake him up if you need to, this has to be perfect. 

The door clicks open. Y/N steps back into the house, juggling multiple bags. All of the lights in the main foyer are off, which immediately has them on high alert. “Ji? Baby, did you turn the lights off when we left?”

“N-yeah. Don’t you remember?” If there’s one thing Jihoon is bad at, it’s lying. Still, Y/N seems too busy juggling the bags they insisted on carrying as they slip off their shoes. Jihoon sets down his bags at the door, carefully pulling the bags out of Y/N’s hands. “We’ll unpack all of this later okay? Come with me.” Jihoon leads Y/N into the living room, before he flips the light on. 

Twelve men and their partners pop out from behind the massive couch. A collective shout of “Happy birthday!” sounds the entire room. Y/N jumps back, right into Jihoon’s arms. They bury their face into his chest. 

Jihoon laughs softly, rubbing their back. “Sorry for surprising you like this. It was Seungkwan’s idea.” Y/N laughs, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently. 

“It’s okay. I’m just shocked.” Y/N pulls away from Jihoon to go greet the twenty-odd guests inside their house. 

“Y/N! Happy birthday!” Seungkwan pulls them into a warm hug, smile from ear to ear. 

“Why did you do this? I would’ve been more than happy to just spend the day with you if you wanted. You didn’t have to go all out.” Y/N laughs softly, flicking Seungkwan’s forehead. He pouts. 

“You deserve the best. C’mon, we have gifts. And alcohol.” Seungkwan pulls Y/N further into the living room. Jihoon stands with his arms crossed and a fond smile on his face. Soonyoung bumps into his shoulder. 

“You’re so whipped. So incredibly whipped.” Jihoon swears at him, before telling him to fuck off, smile never leaving his face. “God, what have they done to you?” Soonyoung asks, faux shock on his features, but he’s smiling as well. 

“I’m in love, Soonyoung.” Is all Jihoon offers.

When it’s time to get out the cake, Seungkwan carries it carefully, swearing at Seokmin to get away from him so he can focus on not dropping it. Everyone starts singing happy birthday, as Mingyu guides Y/N to sit at the table. They cover their face as all eyes are focused directly on them, sitting reluctantly. Seungkwan places the cake in front of them as the song ends. 

Jihoon wraps his arms around Y/N’s neck loosely. He places a soft kiss to their cheek, before he whispers softly into their ear. “Make a wish, my love.” Y/N giggles softly, hand clamping over his forearm as they lean forward to blow out the candles. They close their eyes, taking a deep breath before they blow out every candle. 

“What’d you wish for?” Soonyoung asks. Y/N shoots a faux glare at him. 

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” He whines softly, going back to his drink. Jihoon kisses the side of Y/N’s face again, and somewhere in the room, Chan makes a gagging sound. 

“I will seriously never get used to him being affectionate with Y/N, ever.” Jihoon picks one of the candles out of the cake to throw at his younger brother. It hits his white shirt, staining it bright blue. He whines, and that makes Y/N laugh. 

Jihoon decides then that Y/N’s laughter is equivalent to light, and that light is Y/N, and maybe that is the secret of the universe. It’s hard to be silent when the whole world is right at your fingertips. 

Cake eaten, drinks consumed, hours spent in the living room and the backyard, Jihoon and Y/N kick their guests out at eleven at night. It takes fifteen minutes for Soonyoung to get into the car, not yet wanting to stop the party. They still see him off, promising to party even harder next time. Jihoon wraps his arm around Y/N as they wave from the steps. The cool breeze of the summer nights sends a chill up Y/N’s spine. 

Jihoon pulls them into the house, locking the door behind him before he leads them to the bedroom. Y/N eagerly lays down, bones sore from socializing all day. 

“Ah, fuck.” Jihoon climbs onto the bed, legs straddling Y/N. He rests his weight on their thighs, caging them down. “I’ve only got forty-five minutes for birthday sex.” He laughs softly, leaning over Y/N to brush their hair out of their face. 

“Then you better get to work, love.” Y/N smiles softly, placing their hand over his. Their face burns as they start to feel their core throb. 

“What’d you want me to do baby? Whatever you want right now, I’m your man.” Jihoon places a soft kiss to their lips. 

“Whatever you feel like doing. I’m not picky, but this is nice. Just kiss me for a bit, but go slow. Want you to go slow.” Y/N’s speech starts to slur softly in the way it always does when they get aroused. Jihoon kisses them again, letting it linger for a second longer than normal. 

“Then I’m gonna take my time with you, ‘n show you how much I love you,” Jihoon rolls his hips down slightly onto Y/N, “Gonna make love to you tonight– fuck.” His words die in his throat as he sees the way Y/N is looking up at him. There's so much trust in their gaze. It makes Jihoon’s heart swell. 

Y/N seems to preen like a cat at the promise of making love. That was something they haven’t really had the chance to do since they started dating, almost four years into a relationship. “Please, Jihoon. Need you.” Y/N whispers, head falling back against the pillows as Jihoon brushes his hand over their neck. Their hands find the edge of his shirt, tugging at it softly. “Need this thing off too.” Jihoon removes his hand from the back of Y/N’s neck to grab his shirt and throw it off. 

He sits back up, weight pinning Y/N’s legs to the bed as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head. Y/N runs a hand over his chest, trailing a single finger down the pit of his abs. Jihoon shivers softly. “One last present for you to unwrap tonight.” He leans back over Y/N, hands sliding under their shirt. “What was that thing you wanted to try? I was thinking maybe we could try it tonight, as a gift.” Jihoon places a soft kiss on Y/N’s forehead, brushing the hair away from the area.

“Edging? You want me to edge you?” Y/N asks, sitting up as best they can with Jihoon’s weight on their legs. Their eyes are wide with slight shock. “You said you probably wouldn’t like it. We really don’t have to, Ji.” Jihoon smiles softly at the concern in their voice.

“If it’s too much or we’re not feeling it we’ll stop. Stoplight system okay?” He places another soft kiss on Y/N’s cheek, fingers threading through their hair.

“Mm, that’s fine.” Y/N sits up slightly to throw their shirt off. “No foreplay tonight. I’m really wet right now and I really need you inside.” Jihoon sighs dramatically. 

“I don’t even get to eat you out?” Y/N laughs softly, hand running over his hair. 

“I promise you can eat me out next time.” Y/N kisses his face, hands moving down to the button on his jeans. “You wanna get on the bed for me? It’ll be easier to do this if I ride you.” Jihoon groans, swearing. He never lasts long when Y/N’s on top. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” He uses his legs to flip both of them over, rolling onto his back. They both take a few seconds to quickly strip out of the remainder of their clothing. 

Jihoon’s cock throbs against his stomach. Y/N grabs it, giving him a few pumps before they straddle his lap. He can feel the heat from their core as they line him up to their entrance. 

Y/N sinks down slowly, exhaling a shallow moan as they clench around Jihoon’s cock. “Oh, fuck. Shit, maybe I should’ve let you eat me out.” Jihoon’s fairing no better, head thrown back against the pillows as his hands grip Y/N’s hips in a vice. 

“Maybe I still could.” He suggests, a breathy laugh falling past his big, pillowy lips. Y/N leans down to kiss him softly. 

“Next time. We’re already here.” Jihoon begins to pant softly, already verging on close as Y/N begins to speed up. “Fuck, I’m already close. The stretch is so… my god.” The small burn at Y/N’s entrance accentuates the pleasure building in their stomach. 

“Yeah, god, you’re so tight like this. Fuck, I think I might die if we do more than two rounds.” And while Jihoon isn’t posing a challenge, Y/N takes it as one. 

“Yeah? Then we’ll do four. Tell me when you're about to cum.” Y/N clenches around Jihoon, and he moans lowly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip tightens. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m right there.” Y/N pulls off Jihoon’s cock, hovering above it with their hands flattened to his chest. Jihoon whines softly, biting his lip to silence the louder sounds that threaten to escape his throat. “Holy shit.” He hisses. 

Y/N begins their ministries again, and it doesn’t take long for Jihoon to whine out that he’s close, before they pull off again. He whimpers softly, causing Y/N to brush the hair from his face in adoration. “‘M so sensitive, baby. Please let me cum.” He begs, and something about his tone has Y/N sitting back on his cock, moving faster, hitting deeper, before they cum around him, hips barely faulting their pace. 

The added lubricant only adds to the experience and Jihoon whines out his plea again, only to be denied once more. Y/N gives him a few seconds, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath. Then they’re right back on him, ass slapping against his thighs, wet squelching noises filling the room and it’s too much, it’s so crude it makes Jihoon’s head hurt (both of them).

“Fuck, please, no more. Can’t– can’t take any more,” Jihoon whines, head falling back into the pillows. “Need to cum, fuck, wanna cum so bad baby. Fuck, I’m gonna–” Y/N pulls themself off his cock, hovering over his tip. He whimpers softly, before it's followed by an exasperated sigh of horny frustration. His grip on the sheets has his knuckles turning white.

“That's the last time, I promise baby.” Y/N carefully holds the side of his face, thumb stroking over his cheek to ground him. “Just breathe for me. C’mon, in and out.” Jihoon does as they say, forcing the promise of his orgasm away from his mind for the time being. 

Once he’s settled back down, he gives a small nod, craning his neck to look back up at Y/N. “Okay,” He exhales deeply, blowing the breath out through his lips, “I think I’m good.” That’s all Y/N needs before they sink back down onto his cock, walls fluttering as they suck him in.

Once again, it’s almost too intense. Jihoon’s teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as he whines softly. “Fuck, Y/N, god.” He pants, hands slipping from the sheets to grip their hips. “Love you so much; wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” He confesses, and while it’s probably the desire to cum, which is all he can think about right now, he’s talkative and his confession doesn’t slip past Y/N.

“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you too, Hoonie.” Y/N leans down to kiss him, their other hand holding his face so delicately it makes Jihoon’s head spin. He gasps softly into the kiss as the angle changes slightly. Y/N feels it too, how he’s reaching a little deeper, tip perfectly kissing their g-spot with every bounce.

“No, like,” Jihoon kisses Y/N again in an attempt to regain his train of thought, “ I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Bought you a ring ‘n everything. Couldn’t– shit– couldn’t find the right time to do it, know you don’t like grand gestures so I didn’t plan anything special, fuck. Just thought I’d ask when the time is right. Marry me, please. Wanna marry you, see you walking down the aisle all dressed up for me. Wanna see you with a pretty ring on your finger, wanna match with you. Wanna take you on a nice honeymoon, maybe take you to Italy with me. Wanna love you and only you for the rest of my life, god, I want that more than anything. ‘M so in love with you, so so in love with you.” Tears had started to gather in his waterline. They slip past his long lashes, down his cheeks to the side of his face. Y/N stops moving, mouth open in slight shock.

Jihoon’s tears hit their fingers which are still delicately holding the sides of his face. “Jihoon?” Y/N’s voice is shaky. “Jihoon.” The second time is more firm when he doesn’t reply. 

“Hm?” He hums, locking eyes with his lover. 

“Did you seriously just propose to me while you’re balls deep inside of me?” The air in their voice makes it hard for Jihoon to hear their question with the blood rushing through his head, but he hears it.

“I… I did.” He laughs softly, head thrown back as a toothy smile spreads across his whole face. “Will you marry me?” He’s more coherent now, thoughts meeting each other halfway to form whole ones. One of his hands slips off of Y/N’s waist, before it’s digging around in the pillows for something. His fingers disappear for a second in the white case of the pillow, before they return with a small red velvet box. 

He flips it open with his thumb. A silver band embedded with small diamonds catches the light, shining into Y/N’s eyes. It’s beautiful, simple enough but clearly an engagement ring. It takes a few seconds for things to register before tears start falling down Y/N’s face as they nod excessively. 

“Yes, oh my god. Jihoon, yes, I’ll marry you.” Y/N’s hands fall from his face slowly. Jihoon grabs their left hand with his one that was positioned on their hips. He takes the ring out of the box, carefully slipping it onto their left ring finger. He kisses the skin of their knuckles, before kissing the ring directly. 

“Perfect fit.” Jihoon whispers. Y/N leans down to kiss him, fingers intertwining with his. The metal of the ring is still cold against Jihoon’s fingers. He moans softly, whether it’s from the way Y/N shifts on his cock, or from the feeling of an engagement ring on his lover's finger is up in the air. “I love you.” He pants softly against Y/N’s lips, before he grabs them with one arm around their waist and flips them onto the bed.

Y/N gasps softly as their back hits the bed, hand threading into Jihoon’s hair. The dark strands are so incredibly soft in between their fingers. Jihoon thrusts in slowly, face falling into the crook of Y/N’s neck. “I’m gonna make love to you now, jus’ like I said I would. Gonna take care of you now, gonna take care of you for the rest of my– the rest of our life.” His thrusts are slow and so incredibly deep. 

His hand never lets go of Y/N’s left one, completely in love with the metal band around their finger. 

Jihoon’s lips find Y/N’s neck. He places small kisses on the base of it, sucking softly, almost in time with each thrust. He won’t last long, and he knows he won’t, especially will all of the edging. But he still feels the need to take care of Y/N, to take as much time as his body will let him have like this. 

Soft whines slip past Y/N’s lips, fist tight in Jihoon’s hair. The pace is too much, so slow and deep, hitting all the right places with each thrust. “Ji, I can’t— fuck, too much.” Y/N gasps, as his tip brushes their sweet spot, lips working diligently to suck a deep bruise into the side of their neck. 

“Fuck, baby, ‘m so close.” Jihoon pants, lips ghosting over the dark bruise. “I’m not gonna last. You feel s’fucking good.” He’s definitely far past the point of being pussy drunk, bordering on inebriated. He pulls out, slamming back in as he loses the last bit of his self control. His pace quickens, but it still maintains the depth of his thrusts. 

He tries to kiss Y/N, but it falls flat when all he does is whine into their mouth. Y/N’s orgasm sweeps over them unexpectedly, walls fluttering around Jihoon’s cock as their release only helps Jihoon slide in deeper. The added lubricant mixes with his pre-cum, and he loses it completely. 

The way Y/N tightens as they ride out their orgasm, small sounds leaving their lips, it’s too much. He kisses them hard, lips moving in time with theirs the best he can manage. And then they clench around him again and it’s over. 

Jihoon cums hard, his vision going completely white as his body feels like it’s on fire. His cock is sensitive as he keeps thrusting, somehow going harder. He can’t seem to stop, not until he’s whimpering and whining, voice pitched nearly an octave higher than normal. His lips stop moving in time with Y/N’s as he just pants and whines into their mouth. 

Jihoon’s arms feel like jelly and he collapses on top of Y/N, still set on moving inside of them. For some reason, his cock will not seem to soften, even though it’s nearly painful. Y/N clenches again, still proceeding their own orgasm, as they pet his hair to try and calm him down. There’s no point in telling him to stop; he’s still hard and he’s still fucking them, though he seems to be slowing down slightly. 

An unexpected second orgasm sweeps over Jihoon, and it renders him completely spent. He stops moving, seems to stop breathing for a second. His cock twitches a few more times inside Y/N before it finally begins to soften. 

And then it’s quiet. Jihoon doesn’t move, or make a sound; all that can be heard is the shallow breaths leaving his mouth. Y/N finally manages to untangle their hand from his, moving it to rub his back in the same way he always does after they’re spent like this. Their other hand stays put in his hair, nails gently massaging his scalp as they wait for any indication that he’s not completely passed out. “You okay, baby?” Y/N whispers softly. The moment is so fragile; Jihoon hardly ever submits like this, and he’s never cum so hard in his life, let alone twice back to back. The feeling of his softening cock inside of them, and the almost inhuman amount of cum inside of Y/N starts to feel a bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t respond, just makes a small noise in acknowledgment. 

“Ji, come back to me. You’re okay.” Finally, he shifts to look up at Y/N, eyes fluttering open. He looks the same way he does after a good nap, tired. “I thought you might’ve blocked out for a second there. Do you need a minute?” Jihoon hums, laughing softly. 

“I think I did black out. Fuck.” Jihoon buries his head in Y/N’s chest, placing a soft kiss to the skin there. “Am I crushing you?” Y/N hums. 

“No, but I need you to pull out, love. I’m sticky.” Jihoon moves at a snail's pace as he carefully pulls out. He whimpers softly, cock incredibly sensitive. It twitches involuntarily as the tip slips out, and then his cum begins to leak out of Y/N’s spent hole. Y/N feels it seep out, shivering at the warmth. 

Jihoon settles his weight back on top of Y/N. He glances at the clock, which reads five minutes to twelve. “Happy birthday, my love. I hope you had a good day today.” He finds Y/N’s left hand, fingers immediately finding the ring. 

“Course, I did. I had a pretty boy and a happy birthday.” Y/N exhales softly in contentment. “I cannot believe you proposed to me during sex. That’s such a you thing to do.” Y/N laughs softly, free hand still rubbing his back. They can’t help but stare at the ring. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, voice slowly fading out with fatigue. 

“You’re a romantic, my love.” Y/N kisses the top of his head, hand trailing up his back to the base of his neck. “Let’s take a bath, okay? You need to relax.” Jihoon nods softly, carefully shifting his weight off Y/N. His cock rubs against their thigh, and he hisses softly. 

“Can you get it ready? I need a minute to regain feeling in my legs.” Jihoon laughs, hiding his face in embarrassment, though it doesn’t hide the tips of his ears which are beet red. 

“Of course, take all the time you need.” Jihoon’s chest swells again, completely enamoured by their patience with him. It never fails to assure him that this was the right person. The only person. His person. 

In the morning, the Seventeen group chat is what wakes Y/N up. Jihoon’s phone won’t stop going off; a product of the photo he sent before he put it on do not disturb. Jihoon stirs softly, arms tightening around Y/N’s waist. “Let them talk, just give me a few more minutes of this.” He murmurs into the back of their neck. 

“I’ll give you all the time in the world, my dear.” Jihoon’s hand finds Y/N’s again, before he presses a soft kiss to their ring finger.

a/n: oh boy. hope that was,,, enjoyable. also if I start an official tag list for fics would anyone join??? sorry that this is late. my bday was a week ago LOLLLL.

[oldwritingm]

Hey guys!! Dipping my toes back into writing!! (See my pinned post for new fandoms!)

I wanted to try something light, and my sibling got me into Scott Pilgrim, so… here we are…

Scott Pilgrim - Holding Hands

Characters: Scott Pilgrim, Wallace Wells, Lucas Lee, Gideon Graves, Lisa Miller

Scott

He always asks before holding hands

At first it’s verbal, but after a while he just starts holding out his hand with wide puppy-dog eyes

He absolutely RADIATES when you comply

He gets this massive grin and keeps glancing at you with hearts in his eyes

To him it’s a way of showing you’re together, plus it’s physical affection, which he loves

He likes to hold hands in public more than in private

He’ll swing your arms merrily while you walk along the sidewalk, maybe even humming a little tune

You will have to ask him to let go of your hand; he gets so lost in his joy that he doesn’t think to let go (even if you try to pull away)

“Uh, Scott? My hand?”

“Hm? Oh, you want it back. Right. Haha.”

At least his hands are always soft (from gamer sweat) and warm

Wallace

Holding hands isn’t a big deal for him

It’s not really a show of affection for him, just something random he does when he feels like it

He’ll just grab yours casually, not caring who sees

He won’t even pause his sentence/task/whatever he’s doing, he just grabs it and carries on

He thinks it’s adorable if you get all flustered

He WILL tease you about it too

“What’s wrong? Aw, are you embarrassed?”

“Shut up…”

“Love you too.”

His hands are sooo soft, with nicely trimmed nails, and they smell like expensive lotion

Which he might share if you ask really nicely…

Lucas

He LOVES holding hands

He acts nonchalant about it in public, but he’s beaming on the inside

He thinks it’s cute :)

He also uses it as a way to show you’re his (both in a “back off” way and a “look at my smoking hot s/o” way)

“Um, hello? They’re literally holding my hand. Back off, pal.”

In private he shows how he feels a little more, with a little smile playing on his lips as he squeezes your hand

Just chilling on the couch while holding hands is one of his favorite things in the world

(Also when in private) he compliments your hands

His hands are a just a little rough, and he keeps his nails trimmed really short

Gideon

Holding hands is mainly a territorial thing for him

He’ll only grab your hand when he knows people are watching

He might also use it to “prove his affection”

In reality he doesn’t really like it at all

And you can definitely guess as much: he’ll sigh when he takes your hand, and the way he holds it… it’s like he’s afraid you’ve got diseases

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Yes..? Why are you whispering? …oh.”

He’ll begrudgingly place a kiss on it anyway

Hand holding is just not your guys’ thing

But his hands are very soft and clean, and he always has a killer manicure

Somehow his cuticles still suck though…

Lisa

She also really likes holding hands

She thinks it’s cute, plus she likes to show you off

So she mainly does it when in public

Her hands always smell like fruity lotion, which she uses often to make them silky smooth :)

She insists you also use the lotion, especially if/when your hands are calloused

When your hand is in hers, it’s just another part of her hand

She’ll continue to use it like you’re not holding her hand

But if you try to pull away, she gets confused

“You don’t want to hold hands anymore??” :(

“Huh? I thought you wanted it back so you could grab the thing…”

“I can grab it while still holding hands!!”

Thank you so much for reading!! I’m still trying to figure out if I want to finish the requests in my inbox… idk, I’m just not very motivated rn :( I’m so sorry guys

(divider by saradika)

[halfbloodprill]

Hiiiii !! I have a req :)) sooo loser virgin bsf Luke x fem reader smut ^^ luke is also horribly in love w her but won’t confess cuz he’s nerdy 😍 but we know he does anyways with the way he acts to us, and how flustered he can get from small things — like if ur shorts ride up a little too much and he can see ur thighs or literally even just when ur knees touch

authors note- omfg. i love this. i hope you don’t mind i took this in a very subby and needy luke way. if u want it written another way submit again and i can redo it for u. this was so fun thank u! sorry for the long wait 😣 enjoy <3

best friend luke who gets so flustered from nothing. he swears he’s good at hiding the rising blushes and his sweaty palms when he’s with you but you see right through his lies. you have always noticed the longer than normal gazes or the way he hangs on every single word you utter. how his face gets so red from the smallest things. it was cute. it was so anxiety ridden and antsy of him. his nervous behavior was just normal in your friendship now. he had gotten bolder though. the way he shamelessly stared at your boobs when you wore those little tank tops that had him hyperventilating. or when your little sleep shorts would ride up and he saw every inch of your soft and plush thighs. and especially when you would stand up and he could see your ass and how it swayed so tantalizing with every step you took. it especially killed him when you two had a movie night and you were pushed against his chest, your boobs practically spilling out of your tank top and it took everything for him to not look directly down at them.

the contact was too much this night. your body was so warm against his. it didn’t help that now he knew how warm you were and he knew he would think of this the next time he was fisting his cock while he was moaning and whining your name. he could already feel his erection growing so he abruptly stood up.

“Uhm- i’m gonna get water. need anything?” he questions before he retreats. “Oh. No i’m okay lukey. make it quick, ‘kay?” you replied sweetly. he internally groans at the nickname you gave him. so sweet and innocent. if only you knew how filthy your best friend was. but of course you knew. you had a plan. he finally came back with a full cup of water. he settled back next to you and he could feel your hand start to slide down on his thigh.

“What- What are you doing?” he questioned in a breathy tone. already affected by your touch. “ I cant touch you? Thought we were friends lukey,” you said with a small pout. your lips were so kissable and your eyes were wide and so doe like. “N-No it’s fine. that’s okay,” he stuttered out. your hand began to travel to his inner thigh. he couldn’t hold back his whimpers anymore. “Can i make you feel good? i know you want this. wanna treat you so well baby,” you ask as you start to slide off of the couch and into your knees in front of him. He starts to whine at how perfect you look in front of him. “Fuck. Yes. please. never done this though,” he admits shyly.

“Aww that’s okay. i’m so glad i’m your first. you’re gonna remember me forever baby,” you say with a smile. you get into your knees and start to lean up at him for a kiss. he’s nervous at first. clearly also new at kissing. your sucking his tongue and prodding into his mouth. your teeth are clashing and he’s letting out the cutest whimpers ever. “Please- Please make me feel good. I’m so horny for you. been horny for you forever. please,” he pleaded with you. his eyes are so watery and his face is so red from how good he feels already. you can’t help but laugh at his state. you stop teasing him and begin to leave a wake of kisses from the base to his tip. his hips are squirming off of the couch and you have to use your hand to push his hips back into the couch while the other hand is rested on his thigh. you begin to engulf his length with your mouth, staring up at him through your lashes. you see him straining to hold back. your mouth is so tight and warm and so foreign to him. he’s never felt this way before. he’s straining and panting. he’s letting out deep breaths. his face is flushed from his effort to not cum yet and there are droplets of sweat evident in his forehead that his hair is sticking to.

“Cant! Cant, Cant. feels so good. your mouth is so good. please don’t stop,” he’s whining with his head thrown back in pleasure. you giggle at his reaction. your tongue is teasing his slit and his eyes go cross at the sheer amount of pleasure. just to tease him, you let your teeth scrape him and he lets out a low groan from the sensation.

“Oh fuck feels so good. So warm for me,” he’s whimpering. he feels so good tears are brimming in his eyes and threatening to spill. you keep sucking and attacking his sensitive slit until his hips are bucking into your mouth and you feel his cum hit the back of your throat.

He’s groaning as he comes down from his high. His body is twitching and is feverish to the touch but you aren’t done yet. You start to straddle him and his tip is at your entrance before he realizes.

“Wait! Please it’ll be too much. Cant take it anymore,” he’s sniffling.

“Yes you can. and you will,” you reply with a devilish smirk. At that, you lower yourself and feel the stretch of his cock. His head is thrown back again and his eyes are crossed, his drool about to spill from the corner of his mouth. He looks so perfectly fucked out.

“Wait- Feels so warm. So tight. You’re so velvety inside, maam. Feels so good,” he says mindlessly before he starts to buck up into your cunt. His hips are moving faster now, chasing his urge to finish. His tip is pounding your cervix. He’s moaning and stuttering at every sensation of you clenching around him. You’re lost too. Your hands are groping your tits, hair wild around your head, and sweat glistening your body. you forcefully grab his jaw and make him kiss you as you sloppily make out with him. there is spit running out of your mouths and onto his chest. it’s sticky and messy between you too.

He pulls back with a moan. “Fu-Fuck. Gonna cum.Please say I can cum. PleasePleasePlease,” he chants while his hips are still vigorously fucking you, not letting up his pace.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me,” and at your words he paints your gummy walls white. But you’re not done. You still need to teeter off that edge. You’re still riding him while he’s lying limp on the couch. He’s trying to regain himself but the overstimulation is too much.

“Stop Stop Stop. too much. too far. Ca-Cant take it. M too sensitive,” he says before you finally crash over, finishing with a a loud moan.

“Good boy.”

[essmeow]

CHAPTER Ⅱ: MITSKI & MONDAYS

prev , next , masterlist

okay so maybe you were already nervous about the first day of your new school.

and maybe listening to your depressing playlist at 7 in the morning wasn't helping that.

but mitski can help calm your nervs to! but with yuji blasting his music in his room right across the hall, it didn't necessarily get the mood right anyways.

"yn, hurry up! we gotta go in like—two minutes!"

"im coming!!"

you reply, grabbing your backpack. you hopped through your messy floor, clothes spattered out from your unpacked suitcase.

you ran down the stairs, seeing yuji sitting on the floor next to the front door and sukuna rummaging through the upper cabinets of the kitchen.

"here, take these for the walk."

you don't have enough time to fully comprehend what your uncle's saying before a protein bar is being flowed full force at your face—though thankfully you throw your hands up and catch it in the air. you throw the second one to yuji, who instantly unwraps it and starts eating it.

"first day—tough shit. todays when you make first impressions on everyone. good luck."

"oh, uhm—thanks?"

you reply, raising a eyebrow at sukuna's comment. he was being nice—maybe? you couldn't really tell. but before you get to decide yuji announces its time to get going so you wave a quick goodbye to your uncle as you walk outside.

"don't worry, its not a long walk—only like ten minutes give or take."

yuji says, taking out an airpod so he could hear. you nod, opening your phone to make sure you have your schedule for the third time today.

yuji was right, after about 15 minutes you arrive at school. you bite the inside of your lip slightly, a nervous habit you picked up over the years.

"so, were still early, me and my friends always come a bit early 'cause we like to hang before classes and—"

yuji starts, but before he finishes his sentence someone comes rushing from behind the two of you.

"yuji, yn! hey!"

you look behind you at the girl waving. she had dyed orange hair, nobara!

"nobara! there you are!"

"sorry, i know we usually walk to school together but i woke up late—anyways, hi yn!"

nobara replys, walking up to stand in the middle of you and yuji. she smiles as she grabs both of your arms—starting to walk into school.

"its so nice to have another girl in the group, y'know. it's just me and maki, and she dosen't really like shopping so she never goes with me. sometimes panda or toge come but like barley ever 'cause their always 'busy'—"

wow, you only really met her yesterday and she was already talking to you like you were close friends. you smiled, at least meeting yuji's friends was off to a good start then.

nobara countined talking untill you three reached the bustling cafeteria, her and yuji seemed to look around for a moment—trying to find their other friends. then yuji's eyes open a little wide and he points to the back of the cafeteria.

"there they are, let's go!"

he says, practically dragging you through the crowds of tables. nobara had already ran ahead, running to go grab a chair and sit down.

once you finnaly approached the table you looked up to five sets of eyes directly on you.

your mouth starts to turn into an awkward smile as you look around the table trying to deicde what to say, but thankfully for you, yuji most of the time knows how you feel.

"everyone, this is yn!"

he grabs your shoulders, presenting you to the group in a way before laughing. he moves his arms to point—starting at the two at the end of the table.

"yn, this is panda and toge! them, maki, and yuta are all a year older then us. but trust me, you can't tell with these two."

he giggles, his joke resulting in the white haired boy giving your brother a small "hey!" and turning to face you.

"you don't look to much like yuji, you should've ate him in the womb honestly."

panda laughs in response to that, an you can't help but laugh aswell.

"ha-ha, sooo funny guys."

yuji responds, rolling his brown eyes. he points to the two in the chairs next to them.

"those two there are yuta and maki! my favoire girlboss and her malewife-"

"shut up yuji."

the girl with the black hair and glasses replies, standing up and slamming her hands on the table annoyed.

she did look oddly familiar though...did you know her from somewhere?

she notices your confused look at her and raises an eyebrow, as if to ask if you have something to say. nobara wasn't kidding when she said she was intimating.

"sorry, you just look awfully familiar—that's all!"

"hm, you went to the boarding school north from here right?"

you nod in response, wondering what she's getting at. maybe you went to school with her?

"you must know mai. she goes there."

oh it clicks into place, shes related to mai. you didn't know mai all that well, but you did know she was mean. they must be twins, hopefully maki isn't anything like her sister.

"don't worry, im not like her—she's an asshole."

you let out a small sigh of relief. thank god. you turn your eyes to the one person who you haven't met yet. he was sitting at the other end of the table, on his phone. nobara was next to him—she was saying something but he didn't seem to be listening. you reconized him from a couple of yuji's instagram posts, but you didn't remember his name. he looked tired and like he didn't want to be there—which made you wonder why he seemed to hang out with them.

"oh yeah, yn—this is megumi! he's in our grade."

nobara says, as yuji sits down on the table next to him. was this the other best friend yuji had mentioned before? he seemed pretty annyoed as he took off his headphones.

"uh, nice to meet you!"

you say, giving him a small smile. he didn't seem all that interested in talking.

"nice to meet you."

"sorry, he totally puts up this whole 'mysterious and nonchalant' vibe around people—he's not even-"

"shut up, yuji."

nobara was in the middle of doing something with her phone as she spoke up.

"here yn, i added you to our group chat. check it after class m'kay?"

you responded with an agreement, as the bell rang for you to head to your class.

BACKGROUND INFO: - nobara, yuji, toge, panda and maki all met in middle school, megumi later moved into town and became friends with yuji—who added him to their friendgroup - yuta moved last year, and he became friends with maki (and then the rest of the group), are him & maki dating? who knows! i don't think they know either LMFAO - there will be more of each character! i just wanted to get quick character intros

A/N: i'll try to have chapter 3 out by this weekend! again sorry if anythings ooc or if my grammer sucks ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

TAGLIST: (ask 2 be added) @1ndee @4ngelfries @jammofsammichflip @notveevee @qtnfer @love-me-satoru @satoryaa @loriisheart @starrnai if the tag dosen't work, change ur settings pls !

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY I. — FOREPLAY/KISSING (LOVE HOTEL)

cw: Fluff, Flirting, Aged-Up / Pro-Hero Time-skip AU, Kissing, Foreplay, Fondling, Teasing, Gender-Neutral Reader. 18+ Only!

author's note: I've never written anything for Shinsou before! I enjoyed trying to figure him out. I'm also glad this kinktober started with something soft and romantic before things start buckling down. A few of these prompts are tailored for my friends, but I hope everyone enjoys!

word count: Approximately 1.6k words.

Yeah, this was a bad idea. 

But whenever your fingers laced through Hitoshi’s after you hastily shoved some money through a tiny slit underneath a frosty window without even a word of thanks to the employee behind it, you couldn’t help but feel the licks of excitement bubble and tickle underneath your throat. Something about the naughtiness and taboo of it all was starting to set in, shivering against the pads of his fingers before shuddering up to your pinched shoulders. A brief glance at Hitoshi has you wondering if he feels the same—those piercing lilac eyes, the lone stars of white in his pupils watching you carefully, lidded, and swirling with emotions unknown. You feel like it’s hard to read him, but the edge of one eyebrow twitches down and his jaw tightens whenever you lock eyes and step into an elevator together. Something wolfish crosses your lips. 

“I’m sooo glad you decided to skip your patrol for me. You really know how to make someone feel special.” 

The words are sugary flowing out of your mouth, but you know exactly what they do to Hitoshi. He shifts a little, sliding the soles of his boots against the floor and sinking down an inch or two. His stare doesn’t leave yours, but you can see his eyes squinch a little more. And underneath the fluorescent beams of the elevator, you swear that something rose flushes across the bridge of his nose. 

“Tch. We can’t take long. I shouldn’t even be here anyway.” 

Elusive and dismissive, but you know that he doesn’t actually feel that way. He could have said no, could have glowered at you, could have simply turned and stalked away—but, buuuut he tagged along with hands in his pockets and not a single word. So now he’s here, hands crossed with yours, and you offer a saucy smile before you tug a little and draw him in. Your fingers are over his neck within an instant, one’s already lost in the meadow of his hair and the other loosely traces the bottom of his jawline. The elevator dings, and your grip on Hitoshi tightens before you begin swaying out. 

“It’ll be fun, promise. No one will even know we’re here, darling boy!” 

Hitoshi cocks an eyebrow, but he lets you rock him gently, a hand on your hip and the other bracing the small of your back. 

“Except for that old couple who stared in horror as we walked in here.” 

You blink with wide eyes, but you quickly flutter them away and instead grin mischievously. 

“That look was only because it was the spiciest thing they’ve seen in a while. I mean, come on, do you think they get freaky still?” 

Hitoshi dips his head a little lower, and cool air fans across your face whenever he breathes out slowly through his nostrils. 

“I don’t want to think about them getting freaky. I’d promptly have to leave, then.” 

The fingers in Hitoshi’s hair tighten a little, like claws flexing and hooking into flesh, and the grin that stretches across your face grinds the back of your teeth. 

“You know I wouldn’t let you do that. My clutches are too powerful—so sensual, so overwhelming, so—” 

“So noisy?” 

Hitoshi cuts you off. The look that slaps across your face is sheer astonishment, but Hitoshi just offers this strange smile before he leans down far enough to steal a chaste kiss from you. Crackles of static and crashing tides spray across the valleys of your lips before it feathers into your face, warmth and heat, and it starts to pool down throughout the rest of you. Whenever Hitoshi draws back a little, there’s something soft etched in his features but it’s so discreet that you almost miss it. A soft chuckle tickles your ears, and the sound makes your face relax before you scoff and shake your head. 

“Noisy? I call it consuming.”

The hall shrinks away while the both of you dance this awkward ebb and curve, and the number of your room seems to glow whenever you find it. One corner of Hitoshi’s mouth quirks up. 

“What a great descriptor. Deafening is better.” 

You laugh a little louder than you intended to, but it proves Hitoshi’s point so you blow a tiny raspberry at him and part far enough away from him to unlock the door. It all fades by so fast, but it doesn’t help that Hitoshi eyes you like something he’s never seen before with that mysterious and distant aura. Those lone stars vibrate slightly, or maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you just smile sweetly and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Something something, it just means I’m the music to your soul~” 

The door closes with a click behind you. You’re positive Hitoshi wants to roll his eyes, but he refrains and instead fixes you with a serious look that makes you a little weak in the knees. With its lack of windows, under the dim light of this room born from a single orange light bulb strung up from the ceiling, Hitoshi seems to glow. He’s so bright and demanding, and you wonder how he ever blends into the crowd, underground and undercover always and forever. Your hands move on their own, wrapping themselves around whatever they can find and drawing him closer to you. A voice barely a whisper hisses from your lips. 

“‘Sides, I’m only being so bothersome because I almost couldn’t control myself whenever I saw you save that kid earlier. Do you know just how much I admire you?” 

Hitoshi’s breath is shaky whenever it leaves him, his hands carefully finding homes on your body while you bring him in further. The heat that starts to flood forth makes you so so dizzy, round and round, and you can feel the cavern underneath your belly start to tighten and ache. Hitoshi falls so easily against you, and he’s just so absolutely beautiful, and you want to lock him in place and kiss him until eternity ends. So you do, your hands shift until you cup his face before you trace both of your thumbs over his bottom lip. They part so easily, and that stoicism begins to melt more and more until he’s nothing but soft snow. Your lips find his, and you start to very gently chew and tug, rolling your jaw in small circles against them. He moans, and it’s not really that quiet, and you feel a spark of insanity that makes you smile happily into the kiss and start dancing him backwards into the room. 

The bed hits the back of your knees, but Hitoshi doesn’t let you escape him as you slowly crumple down onto it. His kisses are still so awkward, so gentle, so unsure, and you always have to lead him. He lets you, and you guide him closer, push him faster, and the sounds of your lips smacking are so loud but they’re so intoxicating. Hitoshi’s hands get a little bolder, though, and he lets one fall down until it traverses your thigh. It pauses down the middle, squeezes, and then lets his pinky trace half nothings. The other rolls around until it’s against your side then your stomach before it pauses, fingers splayed and crooked up. It’s like it knows where it wants to go, but doesn’t go any further—just there, poised, shaking like rippling water. 

Hitoshi’s head tilts further into yours, pushing you back a little, and he murmurs pianissimo notes. 

“I… don’t think you realize, either, how you make me… what I feel when…”

His words get lost in another passionate swallow of your lips, but you hum and let your hands start to slide down his shoulders before they trace the curves and journey the slope of his chest. The bed sinks down further whenever Hitoshi starts moving a little eagerly than he normally would, and it makes your eyes roll back into your head. He’s so cute, he’s so sweet, and you want to just press his back down against the bed and show him what exactly he does to you. Hitoshi’s hands really are trembling, on the verge of tears, so you remove your hands from his chest and let them curtain his wrists. He blinks, lips nothing more than slits, and leans his head back far enough to look into both of your eyes. You chuckle gently before you offer a teasing smirk. 

“It’s okay, really, you can touch me however you want whenever you want.” 

Hitoshi’s face lightens but his expression doesn’t change. His eyebrows furrow and his eyes squint like he wants to cry, but he just breathes out silver and starts to move, but—

“Because I know my clutches are irresistible.” 

A dumb grin plastered across your teeth whenever Hitoshi pauses, but his head falls far enough away so that he can hover before you, so close to you, and you can feel the heat emanating from his breath, his face, his lips, his teeth, his flesh. Whatever nervous and needy look had been there seconds ago flourishes an edge of amusement before he shakes his head loosely and cocks an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m in love with you, isn’t it?” 

A honk of a laugh breeds in the back of your throat before you start to giggle and move forward again to capture his lips back between yours. 

“I don’t know about that. How about you keep kissing me and I’ll see why.” 

Hitoshi’s eyes are like hummingbirds, and that amusement decorating the edges of his expression is washed away by desire and nerves whenever your mouths brush. The words that leave him are final. 

“Yes. Yeah, whatever you wish.” 

And then he’s yours. 

[idkwhatever580]

More than you’ll ever know

[{pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader}]

{prompt- Natasha comes home from a long mission to find y/n curled up in her hoodie.}

(she/her pronouns I might use they/them in the mix as well. Just whatever I write lol)

[|warnings~ cursing probably. Tad bit of angst not a lot but lots of fluff|]

An; I actually hope this turns out good bc idk what to do if y’all hate it. It’s probably gonna be cringey but I live for that anyways sooo hope y’all enjoy!

————————————————————————————————————————

Nobody’s pov?

Natasha walks into her room and sets her duffel bag down on the floor with a sigh. She immediately looks around for her girlfriend and frowns.

“What the fuck?” She mumbles tiredly.

She takes a good look at her room and sees everything a mess. Trash and clothes everywhere. The sheets are a stray and the floor is covered in dirty laundry. Natasha huffs.

All she wanted was to come home from her week long mission to her girlfriend and the least she expected was a clean room.

She quickly realizes that y/n isn’t in their room and she decides to leave the cleaning for later and switches over to the task of finding her beloved.

She steps into the hallway and says “Friday? Where is y/n/n”

“Mrs. Y/n is in the third floor lounge room ma’am.” The ai quickly replies.

She mumbles a quick thank you and starts her trek to find her girlfriend.

Natasha steps in the elevator and Friday already knows where she wants to go so it starts moving. Natasha stretches her aching muscles a bit and the bell dings.

She steps out to find the lounge in a similar state as their room except for there is a mound of blankets on the couch. She smiles knowing that the amount of blankets y/n uses is unreasonable but cute.

She silently walks to y/n’s pile and slowly uncovers her one layer at a time.

Y/n’s Pov

I am sleeping in the lounge and I feel my blankets being torn away from me.

Okay maybe torn is a bit dramatic but hey I am the girl I’ve always been.

I quickly grab the hand that is above my face to stop them from touching me. Although my eyes are closed I grip their wrist tightly and say,

“If you so dare say one word I’ll have Natasha beat your ass when she gets home”

I hear a familiar chuckle and my eyes open widely and I see my girlfriend. I immediately jump over the edge of the couch into her arms and she says,

“Are you gonna make me beat myself up?”

I glare at her as I pull away from the embrace and then I look around and finally realize how bad it’s gotten.

Usually whenever Natasha leaves I can handle myself but sometimes my mental health gets worse and I find myself unable to get out of bed. So that’s where this has gotten me.

I look at Natasha and she has a concerned look on her face and she says,

“Детка, what’s all this?”

I suddenly break and tears start welling up. I feel awful for having her come home to a depressed mess like me. I quickly try to give her an explanation.

“I don’t know! I- I just stopped picking things up and then next thing I know it’s a whole depression room”

I hide myself in her neck and a few tears fall, but she comforts me and says,

“Oh, Детка, you always know you can ask anybody in the compound for help. Don’t just lock yourself up. Come on. Let’s go to our room and get you in a bath.”

I look down and nod my head. Instead of making me walk she carries me like a koala and I hang onto her tightly.

She gets a bath running and helps me in and then I say,

“You’re not getting in with me?”

She smiles and looks down at me and says,

“I’m gonna do something really quickly okay? I’ll be right back just relax.”

I pout but nod my head nevertheless knowing she probably has to go give some paperwork to Nick or something like that.

After about 10 minutes she comes back in and I smile at her.

“You’re such a cutie”

I say to her. She sits down on the toilet next to me and smiles and says,

“I’m the cutie?”

I nod my head and explain further,

“You’re so baby girl. Like. Just cutie pie.”

Natasha chuckles a bit. Oh god. How her laugh makes me blush. Even after two years of dating she never fails to give me butterflies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called cute before… most people would say that I’m quite the opposite.”

I pout at her words and quickly quip,

“Well then, I guess most people don’t know you and that’s literally so tragic because if I never met you I don’t know what I’d do.”

She smiles at me and says,

“Why don’t we get you out and let’s watch some movies?”

I hum and get out. She helps me dry off even though I protest she doesn’t let me do it myself, so I just let her do her own thing.

She gets me my favorite pjs and we go to the room and I freeze.

Everything is gone and cleaned. All the trash. All the clothes. I look to Natasha and say,

“Did you do this?”

She shrugs her shoulders and says,

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”

I roll my eyes and give her a kiss on the cheek. We get into the bed with fresh sheets on them and I immediately cuddle into her side. She goes for the remote and I shake my head and say,

“I just wanna lay here with you. No tv. No nothing. Just us”

She smiles and nods her head and says,

“I like that idea. I love you.”

I smile and kiss her softly. Deliberately avoiding saying ‘I love you’ back to her knowing it’s a pet peeve.

She pouts and I find it so cute and she says,

“Say I love you back.”

I look at her and say,

“Why?”

She fake gasps and says,

“You have to if you love me! Do you not love me?”

I shrug my shoulders and say,

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

She pouts at me using her words against her and she says,

“You’re mean.”

I look at her and decide to be nice again so I say,

“And you’re the smartest, kindest, most loving, cutest, person on this earth. I love you so so much more than you’ll ever know.”

She blushes and smiles at me. I look at her and say,

“I’m sleepy”

Then as if on queue, a big yawn comes out from me, and Natasha giggles a bit. She snuggles closer to me if that’s even possible and says,

“Sleep baby. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow”

I groan when I remember that Natasha and I are training together. I’ve gotten out of training with everyone else this past week knowing they’d never make me do anything since Natasha romanoff is my girlfriend, but she won’t let it slide.

I decide to worry about it tomorrow and just focus on the fact that my baby is home and all is well in the world. Even if it isn’t.

——————————————————————————

An: I hope y’all like it! It’s a bit long but I couldn’t find a good place to finish it. And I wanted to add more lol. Please please please leave some constructive criticism for me lol. I need to work on my writing I’m sure. And feel free to leave requests anywhere :)))

[suugarbabe]

heyy! you're one of my fav angst writers so I was wondering if you could write a mattheo riddle x reader fic where Mattheo enjoys making reader jealous so reader goes out if her way to make mattheo jealous which ends in confessions and perhaps a smutty ending/ fluffy ending? Whatever you see fit! Thank youuuu~

(1) thank you sooo much, if I could I would just write all day long, I'm so glad you like what I put out there

(2) I loooove a jealous Teo 😊; here you go love x

warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 1.9k

18+ MDNI!! be aware of the content you consume, do not read if you are a minor.

“You know if you glare any harder, you might bore a hole through the man,” Pansy’s comment did nothing to stray your eyes away from the scene in front of you. “Yeah, well he deserves it, he’s doing this shit on purpose. It’s like he gets off on making me jealous.” You watched as Mattheo continued to shamelessly flirt with the Hufflepuff girl seated next to him. She was a giggling mess at basically anything he was saying, “He’s not that funny, she’s being obnoxious.” Pansy snorted at your comment, simply shaking her head. It was when Mattheo tucked a loose strand behind her ear that you felt like your brain was short-circuiting. Pansy saw the look on your face, then followed your eyes to Mattheo and the girl, “Oh he’s in for it now isn’t he.” You let out a huff of frustration, closing your textbook and leaving the classroom. 

In your dorm room you were getting ready for the party your house was throwing tonight. Typically you dressed a little more relaxed for parties your house hosts because it’s more homey to you, but tonight you were going full on vixen. You opted for a black mini dress, skin tight and hugging all the right places. You paired it with emerald green heels, a gold necklace adorned with an emerald stone and a gold snake bracelet. You allowed Pansy to do your hair and makeup, making your eyes pop and leaving your hair down your back in bouncing waves, just like you knew your boyfriend liked. 

However, he was barely going to touch you tonight. Not until you allowed him to anyway. This morning he fucked around, tonight he was going to find out. When you and Pansy entered the party it was in full swing. You spotted your group of boys in the back corner, and Merlin if Mattheo didn’t look amazing. But you took a deep breath, centering yourself. No matter how good he looked, you had to stick to your plan. Pansy bounced over to Draco, throwing her arms around him and greeting him with a big kiss to his cheek. It was obvious the boys had been drinking for a while before you both got there simply by the reaction Draco had, which was a big smile and giggle. 

You walked to the group a little slower. When you approached them, Mattheo’s eyes grew wide. You could see him looking you up and down and you did your best to appear unbothered by this. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, you just hummed in return. He met your eyes, “Something wrong, princess?” You put on a big smile, “No, Teo, nothing is wrong. Why did you do something you shouldn’t have?” He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Erm, no..?” Your mouth fell to a tight line, how could he be so oblivious, or was he still playing the game from earlier? You decided it was your turn now, and glanced around your circle of friends for the perfect accomplice. 

Besides your boyfriend, Enzo was your favorite boy in the group. He was always so cheerful, smile plastered on his face regardless of the situation. He was a cute guy, always having his own gaggle of girls following him around, but he never really entertained it. He always seemed more interested in quidditch or parties. When he saw you looking at him his smile grew wider, “Y/n, you look, wow.” You giggled, “Thank you, Enzo, that’s very kind.” If possible his smile grew wider as he took another sip of his drink. Mattheo went to place his hand on your waist possessively, but you pushed him off, instead walking up to Enzo, “You wanna dance with me, Enzo?” Enzo’s eyes flicked to Mattheo but you grabbed hold of Enzo’s jaw, pulling him down to face you, “Please, Enzie, you know Teo never dances with me and I wanna have fun tonight.” You put on your best pout, looking up through your lashes. 

You saw his shoulders slack, indicating that you had convinced him. You bounced on your toes, clapping your hands together. You knew the hem on your dress was riding up as you did so, and you could feel Mattheo’s eyes boring a hole in your back. You grabbed Enzo’s hand that wasn’t holding his drink and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor, ignoring any protests you heard from Mattheo as you passed. He looked over at Pansy, eyebrows nearly to the ceiling. Pansy held her hands up in defense, “Maybe if you’re lonely you can ask that Hufflepuff girl to dance?” Mattheo’s lips slowly turned into a smirk, realizing now the game you were playing at. 

Once near the middle of the dance floor, you turned your back to Enzo, swaying your hips and grinding against him. He free hand held firm to your waist as you snaked an arm up and around his neck. He let your bodies move against each other before enlightening you, “I know what you’re doing, y/n/n.” You turn to face him, wrapping your hands behind his neck, still dancing with your body pressed to his, “You mean just dancing with one of my best guy friends?” Enzo rolled his eyes, “I know you’re using me as a ploy to make Mattheo jealous. Don’t worry though…” He leaned in closer, whispering against your ear, “He’s been a dick on the quidditch pitch all week so I’ll play along. We can give him a little show if you want.” You nodded your head quickly, then Enzo went straight to work. 

As the next song came on Enzo grabbed hold of your waist, fingers dancing just above the curve of your ass. As the beat of the song got stronger, Enzo slotted his leg between yours, guiding you to essentially grind on his thigh. The song was barely a minute in before you felt another arm wrap around your waist and lift you away from your dancing partner. You didn’t even panic, you knew who it was and the way he talked to Enzo had warmth rushing to the pit of your stomach, “I don’t know what the fuck game you’re playing at Lorezno but it’s over.” Enzo held his hands up, “Listen, mate, she asked me to dance. Who am I to tell her no?” Mattheo grumbled some form of ‘fuck you’ back to him as he carried you to the edge of the dance floor and towards the stairs leading up to the dorms. 

“Exactly where are we going? I’m not done dancing, nor drinking. There’s like the whole night left to party,” You were struggling against Matteo’s grip now, which only tightened with your fighting. “Oh, you’re done with the party, princess. You wanted to act like a little slut with my friend, well now I’m going to treat you like a slut.” You gasped as he threw you down on his bed, “Excuse me, sir, but Enzo is my friend too. And I wasn’t acting like a slut…we were just dancing.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, pushing you back on to the bed and crawling over you. He dipped his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin making you gasp, “You don’t dance like that with my friends.” 

He nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, “O-our friend.” You barely got the words out, Mattheo’s hands trailing down your sides and playing with the hem of your dress. “Do you want our friend to be here right now because if you’d rather he help you out,” Mattheo dragged his middle finger up your clothed center, “I’m sure he’d kill to feel how wet he got you.” You tried to buck your hips towards him, tried to gain any friction possible, “N-not for him, all for you T-Teo.” He hummed, trailing his lips up your neck and along your jaw, “F’me, hmm? But you’ve barely been by me all night.” He was toying with you now, thumb drawing circles over your bundle of nerves, not nearly applying the pressure you needed. You shook your head, “Only was thinking of you, wanted, ah, wanted to make you jealous.” 

Mattheo hooks his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down agonizingly slow. You tug at the sides of your dress, allowing it to bunch up around your waist, “You wanting me to do something, love?” Mattheo looks up at you, eyes dancing with deviance. You tangle your fingers in his hair, “Need you, Teo.” He growled lowly at the wine in your tone, “What do you need from me, princess? Use your words.” You tugged at his curls, “Mouth, need your mouth on me.” He toys with you now, laying on his stomach, smoothing his palms up your legs, squeezing the flesh of your thighs before placing a kiss to each one, “Here?” 

You buck your hips toward him, causing him to flatten a palm against your hip, keeping you still. Without warning he flattens his tongue, licking a stripe up your center. You let out a choked gasp, head falling back against the pillow, “Oh, there? Is that what you want, princess?” You open your mouth to respond when he does it again, this time pressing his thumb down on your clit as he does so. “Loss for words now, hmm? But you were talking such a big game earlier.” You want to glare at him, to tell him to fuck off but the way his mouth feels on you is pure bliss.

Your nails scratch on his scalp and the growl he releases sends vibrations straight to your core. He grips your thighs tighter, surely causing bruises but in the moment you can’t get yourself to care. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard as he plunges three fingers knuckle deep into you. Your back arches off the bed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Teo, don’t stop, please.” 

You can feel the smirk on his face as he works his fingers just slightly faster, the knot in the pit of your stomach becoming tighter with each curl, each lick, each twist. Your hips roll against in face, grip tightening in his hair until you’re practically using him, riding his tongue and chasing your high and the feeling gets tighter and tighter and then the rubber band snaps, your mouth drops open and a chorus of praises mixed with his name leave your mouth. And he lets your ride it out on his tongue, on his fingers, but even when you begin to settle he doesn’t stop. He pushes against the sensitive nerves and you feel like you’re going to black out from the pleasure as he demands a second release from you before you can even stop it, not that you would even want to at this point. As you catch your breath you chance a look down at him between your thighs, catch him rub a thumb across his lips, gathering your arousal and sucking it off. You smile at him and he just grins at you, a lovestruck look on his face, “If this is my punishment I’m gonna have to make you jealous more often.” You were teasing, but slightly serious. Mattheo crawls over you, face hovering just above yours now, “Oh darling, I’m just getting started.”

[beestriker015]

Raven x sweet and bubbly male s/o

(This is an AU that takes place during Team STRQ’s time at Beacon.)

Most people know Raven Branwen as a cold and serious person, but much to their shock, there’s one person that she has a soft spot for.

That person….is a fellow Beacon student named s/o.

When she met s/o at initiation, Raven was at first constantly annoyed by his cheerful and upbeat personality, which is very similar to that of her team leader Summer.

“Ugh, as if Summer wasn’t bad enough, now I have too overly joyful nuisances in my life.”

Raven thinks to herself while silently staring at s/o with an annoyed gaze.

Despite being shunned and spoken to rudely on several occasions by Raven, s/o was persistent on befriending her.

“Please Raven! Our teams are going to Vale to hang out and I would really love for you to come too.”

He says to her while the stoic girl exits her dorm room.

“For the last time, I don’t want to waste my time being around you s/o. Now leave me alone.”

She says while rolling her eyes and walking away.

Overtime however, Raven began to respect s/o’s determination and even started to…like him.

“Hey Raven! I probably already know your answer, but would you like to hang out with me?”

Much to his surprise, the black haired girl agrees.

“Sure, I have nothing else to do anyway.”

“Really?! Awesome!”

He smiles widely, which Raven can’t help but find a little…cute?

After that, Raven and s/o slowly began getting close, causing a bit of a personality change that her teammates started to notice.

“Raven’s been acting different lately.”

Summer tells her other two teammates Tai and Qrow, the latter of whom is also Raven’s brother.

“Yeah, she’s a lot nicer.”

“I guess spending time with s/o has been a good influence on my sister.”

Qrow says before taking a drink out of his flask.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to think she might like him more than just a friend.”

“I think so too! I ship it sooo hard!”

“Of course you do Summer.”

Tai deadpans as the three continue talking about Raven and s/o.

Although she has yet to realize it, Raven’s teammates are right about her developing feelings for s/o.

Raven doesn’t catch on to how she feels about her friend until the rest of Team STRQ point out the obvious signs, much to her denial.

“No, s/o is a friend and nothing more. I don’t want to fall in love and I’m not interested in dating.”

She tries convincing herself, though ultimately comes to terms with her feelings thanks to her team.

“Fine, I like s/o a lot, but he probably doesn’t see me that way.”

Luckily, matchmaker Summer Rose is on the case.

After doing some prying, Team STRQ’s leader finds out s/o likes Raven too and proceeds to tell her.

“Raven! Raven! Guess what?! S/o does return your feelings!”

She tells her with barely contained excitement as Raven simply nods.

“Really? That makes things easy for me then.”

The confession s/o got from Raven was short and straight to the point, but he was ecstatic nonetheless.

“I love you too Raven! I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ll ever have!”

He pulls her into a hug, causing an ever so slight smile to make its way onto her face.

As a couple, Raven and s/o have a rather unconventional relationship.

Most if not all affection comes from s/o, not that he minds all that much, but Raven does hold his hand in public, which is something I suppose.

Jealousy is nonexistent because s/o is too positive minded and Raven sees being jealous as completely pointless due to her personality.

(Besides, no girl would dare try making a move on s/o because they’re all afraid of what his girlfriend would do if they did.)

Due to s/o’s overly kind and somewhat gullible nature, several people have tried taking advantage of this to get what they want.

“Hey s/o, I really don’t have time to write that essay. Can you please do it for me, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Umm, w-well…”

Luckily, he has his girlfriend to help him deal with these kind of people.

“No. S/o is not going to do your work for you. Don’t bother him again and go write that essay your own damn self.”

Raven glares at the student as he hurriedly leaves.

“Thanks for that Raven.”

“You need to learn not to be someone else’s doormat s/o. Be assertive and say no.”

“I understand, and I promise to try.”

“Good, because you’d be weak if you didn’t. Remember what I said about being weak s/o?”

“The weak die and the strong survive?”

“Exactly. You are strong aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m strong!”

Raven smiles in satisfaction.

“Good answer.”

True to his word, s/o is surprisingly a very skilled fighter, so he and Raven train together quite often, which she may or may not take too seriously.

“You lost s/o. That’s 10 wins for me and 7 for you.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you kept count.”

He says while getting up off the ground and dusting himself off.

“I never forget when it comes to combat.

“You’re so cool Raven.”

S/o tells her with stars in his eyes, not caring at all that she beat him.

The thought of Raven Branwen blushing sounds like pure fantasy, but s/o somehow manages to make that a reality.

“How’s my pretty bird doing today?”

S/o’s nickname for her makes Raven flustered every time, but only when he calls her that.

(Tai tried once, needless to say his nose is healing up nicely.)

Well into their relationship, Raven starts becoming more affectionate with s/o, but will snap at anyone who points it out.

“I love you pretty bird.

“I love you too s/o.”

She smiles sweetly at her boyfriend as Qrow snickers.

“Never thought I’d see the day when you’d become such a big softie sis.”

“Softie?! I’ll make you regret those words Qrow!”

“Raven no!”

Qrow runs for his life as his livid sister chases after him with her sword that she named Omen, s/o desperately trying to calm her down the entire time.

If s/o ever got serious hurt, Oum help whoever or whatever is responsible, for they will face the hellish fury of a pissed off Raven.

“For hurting my s/o, you deserve nothing but death.”

She says calmly with a terrifying glare before brutally killing the Grimm who attacked her boyfriend.

“Raven, you saved me!”

He hugs her tightly, which she returns.

“We will do some more training one we’re back at Beacon so this doesn’t happen again. I won’t let my boyfriend become weak.

She tells him all tsundere like, but is secretly very concerned about s/o’s safety.

“Ok! I love you pretty bird.”

Raven smiles softly to herself before breaking from the hug.

“I love you too s/o.”

Despite initially being known as uncaring and cold hearted, Raven can’t help but drop this persona from time to time due to strong love she feels for her sweet boyfriend with all her, whom she will always protect no matter what.

[9toji]

May I please get some of THAT 116 Toji please

1 — TOJI FUSHIGURO + PERVERT!

pairing; toji x fem! reader

warnings; toji is a big fat perv, slight nsfw, hints of masturbation, very dirty toji thoughts, toji charms his way into you(r life), a portion of it his imagination (its italicized), panty stealer

rina's comments ; this is sooo.. such a good idea, thank you so much for sending in this!! enjoy <3

imagine toji, a sweet man who lives an apartment away from yours. exceptionally handsome, and may i say rugged. he has the build of a a boxer, always wearing tight black shirts and grey sweatpants, his eyes are always low and droopy whenever he talks to you. but he's a gentleman with charm, right?

he thinks its endearing, the way you don't even know his real intentions. that way, he can help you up whenever you stumble or trip, maybe a little contact with your clothed boobs and an unmistakable squeeze on your hips. toji taunts you too, taking your phone from your hand as you mindlessly scroll through it, “whatcha lookin' at?” he asks slowly, another smirk etching his face as you try to reach it from his grasp. seeing your cleavage was heaven, silently thanking you for your low-cut shirts.

you can't deny the fact his charm although used rarely works wonders on you, making you feel very warm and giggly around him. toji grins at you sleazily, saying that he's accustomed to smiling at people like that and that he's sorry, “might seem weird or creepy” he said. oh, but he doesn't smile like that at other people at all, some might say that you're the only one he smiles at.

your always tired looking neighbor always drops by the laundry inside the apartment building's basement at the same time you do, but he leaves earlier than you. which made you wonder why some of your underwear had been taken from your laundry basket. it's a mystery, who else would've gotten it?

can't be toji, he leaves early and the man is nice, too nice. toji always helps you in one way or another, dropping by your apartment with a handful of essential goodies, like toilet paper, or more tide pods for your laundry. he does it regularly, at early hours of the morning too.

but why? you had just woken up, wearing a spaghetti-strap night gown top and silk shorts. toji got that information when he did it the first time, reminding you about something regarding your plants and watering them. he saw the way you looked so sleepy, but took advantage of the way you were clothed before you wore casual shirts and pants. he loved the way you looked up, grinning sleazily. “good morning” he growled, masking it in a sweet, sweet tone.

eyes unknowingly traveling down to your chest and to your waist, licking his lips and chuckling, “my lips are kinda dry." toji giving you a headpat before you closed the door, and as he walks away to his apartment everyday, he makes sure to engrain your image into his mind for later.

toji gets itchy when you're off at work, wanting to see you as much as possible. that's where his piles of your “lost” panties come in handy. he leans back on to the wall while sitting down on his bed, pushing his shirt up with a shaky hand along with pulling down his greyish sweatpants. his hands grip on to his shaft, along with the piece of fabric that he had snatched away from you. you wouldn't know anyways.

his skillful hands wrap the spot where your cunt touched the fabric onto his dock, pleasuring himself has never been better he thought. it was so perfect, it never fails to make him cum, his right hand squeezing his length as he thought about you, smearing the pre-cum all over so it gets slippery.. “gonna cum on that pretty face of yours, yeah?” he grins, smearing his pre-cum on the fabric so that your panties could swiftly move up n down swiftly.

toji's groans are animalistic, “you.. you look so fuckin' good..” his eyes get teary, imagining you, with your wide eyes and cheery grin. hands wrapped around his cock, maybe he could see your pretty face get smeared with cum, hoping you'd take a fingerful and taste it. “gonna taste it? fuck, you.. whore.. fuckin' know you are." and when he cums, he puts the panties on his tip, cleaning it with it.

“toji.” you babble, hands messily gripping his cock. toji shook, his sweat dripping down his chest.. and his thighs twitched at your touch. “feel so good baby, shit–squeeze it a bit more f'me.” toji sighed, running his hand through his own locks, watching you help him please himself with those skillfull hands of yours.

a shaky sigh and the messy attempt to fix himself came soon after, knowing your arrival will be in an hour or two. he wouldn't want you hearing him groan, at least not yet. toji isn't close enough with you, he needs to be.. so that he can get exactly what he wants without looking like a pervert.

which he is, but for now you didn't need to know that.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Hi! I really love your writings! And thanks for write something for Present mic,he so underrated😢

Since you request are open can i ask an NSFW between fem reader abd hizashi(in their young age,like 19 years old) when they try to have they fisrt time in Hizashi house?

(Hey Anon! No need to thank me haha, I’m always here to make people happy. Anyway I hope you enjoy this and have a great day!)

The Next Level

Hizashi Yamada x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Smut, swearing, and unprotected sex)

It’s been a year since you and Hizashi first met. The both of you were eighteen and met at a club, he came up to you and sparked up a conversation and ever since then you two became inseparable. Although you started developing feelings for Hizashi, romantic feelings, but you decided not to do anything about it because you were afraid that he would only see you as a best friend.

All of that changed when one day Hizashi called you, asking to hang out with him at the same club you met each other at. Of course you instantly agreed and that was one of the greatest decisions you’ve ever made, because that was when he confessed to you and got into a relationship.

....

Today was an eventful day, it was your one year anniversary. The both of you decided to celebrate by going to a karaoke show, walk around and try some street food, and finally head to his house and chill. He drove you to his home, jamming to the radio on blast and talking about all the things you could do whenever you arrived. You were curious to see what his home looked like, but no matter what it looked like you knew it was gonna be so much fun hanging out there.

“Well here we are!” Hizashi says enthusiastically before getting out of the car. Humming a song that’s been stuck in his head.

You got out and got a better look of the house, there was nothing special about it, it just looked like an ordinary home, though there were a couple dead plants by the door. “So, you’re bad at taking care of plants huh?” You teased, already knowing he was gonna have a dramatic reaction to your comment.

“Hey it’s not my fault that they’re so needy. I didn’t even want them here in the first place, they just appeared!” He raises his hands dramatically, causing you to let out a small chuckle. He unlocks the door and heads inside, “Welcome to my humble abode! Make yourself at home, I’m going to get some snacks for the movie. Make sure you choose a good one.”

“No promises!” You joked, heading to the living room, looking around the place. It was a rather cozy feeling and it smelled like your favorite scent. Did he spray stuff before you got here? Or maybe he lit a candle? Whatever he did, the kind gesture made you smile, you’re definitely going to tease him about this later on.

You get settled on the couch, grabbing the remote to choose the movie, picking a romantic comedy one. It looked interesting and had high ratings so what could go wrong?

“I’m here with the snacks!” Hizashi yells, ripping you out of your thoughts. He lays out the assortment of food on the coffee table and plops down next to you, “Sooo whatcha pick?”

“Oh it’s a romantic comedy, it looked cool so I chose it.” You explain, pressing play on the movie.

“Yes! That’s my second favorite genre. My favorite being comedy of course.” He said, giving you a wide smile before turning his attention to the television.

....

Luckily your movie picking skills are still as sharp as ever cause the movie so far is amazing; the plot, characters, and the scenes. There was this one certain scene where the two main characters were getting a little spicy. While watching that scene, you couldn’t help but imagine you and Hizashi doing something like that, the thought made your heart beat faster.

You tried to not think about it, but it’s hard when the wet feeling in between your legs increases. Looking over at Hizashi, he had a blush dusted on his cheeks. Was he thinking about the same thing?

A sudden strong wave of boldness washed over you, scooting closer to him and grabbing his face to look at you, face inches away from his. “How about we do something more exciting?” You say seductively, causing his blush to turn a darker shade of red before smirking.

“Ha I like this side of you.” He said, lips brushing against yours before finally kissing you. Straddling you onto his lap without breaking the kiss, his hands resting on your hips. The kiss lasted for a long few minutes before you pulled away to get some air, staring into each other’s eyes full of love and lust.

“Are you sure about this? Are you ready to take our relationship to the next level?” Hizashi asks, making sure that you were completely ready and comfortable with this.

You softly smile at him, “Yes, I want my first time to be with you.”

Hizashi’s eyes widened a bit, “So it’s your first time too huh? I’m glad I’m not alone in this then hehe.” He smiles back at you, “So are you gonna take this top off or what?”

You feel his hands slowly slip underneath your top, “I guess I am.” You retort, taking off your top and throwing it to the side with a plastered smirk on your face, making Hizashi chuckle.

“Ha you always find a way to make me laugh, I love that about you.” He gushed, slowly kissing your neck and biting it gently. You let out a long sigh when his hand reached underneath your bra, playing with your nipple with his thumb.

He feels your body grind on him desperately, your private hitting his own each time. You felt the tent on his pants grow, “I should take these off hmm?” You say, hands gesturing to your bottoms. He nods his head before pulling you into another kiss, pulling away shortly to let you take off the rest of your clothes while he unzips his pants.

In no time you had all your clothes off, you were way too pent up and excited for what's to come. You crawled back onto his lap, his hand instantly went to grip your waist gentle but still firm. You hovered over his cock angling yourself to settle onto it while he kissed your jawline, holding back a relieved groan.

You grabbed Hizashi’s shoulders while you adjusted to his size, humping slowly on it for some friction. The movement caused both of you to moan. He leans forward kissing you passionately, you wrap your arms around his head to deepen the kiss. You begin to move faster to get even more pleasure, you were needy and he could tell so he thrusted his hips upward in a slow but hard fashion.

The slow, hard thrusts turned fast and rough and ripped loud moans out of you, which were muffled from the deep kiss. Hizashi slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing it while he pulls away to watch your facial expressions contort with pleasure.

He groans as your moans get even louder, signaling that you were closely approaching your orgasm. “F-fuck I’m close” you gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly.

Hizashi's movements became rigid as he got closer to his climax “Damn me too.” He says, visibly trying to hold back from cumming inside you.

“A-ah pleas-e cum inside me, I’m clo-” Your moans ripped through your throat, interrupting what you had to say. Throwing your head back as you cum hard, feeling Hizashi fill you up.

Panting noises fill the room as the both of you recover from the intense orgasm. Resting your head on his shoulder, he wraps his arms around you, “Dang, I didn’t know you had all that in you.” Hizashi says teasingly.

“I have a lot of things in me now.” You retorted, hitting him playfully, he laughed at your reply.

Today couldn’t have gone any better, it was the most perfect anniversary you could’ve asked for. You can’t wait for the next one.

Masterlist

[hirunoka]

"You're My Angel"

for @incidentale (Thank you so much for that ask and the inspiration ❤🌻 )

Words: 1323

(Ao3 link in reblog)

Characters: Simon (Dinner in America 2020), Patty (Dinner in America 2020)

Additional Tags: Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, They love each other so much, and I love THEM so much oh God we NEED a sequel, Also we need more fanfictions wtf, inspired by a song

“You know that I’m no angel, right?” Simon half-teases with an arched brow after she is done singing, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close on the bed.

“You’re a fucking angel, you’re my angel. All mine, mine, mine…” she sweetly sings into his ear this time. He can feel her smile against his ear and fuck him if it doesn’t make his heart race and ache like crazy.

Just like every time.

He decides that he’ll die a happy man if he can feel her smile like this every day.

“I’m no angel,” he insists.

“You are. To me. You saved me. You can’t deny that. No matter what you do and say, you’ll be always my angel,” Patty says as she nuzzles his neck and that’s what breaks him finally because fuck, he was no one's, and I mean no one's favourite person before: let alone an angel.

Sure, he had a few loyal fans maybe: fans who thought he was amazing and cool, but what the fuck did they know? They only knew John Q.  And they sure didn’t think he was an angel. Not that he wanted them to. He knew he was no angel, and he wasn’t aiming for being seen as one by anyone. That wouldn’t be very punk of him, right? Right. Fuck angels, anyway.

Simon is not sure who saved who, actually, so he just lets out a dry chuckle and swallows the lump in his throat as the tears he was holding back gently roll down his cheeks.

It’s a weird and holy feeling; being loved oh so much.

He doesn’t think he has been ever loved like this before; so truly, madly and deeply. Yeah he is quoting Savage Garden okay, sue him. Not even by his parents who were supposed to love him. Because that’s what parents did, he used to think. They would love and accept their kid. Well, apparently that was such bullshit.

Patty, on the other hand, loved him without trying to change him: she accepted him as a whole, loved him as a whole.

Being loved by her was a miracle. She was a miracle in his eyes.

Patty, Patty, Patty…

Kind, funny, sweet, sexy, patient, honest, and just his-kind-of-crazy.

They were living together in their small but cozy apartment for the past seven months and nine days, and yet she never ceased to amaze him every single day.

He buries his nose in her soft hair and sighs.

“I’m sure you would figure something out by yourself to save yourself from that pathetic shit that you used to call ‘life’, eventually. You are punk as fuck and smart as hell, after all. I just… made the process go faster. Diamonds don’t stay hidden all their lives. They can’t. They find a way to shine sooner or later somehow.”

“I don’t remember allowing you to make this about me,” she complains and slightly pulls herself away to look at him. Seeing his tears makes her frown, but she doesn’t mention it or asks if he is okay. She leans her forehead against Simon’s instead, her thump caressing the side of his cheek as he closes his eyes in content. “But hey, at least you didn’t deny that you’re mine.”

“I don’t remember askin' for permission. Everything is about you for me now.”

‘There is no me without you anymore,’ he thinks.

“Is that so?”

“Hell yeah,” he nods. When he opens his eyes, Patty looks at him like he has given her the whole wide world. “You see that streetlight?” He points at the streetlight across the street from their window. “Even that is about you,” he whispers. “It helps me to see you better when you’re sleeping. Big fan of that one, I swear. Beautiful warm yellow. Maybe I should write a song about it later. And of fucking course I’m yours, music girlfriend. Always. Hell, I was yours before you even knew it.”

“Ew, babe, you’re sooo cheesy right now. You’re like, as cheesy as mac and cheese, even.”

That makes Simon laugh. Teach Patty a word and voilà, just watch her start using it all the time.

“I’m just fuckin' with you,” she laughs back. “And I’m yours, too, angel,” she adds as she starts pressing soft kisses on his body: first on his naked chest and then his collarbone, shoulder and jaw.

“This better not become a thing,” feeling his cheek heat a little, he mumbles, his hands wandering up and down her sides.

“What? Me calling you ‘angel’? How about… ‘Punk Angel’ ‘Angel of Punk? But nah, I think I love calling you just ‘angel’ more. Sorry not sorry,” she says with a cocky smile that suits her so much that Simon falls in love with her all over again.

He is utterly captivated by her and her affection.

“Did I ever tell you that your voice is as deep as an abyss that I wouldn’t mind falling into for the rest of my life, angel?”

That sounds like a promise somehow and Simon’s heart suddenly skips a beat. He hopes and wishes it’s a promise because he would give everything for Patty to stay by his side for the rest of his life.

It makes him feel selfish to want her that much even when he has her now, though. He cannot help but feel like one day she will realize she can do better than him and then decide to leave his sorry ass because God knows she deserves better.

Even imagining that makes him feel like dying so he tells his brain to stop thinking such things and focus on the moment they are in instead.

“And you call me cheesy. Oh God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Goddess, you mean, am I right or am I right?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, you adorable and sexy Punk Goddess.”

Satisfied with his answer, she locks their lips together finally. Simon kisses her back like her lips are oxygen and he is a dying astronaut.

“Don’t be surprised if I steal your idea about that The Streetlight song,” Patty lets him know when they pull away eventually. “I think I can pull it off before Saturday and sing it for you at my concert.”

“I have no doubt you could,” holding her close, he yawns and agrees as she lies on his chest.

“Now hush, I gotta watch you sleep while the streetlight accompanies me.”

“Whaa— You creep.”

“What can I say? You’re my inspiration, angel. And don’t act like I don’t catch you watching me sleep nearly every morning.”

“Who? Me? You can prove nothing,” he denies.

“Uh-huh, sure. Sweet dreams.”

“Being with you is like a sweet dream anyway, I need nothing else.”

And with that, he let himself start falling into the warm embrace of sleep. At this point he cannot even remember how he used to sleep alone before he met her.

“He sleeps soundly by her side, without a care,

While she traces his features with a loving stare.

In the quiet of the night, they're alone,

With the streetlight as their silent chaperone,” just when he is about to fall asleep, he vaguely hears Patty singing quietly.

“Sweet streetlight, keep shining bright

As I watch my angel through the night.

Guide him with your gentle light,

In this moment, everything feels right.”

“Wow, you’re fast. That terribly sounds like a gospel for some reason though,” he makes an honest comment, ignoring the way how it made him feel warm inside despite it really sounding like a gospel.

“Shh, I’m just warming up, ignore it. Sleep.”

Simon chuckles and does as he is told after planting a kiss on her forehead and whispering: “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my angel,” is the last thing he hears before falling asleep with a slight smile on his face.

He thinks he can get used to that.