#but a lot of memories and dreams came back to remind me of that

[raspberryspace]

2/28/24 - Onsen resort near Fukushima

[cryptfile]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ holy terrain!!!!!!, [ homelander x supe!reader ]

SUMMARY— based on a request aka when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy John’s comfort after feeling so numb.

WARNINGS — +18 minors dni, implied fem! reader, homelander is a warning himself, usual the boys content, mentions of murder, violence, reader matches homelander’s freak ngl, always wash your hands before fingering #PLEASE, blood kink at it's best, degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, porn without plot sort of?? lmao blame it on my hormones.

SIDE NOTES — hi there, this is a result of me going feral in this new season. English's not my first language, so please be kind, any mistake it's my own fault sorry in advance. Hate this mf but wont deny I wouldn't fuck him to calm him down. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me!

The smell is under your nose.

At first it didn’t bother you to feel the warmth of it, you’re not disgusted by blood. But it’s everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Sticking in your face, staining your damn suit, pooling beneath your feet.

You can feel your own breathing, yet, you're numb to everything else. The screams of terror and the sudden silence of the killing are now something similar as a long-time-ago memory, a distant thought you cannot bring yourself to care about.

And when you came out of the elevator, you don't care about the other people looking at you either. The Vought personal that were always running in the floor, Ashley, or fucking Noir at the matter thinking you're Carrie or something, no one dares to talk to you even when you’re a mere sidekick, too afraid of your explosive personality to even demand to know what happened.

It's almost like you asked for it, to be left alone, to not deal with anyone but your own judgment.

So when you cross the hallway to your dormitory dreaming about a warm shower, you don't expect to see him inside, your relationship with Homelander being too sporadic to even catalog it as one. Yet he's there like it's his house, and you're too tired to even ask why he's there in the first place.

"There you are," he says, but you hear his voice like he's talking miles away from you instead of the couch where he really is. "Something was telling me you were having a rough day."

"Don't remember anything about inviting you to my room" he doesn't care about your tone as he walks closer to you, usually, when he speaks, he only seem to listen to himself. "Didn’t give you a key."

He's oblivious at your words, instead, he seems to be too lost in his own way of seeing things, just waiting for you to say something similar to what you’ve already said in his mind. To admit something like you missed him all day long, that you've been thinking about him as much as he's thinking about you, to fed his ego like only you can do after only a few times of sharing intimacy.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe as he plants himself in front of you, blue eyes scanning your face as his fingers touched your hair, toying with the strands glued together with blood — Even if it’s gross, he don’t seemed moved by it, mainly, you think, because he’s been through the same too.

"Don't need a key to show up," he laughs like it's obvious, and you look at him like he's having a rougher time than you. "This is my building."

It's almost a reminder for you, that you're living under his roof and have a place on his team because he just wants to. Even when you always do the dirty job no one dares to do, if you save his ass more times you can count, he still remarks you’re living in his world.

“I know,” you fight the need to roll your eyes to the back of your head while responding. It’s something you remind yourself sometimes, how most of them are just plain stupid, always treating you like you were no better than fucking Deep.

The stink under your nose is annoying and your skin feels sticky at the touch so you’re almost begging for just ten minutes of privacy.

“I just missed you” he says in a low voice, almost ashamed of admitting something he would never even dare to say out loud, a sudden verge of vulnerability, strange raw honesty as he looks at you. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

You know the only way of really control him, how to make him do exactly what you want to do, so you let him. Let him act all needy and weird cause you want John wrapped around your finger, unable to think on his own. You want him to believe, whole-heartedly, that in the end he’s the one coming up with the great ideas when it's you every single time.

You don’t find it cruel, he’s the same with you and he deserves it, so when Homelander bites his middle finger to grab the fabric of his gloves and pull it off, you let him touch you, treat you like this lost-dove-in-trouble he loves to see — “Had an awful day. Just wanted to see you,” like that. The correct combination of words and he looks like he got fucking shot by a celestial force, mesmerized. “Always missing you, babe.”

He’s sold by the moment, that tone you use, that little nickname that gets him, the sound of your heartbeat slightly faster than before, not enough to catch you lying, but enough to show you’re indeed, happy to see him as well.

He's pleased, so the next is unexpected to say the least, and you hate every second of it when he carries you like you two are married or something similar, sitting in the sofa with you on his lap.

“What are you-”

He shushes you, and you cannot finish what you’re saying when he pulls you to his chest, the fabric of his suit against your cheek as he, weirdly enough, hugged you close, the sound of his heartbeat instead, loud against your ear as you can feel him breathing beneath you, an steady rhythm as the silence filled the room. It's weird sometimes, to think he's human as well before the compound V.

“Comforting you,” he says in a low voice. His bare hand now grabbing your tight enough to bury his fingers in the covered skin, squeezing it lightly as first, nothing you cannot control. And it's beyond doubt what he truly wants, the way his nose inhales the scent of your body like it's fuel, the blood mixing with your fragrance — "M' here now."

He likes it almost more than his own smell. Almost is the key, cause he cannot help but wish you'd stink like him after waking up next to him that very same day. The thought wakes something new in the alleged superhero, something that stings in his stomach, plaguing his mind with the thought of getting all that he wants, to mark you as his property as he has done before.

He cannot get enough. Of course he can't, he's used to have it all now, to never ask but take. That's why he bites your shoulder, why he didn't mind getting his hands dirty with you and your sticky suit, why he's not grossed out by anything, but instead, turned on by how much you needed him.

But in reality it's the other way around, cause Homelander's the one that pulls you closer, that kisses you like you're something heavenly, just like he is. He's not gentle, yet he knows you like it that way, that you're into that rough force he's used to and would kill any normal person in result.

"Who let you go on that mission on your own, huh?" He asks, concentrated in your suit, pulling it down slightly just to reveal the naked skin under the fabric, clean skin in contrast of all the red. "Seems like they all forgot we're supposed to work together."

You don't get why it feels so nice at first, why the hand on your hip moves through your body like you need some kind of reassurance after all you went through the day.

"I'm okay" you manage to say, the pure need to remind him you're good enough to make things on your own, some kind of memo that explains clearly that you want the same benefits he has. It's useless however, when he has you like that, making you tilt your head to the side, placing random bites in any sight of exposed flesh.

"You're hurt" he says, making you aware of your own body as he presses one hand against the injury on the side of your ribs. He's fucking sick for it, and it doesn't give you any time to react when his fingertips are pushing against the cut, your suit staining with your own blood as you mewl on top of him. "Clearly hurt."

He's drunk on depravity, lost on the face you make when the pain hits you all sudden, stealing the air from your lungs. He's suddenly hard beneath you and his hand's now rest on your hip making you move on top of him, hungry for anything he can get out of you, any little sound you make so focused on keeping quiet, trying so hard to not to fed on his bullshit.

The friction is unbearable, the fresh blood coming out of your now-opened wound, the slight force he uses to tear your suit apart like its nothing, giving him more space to work with as he seemed desperate to have you close. It takes you far from where you were first, the numb feeling that grew like a parasite your stomach swallowing it all, now instead, too sensitive to his touch.

Yes. You hate him for it, hate that it's too easy for him, the traumatized hero with too many issues, the world's strongest man that somehow manages to make a mess out of you just with something so simple as sitting on his lap.

He's so pleased when you moan, when you say his name and you forgot about mannerisms, he needs to pull out his other glove in response as his blonde hair falls over his face, throwing it to the floor as his bare hand is now able to rip apart your suit effortless. The warmth of his palm cups your now bare breast for him, and he leans into your chest, tongue flickering in circles over your nipple as you let out a strangled moan.

"Common, need you to use your words here," he demands for a moment, almost annoyed as you can see the traces of saliva that connected you to his mouth: Why does he look so good? Fucker. "Cause if you don’t stop me now I’ll reduce your suit to ashes.”

“Don’t care,” you know Ashley’s going to be pissed, yet it's not enough to say anything about it. "Fucking hate the suit anyway."

"Such a dirty mouth" you're tugging his hair, hand on your kneecap pulling it slightly to the side as he forces you to open your legs for him. "What can I do with you?"

There it is, the ripped sound of his hands tearing the rest of the fabric apart, the pliable desperation in his touch, grabbing, kissing, and palming the curves of your body as it's holy terrain, unstudied land. He's caught in the smell of your skin finally mixing with his, the way your hips grinded in need for a deeper contact.

He laughs at you, laughs at that sight of defeat when he finally slides the hand that was on your knee under the ripped leavings of your now-destroyed suit. Of course he fucking loves the way you're speechless all thanks to his efforts, that you're unable to keep still as you straddle him now confident he's not repulsed by your dirty nature.

"Did you get turned on by killing?" He asks, and you try to respond something like he's clearly dumb. "Been smelling you since you've got here. All wet, covered in blood."

He's far from lazering you, but you can feel the weight of his gaze almost trespassing you when his hand finally reaches that nice spot between your legs and feels your drenched underwear beneath his fingertips. He can feel it all, and you are aware of it.

He's driven by the sounds of your heartbeat, the way your skin glimmers with sweat, he knows you're enjoying every second of it, his fingertips fondling on top of the cloth moments before pulling it to side. The warm contact with your cunt is enough to make him lose it, enough to make him succumb beneath you as he explores the folds of your aching core, his other hand holding your hip just to keep you in place.

John seems to forget, always does. Cause his grip turns beyond bruising and you can hear the crack when he moves you against his hand, a new broken bone to added to the list as he's unaware to the sound it produces, the pain that makes you shake violently blending immediately with pleasure.

You can take it. You're tough and a big girl who's taken worse, so you don't whine about it knowing you must be healing already, instead, you let yourself be trapped in that haze he created, the sounds of your sex when he hits that very spot you overly-enjoy, digits slightly curving inside as he’s experiencing the velvety feeling of your walls colliding against his hand.

"That's it, keep the show for me.” He loves praising so much since you told him he’s doing good one time, he needs to do the same for you at the first chance he got while you offered yourself to him, riding his fingers. “Such a good slut.”

He’s concentrated in the way his fingers disappear inside of you, the intense smell of blood and sex that now fills the air as you moan out his name, the red droplets in your face much like freckles, far more wicked than pure marks on your skin.

“So nice, so warm,” he says to himself, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your chest as he marks your skin like you’re all his.

He’s sure he’s alleviating your problems, sure he’s making you feel so much better, thumb tracing circles in your swollen bud as he stole cries of pleasure from your parted lips.

You don’t let him know you’re close but he can sense it, the slight change in your breathing each time more erratic, your heartbeats quickening their pace as you got closer to the edge.

And when you really finish, when you’re done riding your high, you grab the remains of your teared suit and look at him with that damn smile he loves. You know he’s expecting to receive anything back, any favor you’re willing to give in return.

But instead, when you got off his lap, you just caress his cheek gently before saying — “See you later, John? Kind of busy now.”

my masterlist

[moonlinos]

It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field. 

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again. 

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head. 

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI

Summary: Fleeing the wreckage of your heartbreak, you land in the chaos of Zaun, pouring drinks at a dingy bar. You're still facing unresolved feelings and emotions towards Ellie, but they’re easier to bury when Vi storms into your life—a whirlwind of sharp words and reckless energy. You start off bad, really bad but it's enough for you to think of something else for a bit.

warnings/themes : angst, heartbreak, lots of trauma, kind of enemies to lovers, unresolved feelings, a bit of violence, eventual smut, au

word count : 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at it again, falling just where you started , completely alone , full of sorrow and regrets. Moving away to a completely unknown place was the best escape plan - literally. You knew nothing about this city, save for a few stories your best friend had told you. Yet, even the thought of staying in the same place as her couldn’t outweigh your choice - you'd rather wander off Zaun's shadowed streets, losing yourself for a lifetime than remain bound to the familiar.

City was close to what you have imagined. The fractures that happened few years ago helped to a great extent , after decades of suffering, the city had finally exhaled, though it had not lost its soul. Cleansed of its grime, its fumes, and its shadowed figures, the streets and the people remained exactly as your friend had described them—a perfect echo of her tales.

Finding a job wasn't hard , from now on you'd serve drinks in one of the city’s dim, suspiciously isolated bars—barely more than a shadow in the corner of a forgotten street. Pay wasn't good but it was enough for an apartment and food, nothing else mattered to you. You were trying your best to take as many shifts as you could, working whole night helped you not think about her , during daytime you would typically crash out , exhausted from your job. And yet, she always found a way to reappear.

At the bar, you distracted yourself by watching customers. Most of them came for a drink and a chance to ease their burdens, but for you, the real game was observing them—piecing together their stories from a glance, a gesture, a half-heard conversation. Sometimes , thought of her would reappear . Something would remind you of her scent, her voice, slipping into your mind without warning. But you had mastered the art of distraction, shifting your focus before the memories could take root.

It was in your dreams where she would visit most frequently, escape from her was almost impossible, as though she determined to remind you of what you wanted to forget: that no change of address, no new life, could erase her. She was etched into you, inescapably, a part of you as much as your own breath. But you had to move on , that's what you were best at, carrying pain and suffering throughout your life, god knows you've been doing that since the day you were born.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Can we talk?” she asked, her tone calm but firm, as she stepped closer to you.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Ellie,” you whispered, bracing yourself for the inevitable fallout. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.” The words spilled out in a shaky breath.

Her green eyes searched yours, unreadable but sharp. “Why is that?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost careful.

“You already know why,” you said, your gaze flickering over her face—her furrowed brow, the tightness in her jaw. Anxiety clawed at your chest, every emotion colliding at once: fear, anger, love, and a desire that burned despite everything. Losing her wasn’t an option, not like this.

“That’s the problem,” she said, stepping even closer, her boots scraping softly against the floor. “I don’t know why. You told me how you felt and then ran off, didn’t even wait for my answer.” Her voice broke slightly, frustration seeping through, though she was clearly trying to hold it together—for your sake. “That’s not fair.”

“I couldn’t take it anym—” you began, but your trembling words cut short as Ellie moved.

Her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm and steady against your skin. “I need you,” she whispered, her voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “More than you could ever need me.”

“Nothing’s going to change that,” she said, her voice unwavering now, as if it was the most certain truth in the world.

* * * * * * * * *

Once again, your own screams tore you from sleep, Ellie had found her way into your dreams.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, the echo of her voice lingered in your ears. You glanced at the clock hanging crookedly on the wall and exhaled in relief—it was almost time for another shift.

You moved through your routine on autopilot: a quick shower, clothes and out the door. The walk to the bar felt like a blur, your thoughts still tangled with fragments of the dream you couldn’t shake.

“Hey there,” you greeted Revek, arguably only person who could be considered as your friend in Zaun , as you stepped behind the counter.

He glanced at you with that signature smirk of his, tossing his apron onto the counter. “Well, well, look who decided to show up. Twenty minutes late, no less.” Leaning against the bar, he crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Alright, what is it this time? Lost your keys? Got cornered by some hooligans? Or let me guess—lost track of time again?” His smirk widened as he tapped the counter, signaling for his usual drink.

“Cut me some slack, you asshole,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like they’re paying me enough to show up on time.” You reached for the shaker, pouring his drink without missing a beat. “I just… had a bad dream, alright?”

The smirk faded slightly as he took the cup from your hand, his gaze softening. “Not again,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. He took a long sip before adding, “You know, if you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said quickly, brushing him off with a weak smile. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Now scooch—you’re scaring off my customers.”

Revek gave you a knowing look, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he pushed himself off the barstool, raising the cup in a mock toast. “Fine, fine. Just don’t forget—I’ve got a hell of a good ear for this kind of thing.”

You watched him walk away, trying to shove down the unease crawling up your spine. Fixing your hair in the reflection of a glass, you turned to face the empty bar. The night was long, but at least behind the counter, you could pretend your mind wasn’t a battlefield.

The day had been dragging. The bar was dead slow, with only a few regulars stopping by for a drink and a bit of small talk. You made an effort to keep busy—wiping down the already spotless counter, rearranging bottles, polishing glasses—anything to make the hours pass. Not until she walked in. The air shifted instantly, the tension almost suffocating as the door swung shut behind her. You froze, your hand mid-reach for a glass, and looked up. You’d seen countless faces walk through those doors. From the desperate to the careless, from the downtrodden to the troublemakers, the bar had welcomed them all. Nobody ever stood out—nobody cared about anyone else here. That’s what you liked about this place. People came in, had their drinks, exchanged a few words, maybe played a game or two, and left as if they’d never existed to one another. But her? She shattered that silence like glass. You didn’t know who she was, but everyone else seemed to. Heads turned, conversations halted, and even the usual clamor of the old jukebox seemed to dull in her presence. She strode toward the bar, brushing off the stares that trailed her like shadows. It was obvious she didn’t give a single fuck about anyone in the room. Whatever power she held over the crowd, she didn’t seem interested in wielding it—at least, not tonight. Stopping at the counter, she gave the drinks menu the briefest glance before tapping the laminated surface with her finger.

"Can I have this?” she muttered, her voice low and uninterested, pointing to a drink. Then, without looking at you, she added, “Make it a double.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, watching her as you reached for the bottle. She didn’t meet your gaze, didn’t acknowledge you at all, but that only gave you the chance to study her features: pink hair cut into a sharp mullet, light blue eyes that didn’t seem to care about much, and freckles scattered across her nose like they’d been painted there.

“Here you go,” you said, sliding the drink toward her. She grabbed it without a word, her attention flickering to the room around her. Even now, she seemed utterly uninterested in you—or anyone else, for that matter. She didn’t sip the drink so much as down it, her throat working as the liquid disappeared almost too quickly. You found yourself leaning slightly forward, unable to look away. There was something about her, something impossible to read. You liked puzzles, and she was the hardest one you’d come across in a long time.

Who was she? Some kind of criminal? Or maybe she was the exact opposite? Why was she here? Trying to get drunk, or waiting for someone? Before you could settle on an answer, she tapped the counter sharply, her empty glass sitting in front of her. The message was clear. Another. You poured the drink without hesitation, the silence between you stretching long and tense. As you set the glass down, she didn’t so much as glance your way.

“You’re welcome,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm, hoping to at least provoke some kind of reaction.

It worked—but not the way you’d hoped. She turned her head, finally looking at you, and you almost wished she hadn’t. Her glare was sharp, cutting, and filled with barely-contained anger.

“Just do your job,” she said coldly, her voice low and cutting. “I didn’t come here for chitchat.”

She turned back to her drink, dismissing you entirely, but the tension she left behind lingered in the air, coiling around you like smoke. Whatever game you thought you were playing, she wasn’t interested.

“What an asshole,” you thought bitterly, dragging your gaze away from her and down to the bar. The question lingered in your mind—should you say something? Not because you couldn’t stand up for yourself, but because, you weren’t sure if she was even worth it.

She tossed back another drink, her sharp eyes cutting across the room as she motioned lazily for someone to come over.

“Again,” she muttered, her gaze flicking back to you. For a fleeting second, it softened—just barely. But the moment was gone as fast as it came, replaced by her usual aloofness when a tall man approached her with an appearance that screamed trouble. You busied yourself making another drink, ears pricked to catch their conversation.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here, Vi,” the man greeted her, his tone carrying an edge of wary excitement.

She chuckled dryly, grabbing her fresh glass without even looking at him.

“What are you playing over there?” she asked, dismissive, like she hadn’t even heard him.

He hesitated, glancing at his buddies like he was searching for backup. It was obvious he didn’t want her involved, but too afraid to say no.

“Just some boring cards,” he replied with a strained grin. “You’re, uh, welcome to join.”

“I’ll be right there.” Her words were ice-cold as she turned back to you. “Another one.”

You stared at her silently, letting your expression say everything your words didn’t. She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

But instead of acknowledging it, she took the drink you handed her and headed over to the table of men, sliding into a seat among the kind who spent their nights gambling away the last shreds of their dignity. Vi. That was her name. At least you had that much now. But she was still a puzzle—a unsolvable one. You watched her, lost in your thoughts, until Revek appeared from the back of the bar, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on her.

“Haven’t seen her in a while,” he muttered, settling onto a stool.

“Who even is she?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Revek leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Remember I told you abour shit that went down three years ago? Piltover, Zaun, all that Hextech chaos?”

You nodded.

“She was part of it. A big part.”

You squinted, piecing it together. “That explains why everyone knows her down here.” You frowned, the anger bubbling back up. “She’s an asshole.”

Revek chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you could say that. After everything went to hell, she holed up in some dump around here. Doesn’t talk to anyone. Just drifts between bars, sometimes… worse places, drowning herself in cheap booze.”

“Was she always like this?” you pressed, desperate to understand.

“That’s a long story,” Revek began, but his words were cut off by the sharp sound of glass shattering across the room.

Your head snapped toward the noise. Of course, it was her, standing over some poor bastard, yelling and swearing. Revek shot you a look and stood, ready to step in, but you stopped him with a firm hand.

“I’ll handle it,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“You sure?” he asked, hesitation in his voice.

You nodded, already moving toward the chaos. By the time you got there, she was on top of the guy, fists flying with a fury that could have leveled buildings. The crowd around them was frozen, too shocked—or maybe too entertained—to intervene.

“Hey!” you shouted, but she didn’t even flinch.

“Stop it! Now!” you tried again.

Still nothing. She was too far gone, lost in her rage. Without thinking, you moved in to pull her off—but before you could, pain exploded across your face, and you found yourself on the ground, disoriented.

The room went silent.

When your vision cleared, you realized, she had hit you.

Vi stood over you, her expression flickering with something almost like regret. “Shit,” she muttered, reaching a hand toward you. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Get the fuck out,” you snapped, cutting her off as you staggered to your feet.

She hesitated, her gaze locking with yours. You made sure she saw every ounce of your anger, your disgust.

“Now,” you commanded, stepping closer.

For once, she didn’t fight back. She just turned and walked.

Days passed, and thankfully, she didn’t come back. Still, every time you stood behind the bar, her face crept into your mind—her cockiny, her sharp eyes, her unbearable attitude. It filled you with rage. You already had too much on your plate; the last thing you needed was to waste energy hating some pink-haired asshole. But despite yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. It wasn’t all bad, you supposed. At least thoughts of her kept you from thinking about Ellie. But replacing heartbreak with anger wasn’t exactly a healthy trade.

It was another calm day, the kind you’d come to appreciate in the wake of the chaos she’d brought. If anything, her outburst had earned you some respect. The regulars gave you a nod, a look, as if standing up to her had proven something. But the peace didn’t last. The bar doors swung open, and the room fell into an all-too-familiar hush. You didn’t even need to look to know who it was. The tension in the air told you everything.

Vi.

Revek appeared at your side almost immediately, his eyes darting toward her. “This gonna be trouble?” he asked, his voice low.

“I’m fine,” you replied, keeping your gaze locked on her as she strode toward you. There was something deliberate in her steps, something… different.

Her eyes met yours from across the room, and you stood your ground.

“I think I made myself clear last time,” you said coolly, though your voice carried that simmering edge of anger you couldn’t quite hide. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I know,” she replied, stopping in front of the bar. Her tone was calm, almost subdued. “I’ll leave. But first, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes, studying her. There was no cocky smirk, no sarcastic retort. Just… awkwardness.

“I was drunk,” she continued, her voice low. “That guy said something—something that pissed me off. I lost control.” She hesitated, her eyes searching yours. “It’s not an excuse, but… I didn’t mean to hit you. I would never—”

“But you did,” you cut her off sharply, though you could already feel the fight draining out of you. She was being honest. You hated that you could tell, but you could.

“I know.” Her voice softened even more. “I didn’t see you. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

You exhaled, your shoulders dropping slightly as you leaned against the counter. You weren’t ready to forgive her—not entirely. But you were exhausted from carrying so much anger.

“Fine,” you said at last, pouring her the drink she’d ordered last time. Sliding it across the bar, you added, “I appreciate your honesty. I don’t appreciate assholes, though. And you? You were an asshole.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her face as she accepted the drink. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something else. But instead, she downed it in one quick motion, set the glass back on the counter, and walked out without another word.

She started coming back. At first, you thought it was a fluke—a one-time thing. But no. A few days later, she was there again. And again.

Sometimes she was alone, sometimes with a new girl on her arm, but the pattern stayed the same. She’d order a few drinks, stay for a while, and leave without so much as a word in your direction. She’d read your message loud and clear. But what you couldn’t figure out was why. Zaun was filled with bars—plenty of them even filthier than this one. So why keep coming back to this one? Was it defiance? Did she just not care about the fact that you didn’t want her here? Then there were the moments that left you even more confused. The way her gaze would linger,as she was hanging out with some random girl, her eyes flicking over to you when she thought you weren’t looking. It wasn’t often, but it was enough to notice. Enough to keep her lodged firmly in your thoughts.

Vi was a mystery. An infuriating, captivating mystery. And for some reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting to figure her out. Maybe it was the distraction she provided, pulling you away from the ache of Ellie. Or maybe it was something else. Something about the way she carried herself, the way she owned a room even when she was silent. Whatever it was, she had you hooked—and you hated her for it.

Today was no different. She strolled in like she owned the place, another girl trailing behind her—a new one this time. She made a beeline for the bar and ordered a round of drinks before sliding into a table suspiciously close to where you were working. Maybe you were imagining things, but it felt deliberate. There were plenty of empty tables scattered throughout the room, especially ones better suited for whatever this was supposed to be. An intimate date? That hardly seemed like Vi’s style. The girl with her seemed sweet. Blonde hair with blue highlights that caught the dim lights of the bar, bright eyes, a soft smile. She leaned toward Vi as they talked, her body language screaming interest. But Vi? She sat back, arms draped casually over the chair, her expression distant, detached. It was like she craved the closeness but couldn’t bring herself to let anyone in.

It was… familiar. Too familiar.

You turned back to the counter, your hands working on autopilot as you wiped down the surface. Yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore her, your gaze kept drifting in her direction. And every time it did, you caught her watching you.

You didn’t like it.

Pouring yourself a drink, you told yourself it was just to take the edge off. One drink turned into two, and before long, the alcohol made everything sharper, more noticeable. You were too aware of her—every glance, every quiet laugh, every time her eyes flicked toward you. When it happened again, you decided enough was enough. You locked eyes with her, letting your gaze trail over her features, daring her to look away. She didn’t. At first, she looked confused, but that quickly morphed into something smug—a slow, cocky smirk creeping across her face. She leaned over, whispering something in the blonde’s ear. The girl nodded, and just like that, Vi stood and headed straight for you.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice calm but carrying that familiar edge of arrogance. Her eyes bore into yours, steady, confident.

“Well, look at you,” you quipped, leaning casually against the bar. “Turns out you can talk.”

She smirked. “Can you blame me? You called me an asshole and made it pretty clear you didn’t want me to talk to you.”

“Both of those things are true,” you replied with a dismissive shrug, though the faint trace of a grin played on your lips. You blamed the alcohol.

“So let me get this straight,” she teased. “You don’t want to talk to me, but you want me to talk to you? Maybe even acknowledge you?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed you acknowledging me,” you shot back, your tone dry. “Not with words, though.” Your hand idly wiped at the counter with a cloth, pretending nonchalance.

Vi chuckled, brushing off your jab. “Fair enough. Since you’re so insistent, let me drop the ‘asshole behavior’ for a minute.” She leaned in slightly. “I don’t even know your name.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to meet her halfway. “It’s Y/N,” you said, your voice firm. A beat of silence lingered between you, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, with a small smirk of your own, you added, “Now get back to your date. Don’t keep her waiting.”

You didn’t wait to see her reaction. The sudden surge of emotions made your chest tighten, and you dropped the cloth and glass onto the counter, heading for the backroom.

Intimacy—it wasn’t something you wanted. Not now. Not with her. Even the smallest brush of warmth from someone else felt like an open wound. You were comfortable in the cold, with the pain. Examining Vi had been easy, safe. She was uncertainty and sharp edges, not softness. You closed the door behind you, leaning back against it and exhaling deeply. Maybe one of these days you’d figure out what Vi was really doing to you. But not tonight. Not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note from author: It's my first time writing something ever please please please let me know if you liked that! I think that this fic will have 6/8 parts , so there's a lot unfold here. I kinda changed finale of Arcane, because Vi and Caitlyn don't end up together. Also, I have included Ellie as reader's ex girlfriend, so she will have more appearances in future. It would mean world to me if you shared my work (if you liked it of course) and please don't hesitate to message me, ask me questions about it or let me know what are your thoughts! Thank you!

[sirfrogsworth]

Meeting my longtime artist and good friend, Chris, IN REAL LIFE!

So, I hadn't been to a restaurant in over a decade. I can't even remember which restaurant since it was so long ago. But in the past few weeks I've now been to TWO restaurants.

I am becoming a social butterfly. 

And it is exhausting.

But also good.

First I reconnected with my high school best friend, John.

And that went great.

But then the opportunity to see my friend Chris (a.k.a @whosthewhatnow ) came up only a few days later. And this close proximity of social events scared me a bit, but I have been feeling much better since they figured out my heart thing, so I decided to try and do both things even though they were only a few days apart. 

The key to this was strategic resting. As soon as I got home from seeing John, I got in bed and I didn't get out of it until it was time to see Chris. And that was just enough recovery time to pull this off. Typically a short outing requires 2-3 days of rest after. 

I had never met Chris in real life. He has done nearly all of the artwork for my website and comics over the past decade. And he was a main character in my CRAPPRnauts series.

We know each other so well and it is crazy that we've never seen each other with our very own eyeballs.

He is such an amazing artist. He works fast and he adds so many cool extra details that you can stare at his comic panels multiple times and catch a new joke or easter egg each time. He is a dream to work with and my Corg Life series was only successful because he did such a wonderful job bringing Otis to life in comic form. 

So we decided to meet up at a restaurant with his friend Michael and then I was going to take a nice portrait of him after dinner. Chris had never had a professional photo taken of himself and I decided to fix that.

I told him I had a mobile photography setup. Which, in reality, is a trunk full of lights and stands and other various camera gear that I definitely won't need, but bring anyway. It's "mobile" in that it all fits in my car if you are good at Tetris (which I am).

The restaurant was downtown and I had visions of St. Louis's famous Gateway Arch in the background of Chris's portrait. I thought that would be such a cool shot. I could see it in my head and I even dreamed about it.

So I got in my car and headed downtown and my GPS told me to exit at 249B. But I kept looking and I couldn't see the sign for 249B.

This is how much road I had left when I finally was able to see the exit for 249B.

So I ended up taking 249A and going straight to East St. Louis.

Which, if you believe the headlines, is not a place you ever want to be.

Google Maps and I have been having issues lately. They also tried to get me to take the spooky way home that night, but thankfully I actually knew the non-spooky way back from when I used to go to Cardinal games with my parents as a kid.

My short term memory was trashed by shock therapy. And so was a lot of my long term memory. But it finally came through in a pinch and remembered something useful.

I only had to loop around and cross a bridge so I didn't really do anything but touch the edge of East St. Louis. I was mostly concerned about being late for dinner more than its scary reputation. Usually those news stories about a place being "dangerous" are actually just racist and hurtful to people stuck in poverty. I mean, technically my house is in a "dangerous" neighborhood, and we do have trouble with petty crime in some spots, but aside from a few dinged-up mailboxes, I've never felt unsafe in my home.

On the way back to regular St. Louis I could see the Arch on the horizon at sunset and it was kind of magical. And I wasn't able to get a good shot of it, but it sure looked pretty from my point of view. 

My photos kind of remind me of the beginning of movies like Training Day where they are trying to show you gritty, dutch angle shots of the city out of the car window to give you a sense of the location.

As I approached the restaurant I invented a new genre I call "stoplight photography." The sky was orange and the streets of St. Louis were just asking to be photographed. But I wasn't willing to die to get neat photos, so I just took them at every red light.

The big trick was trying to edit the dark area at the top of my windshield out of the photos to make it look like I didn't take these pictures from my car.

After a 15 minute detour through Illinois I arrived at my destination—a Mexican place called Rosalita's. It had a beautiful sign, so I took that literal sign as a metaphorical sign it was a nice place to get a quesadilla. 

Dinner was great. Both signs were right and their quesadilla was very tasty. Chris and I both got one, so we are quesadilla twins. The waitress was one of those "I can remember your order without writing anything down" types. And I am one of those, "I get anxiety when things aren't written down" types. And, to her credit, she did not forget our orders. But she did forget to give us silverware and napkins. So I still feel like my anxiety was valid. 

We told sad stories of the pups we lost. But we also had a lot of fun and laughed and I got to meet Michael who turned out to be an absolute mensch. I sometimes have trouble meeting new people with my social anxiety, but he was very affable and made me feel comfortable with his presence almost right away. He was a fan of Otis and mentioned he still has a Super Otis shirt. I always get choked up hearing that Otis is still loved. Hopefully we get to meet again. 

Dinner ended and it was picture time.

I asked Chris if he wanted the high effort photo or the low effort photo. Either we figure out how to get to the Arch or we find a spot near the restaurant and just take his portrait there. Chris and Michael had a driver because they were coming from a big conference and getting to the Arch would have been complicated. So we decided to go with the low effort option. 

I found a cool shop nearby that had an LED wall that changed to all sorts of different colors. And I thought that would make a neat background and give a colorful edge light on Chris's face. I pulled my car near that spot and started unloading my trunk full of photo gear.

I think Chris and Michael were a little overwhelmed when I started pulling camera gear out of my trunk like a clown pulling an endless handkerchief out of his mouth. But as far as photo setups go, it was actually pretty minimal. 

Light, giant battery, light stand, umbrella, tripod, camera, rolling walker with seat.

My dad's old rollator came in clutch because I wanted to shoot from a low angle and it is hard for me to bend down. In fact, I think I'm going to look into getting an all terrain version so I can do more outdoor photoshoots.

I started shooting in the middle of a downtown sidewalk. And I was super anxious. I could not focus (my brain, not my camera). I was very distracted with all of the people walking by and staring. I was not sure if any of the photos were turning out. I wasn't even sure if they were in focus (my camera, not my brain) because I had not yet had my lens calibrated. But down the street there was a guy with an old school boombox playing random music. His music helped to drown out the ambient noise and gave me some comfort.

I had no clue if the photos were any good, but when I got home and checked them on my computer, I realized I have 12 years of experience and muscle memory built up. I probably should have just trusted myself because the photos all turned out great.

I think Chris can now officially say he has had a professional portrait taken of himself.

This photo has been officially loved by Chris's girlfriend and mother.

There is no greater seal of approval and I am honored.

I was able to comp in any of the colors the wall displayed from other shots in case Chris is feeling a little more green in the future.

A literal rainbow of options.

I also liked this one, though it is a little more "environmental portrait" than regular portrait.

And I got some nice photos of our little group to help us remember the night. 

And I got a bunch of photos of Chris making silly faces like Calvin at his school photoshoot. 

I love this woman's reaction to our little impromptu sidewalk photo shenanigans.

After we said our goodbyes and I gave my friend a hug, I was a little bummed I didn't get to photograph him at the Arch like I had dreamed.

But then I realized I had my own car and it was capable of taking me places. (I actually haven't gotten used to that after not driving for nearly 15 years.)

So I decided to drive a few blocks over to Kiener Plaza—a park with a view of the Arch. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[l3viat8an]

Erm. Perv!Asmo? What about Angst!Asmo? Allow me to elaborate.

Mc will age and Mc will die, that's something all brothers have to accept.. and to asmo that's absolutely soul crushing because he loves your scent! so he clings to your half empty perfume bottles and whenever his heart aches too much he'll apply it on himself but never more than once and that's also awful because it never lasts as long as he wishes it did— even tho he loves the perfumes and the scent that reminds him of you he won't buy new ones because it's not only about the smell but the fact they were YOURS, the bottle you two bought together, the same ones you wore to your dates..

- 🍋

Ahahahaha…. 😭😭😭😭

🍋!!! you’re hurting my poor heart over here 😭

Asmo’s so careful with the bottle too- one time he almost dropped it and he cried for hours. He knows he has all his memories and other things that used to be yours, not to mention the photo albums full of pics of the two of you together, but the perfume is precious. Completely special in its own way.

Another time Mammon randomly grabbed your perfume and was about to use some when Asmo grabbed his wrist so hard he almost broke it, which is saying a lot. Gingerly taking the bottle back from Mammon, Asmo doesn’t even explain he just yells at Mammon to get out.

(In Mammon’s defense- he didn’t know that was your perfume, he really was just trying to mess with Asmo by using his stuff. Brothers yk 🙄)

Another time Asmo came home drunk and all he wanted to do was crawl into your arms. Well of course he can’t do that anymore- so he grabs the little bottle off his nightstand (because of course your perfume stays right by his bed.) and he sprays it all over his bed and himself. Usually he’d never use so much at once but right now he needs you!! and now that you’re gone this is the closest he can get…

In the morning he feels so happy just before he opens his eyes, it really feels like you’re in bed with him again! Ahh~ it’s been so long, sweetheart he’s missed you so much! but the sweet dream is gone the second Asmo opens his eyes and then he’s mad at himself for being so careless with something so precious...

[kimhargreeves]

Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)

Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.

(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)

(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)

"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.

I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.

I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"

This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."

"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.

"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.

"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.

"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.

Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."

I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."

"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.

"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"

"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.

Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.

I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.

Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.

"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.

"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.

Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"

I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.

Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.

As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.

"So he's also a devil fruit user?"

I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!

My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.

Where is Zoro anyways?

I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.

I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…

"Hang on!!"

Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?

I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.

I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.

The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.

"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.

The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.

Are we the only survivors?

My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.

I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.

I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.

The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…

By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.

The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.

"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.

"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"

I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"

The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"

It was too late. He was crying again….

It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.

The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.

He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.

"I always wanted a small girl."

"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.

"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."

My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.

"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.

"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.

The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"

I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….

"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"

"How many times do we have to say, no!!"

I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.

Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.

The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.

I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.

"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.

"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.

Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.

Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship

Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.

The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.

"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.

All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.

He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.

I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.

"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.

We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.

Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!

I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.

"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.

I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.

"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.

"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.

"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.

I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.

I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.

"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.

Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.

"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.

I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.

I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.

"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."

Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.

"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!

"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."

If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.

The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"

He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."

[shitsndgiggs]

Hey there is this one fic where you did kenan going through our text messages can you do one where we are going through his text messages

Ty🐧

TABLES TURNED - KENAN YILDIZ

You reacting to Kenan’s DMs

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where you stay in pajamas and lounge around with no particular plans.

Kenan and I were sprawled on the couch, his head resting on my lap as I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his hair.

I had my phone in one hand, scrolling aimlessly, when I suddenly remembered the TikTok trend that Kenan and I had done the other day—where he read through my DMs and reacted to the chaos in them.

The memory of his over-the-top reactions, dramatic sighs, and occasional bouts of jealousy still made me laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Kenan asked, tilting his head up to look at me, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied, grinning mischievously. “Just thinking about how hilarious you were during the DM thing.”

Kenan groaned. “Don’t remind me. Your DMs were a lot.”

“Exactly,” I said, poking his cheek. “And now it’s your turn.”

His eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me,” I said, grabbing his phone from the coffee table before he could react. “We’re doing ‘My Girlfriend Reacts to My DMs.’”

Kenan shot up from my lap, attempting to snatch the phone back, but I dodged him, clutching it like my life depended on it. “Oh, no you don’t!” I teased. “You had your fun with my DMs—this is payback.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, trying to sound casual, but I caught the nervous edge in his voice.

“Kenan,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly. Too quickly. “But you know how people can be in there… It’s not worth your time!”

“Oh, it’s definitely worth my time,” I shot back, unlocking his phone. “Now let’s see what we’ve got here.”

I started scrolling through his Instagram DMs while he sat next to me, shifting uncomfortably.

The first few messages were harmless—just fans expressing their admiration for his game or wishing him luck.

“Aw, this one’s sweet,” I said, showing him a message from a little kid asking for advice on how to become a football player. “See? This isn’t so bad.”

Kenan relaxed a bit. “Yeah, those are fine. That’s most of them, honestly.”

“Hmm, let’s see about that.” I scrolled further, and that’s when the real fun began.

“You’re so fine. If you ever need a rebound, hit me up. I’d take care of you better than your girl ever could.”

I read it aloud, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Oh, really? ‘Better than your girl ever could,’ huh?”

Kenan’s jaw dropped. “Who even says that?! Delete it. Block her. I don’t know her!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“No! Absolutely not,” he said, looking genuinely distressed. “She’s delusional. You know that.”

Next DM: “I have dreams about you, Kenan. Just one night is all I’d need.”

I choked on a laugh. “What do you even say to this?”

“I don’t say anything!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “I don’t even open them!”

“Sure, Mr. Modesty,” I teased. “I bet you love the attention.”

“Only from you,” he said, trying to butter me up.

Another one: A voice memo. I played it, and an overly dramatic voice purred, “Hey, Kenan. Just saw your game… You looked so hot out there. Maybe we could celebrate your win sometime? My treat.”

I looked at him with a mock-serious expression. “So… do you take her up on the offer, or…?”

Kenan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Y/N, stop. This is so embarrassing.”

“No way,” I said, grinning. “This is amazing.”

Then came the kicker: A series of messages from someone who had clearly been trying to shoot her shot for months. Each one was thirstier than the last.

The most recent read: “If you ever get tired of your girlfriend, just know I’m waiting for my chance. I’d treat you like the king you are, baby.”

I dramatically gasped. “Kenan, how could you not reply to such a devoted admirer?”

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” he defended himself. “You know I only care about you.”

I leaned in close, pretending to scrutinize him. “Hmm. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

By the time I finished going through the DMs, Kenan looked like he’d been through the wringer.

His face was flushed, his hands in his hair, and he kept muttering about how unfair this was.

“Relax,” I said, setting his phone down. “It’s all in good fun.”

“For you, maybe,” he grumbled, but I could see the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You survived,” I teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And now I know you’re not secretly entertaining your fan club.”

“You didn’t have to do all that to know that,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around me. “You’re the only one I want, Y/N. Always.”

I couldn’t help but smile, my heart melting a little at his sincerity. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

“Same goes for me,” he said, pulling me closer.

“But just so you know… I’m never letting you go through my DMs again.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing. “But only because I already got the content I needed.”

“You’re impossible,” Kenan muttered, but his grin gave him away as he kissed me.

[pumpkinologists]

Sweet Dreams

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: Spencer wakes up from a dream and tells you all about it

Warnings: Smut, face sitting, hickies, corny fluff

Notes: The fluff parts of this are actually so corny.

Crossposted on AO3

Enjoy!

It was no secret that Spencer talks in his sleep. He said names, locations, unintelligible words, and the occasional fun fact. You learned a lot about him from what he said in his sleep; he would always tell you about his dreams when he would wake up.

The talking never bothered you. Really, it was oddly comforting, lulling you to sleep when he would murmur things and squeeze you tighter to him. 

A whisper of your name was heard throughout the dimly lit and silent room. Being able to tell it was his unconscious mind talking, you opted for a small smile, snuggling into the mattress. It wasn't uncommon for him to say your name. Although the first time he did it, it scared you shitless. 

Just as you were about to fall asleep again, you heard a full, strung-together sentence fall out of the warm body next to you. Turning curiously, you listened for anything else. The small night light that was plugged into the wall by Spencer's nightstand illuminated the sleeping man's face. He looked so perfect. 

"So beautiful." A murmur left his parted lips, and his eyebrows seemed to quirk up slightly. He spoke your name: "Yes, of course." He seemed to be having a conversation with someone in his dream. 

Spencer's body moved, his hands reaching towards you. Your name again. His hand fell on your waist, and a sigh of relief was drawn from him. He weakly tried to pull your body towards him, humming when he was successful. His face pressed into your chest, and his arms hugged you tightly against him.

Unheard words were said lowly into your skin; he seemed to be having a very good dream. Spencer may not seem like it, but he really did enjoy close physical contact, as long as he was comfortable with the person he was engaging in it with. When you first met, he was scared to even hold your hand; now he tries to touch you in any way he can when you're both alone.

Smiling fondly at the memory, you feel Spencer stir against you. "Mm," he whispered your name, his voice awake. You moved a hand up to stroke his hair, reminding him you were there. 

He still held onto you; you were almost sure he was pouting to himself about waking up. "I won't be able to fall asleep again," he whined into your neck. You chuckled and scratched his scalp lightly. 

"Tell me about your dream." Slowly, you moved your hand from his hair down to his back, rubbing it lightly. You could feel Spencer blush as he nuzzled into you. "It's a little embarrassing," he said, but that didn't stop him from picking up his head and recalling what he had imagined. 

"I was in a field," he paused pensively, "A field full of wildflowers; there were mountains in the distance." He started to fidget with the fabric of your shirt.

"It was really peaceful." He smiled softly and said, "I especially liked the part where you showed up." His fingers still fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "You looked so beautiful." A flush came over you at his words. "Did I?" He nodded, a bashful half-smile falling on his lips.

"You’re always beautiful." He was soft with his words; he made eye contact with you, your noses touching. "The most gorgeous human being I’ve ever had the blessing to lay my eyes on."

You're full-on blushing now, the heat carrying throughout your face. He swallowed and opened his mouth to finish his vision. "You were in a white dress. There was a soft breeze." His hand moved to your hip and squeezed gently. 

"You looked like an angel. I swear I saw a halo," he said, laughing softly at the thought. "I was running towards you, and just as we were about to touch, I woke up." You could see the frown on his lips even in the dim light. "Well, I’m holding you right now. Is that not good enough?" you teased, kissing the tip of his nose. 

He scrunched his nose and pinched the skin underneath your shirt. You gasped and pouted, "Hey!" Spencer only chuckled and stroked the skin he had pinched with his thumb. "I guess the real thing is better." He laughed, rolling his eyes. You frowned and lightly smacked his back.

"Seriously," he was genuine now, his voice gentle. "The real thing really is better." His lips maneuvered over to yours, kissing you softly. His hand that was on your hip moved up to hold your cheek, deepening the kiss. It was still gentle, your lips moving together perfectly.

Spencer caressed your cheek and creased his eyebrows. A noise leaving his throat. That noise set something off in you. You pushed him onto his back, not forcefully, but just enough so that he’d get the memo to move himself. You straddled his lap, not breaking the kiss.

Heavy breaths left both of your noses lingering together. You ran your hands down his chest; he still gripped the sides of your face. The noises still came from him. You broke the kiss, panting for breath. Spencer groaned as you ran your hands down his body, stopping at his lower stomach. 

You moved to give his lips a small peck before going to his neck. As you set your lips to kiss gently just behind Spencer’s earlobe, you earned a small whine from the man below you. He squirmed slightly as you continued to plant kisses on his neck. 

Felling Spencer’s growing erection against your ass, you grinned into the kisses you trailed down to his chest. Knowing his chest was sensitive, you tenderly sucked and licked his skin. You created red marks that trailed over his chest, knowing that they would soon turn purple.

Spencer was gripping your hips tightly. His face was scrunched up in pleasure, while whines and whimpers fell melodically from his soft lips. He whined your name as you went lower, his hips writhing underneath you, itching to get some sort of friction.

Now working spots into his stomach, you gripped onto his waist, watching his body twist. A particularly loud whine came from Spencer when you sucked into a sensitive spot right under his ribs.

"Shh, I know. I know," you crooned up at him, moving to take one of the hands that had fallen from your hip. He let out a soft plea, squeezing your hand and thrusting his hips upward.

His v-line came next. His prominent pelvic bone and veins are the most sensitive. You purposely avoided those placed first. Kissing around them. Spencer’s was desperate; the hand that held yours was squeezing so tightly that you felt like he’d crush your bones. 

Giving him some of the satisfaction he craved, you licked the veins that climbed his pelvic area. He gasped, his eyes flying open at the sensation. "So good." Spencer groaned and turned in your grip. You continued to lap at his skin until you reached the waist pant of his purple boxer briefs.   

Just as the hand that still rested on his waist moved to pull down the soft cotton that rested low on his hips, he stopped you. You were confused, removing your mouth from his skin. "Spencer?" you questioned, and he let his panting breath slow down before he spoke.

"Sit on my face. Please." 

It was the most desperate thing you had heard him say. Your mouth was agape, and your motions paused. "I— Spencer?" He shook his head, looked deeply into your eyes, and said, "Please. Please, I need to taste you." 

You were still taken aback by his sudden request, but you nodded slowly. Moving your hands from his body, you moved off him, taking off your panties and throwing them onto the ground. 

Spencer watched the way the soft yellow light illuminated your thighs and lower body. He groaned, his cock somehow growing impossibly harder. "God, you’re so perfect." He rasped, his head falling against the pillow. 

You smiled and moved to straddle him just below his face. "Ready?" you asked softly, reaching down and scratching his scalp. He nodded vigorously. His hands came up to grip your hips as you lowered yourself down onto his mouth. 

Spencer wasted no time as he started to lap at your folds, the sensation causing you to lose your balance. You placed your hands against the headboard and let out a squeak of surprise when he languidly licked at you.

His hands held your squirming hips in place, completely contradicting the way his own pelvis twisted against nothing. The noises that he made sent vibrations straight through your core. You were making noises yourself, with moans and whimpers filling the room. 

The grip you had on the head board intensified, as did the volume of your moans, when Spencer thrust his tongue into your dripping core. The wetness from your pussy was spread all over Spencer’s face. From his nose to his chin, he was covered.

A hand trailed up from your hip to underneath your shirt, gripping your breast. The feeling of his hand fondling you made an impossible amount of wetness gush from your core.

Your hips moved back and forth rhythmically against his face. Your clit hitting his nose perfectly with every movement. He seemed to be enjoying himself; his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he tasted you. His breaths were short, and he was panting. Hips still pushing up into the air. 

Spencer was in heaven, and you were his own personal angel. 

As your arousal continued to grow tenfold, you felt the impending sensation of your orgasm. Your hips sped up, your moans following close by. Spencer must have noticed the way your pussy clenched around his tongue and your moans became more frequent because he started to help you rock your hips back and forth.

He whined into you. His hand that was under your shirt returned to your hip, helping the other hand push you against him. He was close too; the thought of you making a mess on his face was enough for him to be on the brink of coming undone. 

Suddenly, Spencer stopped moving your hips. His mouth just in the right position to suck harshly on your clit. You had no time to process what was going on before you felt the warmth overwhelm you. As you came, you clenched around nothing, your wetness gushing all over Spencer’s face. 

"Oh my god," you panted, sliding off of Spencer’s face and flopping unceremoniously beside him on the bed. "You’re so good," you gulped, and turned to see the man beside you panting, his face glistening with your arousal.

Your eyes trailed down his body; there was a dark spot on his boxers, signifying that he came too. "Spencer?" You called out his name, making sure he still had cognitive function. He hummed and looked over at you, his eyelids heavy and his cheeks glowing bright red. 

"Did you cum just from that?" you whispered in surprise. He furrowed his eyebrows and nodded. "How could I not?" He turned over and held your hand. His eyes scanned your face before he took it into his hands, kissing you gently. 

When he pulled back, his lips lifted into a loving smile. "You’re right. The real thing really is better."

[d-targaryenshoe]

Frozen Pain - Jackson Avery

Word count: 1600

Summary: Love that's real, doesn't know a distance, does it?

You're holding a cup of coffee, comfortable in the luxurious beige couch in your penthouse apartment in New York. You held a letter in your hand, visibly upset.

Hey y/n

I hope this letter finds you very fast. It has been quite some time since we last saw each other at the hospital, or even had a good talk.

And I wanted to let you know that everyone misses you so bad. The hospital just isn't the same without you, or our after-shift drinks at Joe's.

There have been changes since you left. So stay calm when reading this. But Jackson and Maggie are dating now. It came as a surprise to all of us, and it may seem evil but I miss seeing you happy with him.

 I thought you should know since you were...you know what I mean.

I know it's been a while since we last spoke, but I hope you'll find the time to write back when you receive this letter.

Take care, I hope to hear from you soon.

Amelia

"I can't believe this... Jackson and Maggie?" You muttered to yourself placing your cup of coffee on the table and folding the letter closed. 

Images of you and Jackson together, happy and in love, flash across the screen. The memories of your past relationship flood your mind.

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You pick up your phone and dial Amelia's number. After a few rings, she answers.

"You have no idea how much I waited to hear you." Amelia sounded emotional about the fact she noticed you calling for the first time after you had left. "Y/n?"

"Amelia, why didn't you tell me about them when I was still there?" Your voice trembled even if you didn't want it to. "I should've known, you know I should've."

" I didn't know how to break it to you. I thought it would be better if you heard it from me." Amelia spoke, sounding apologetic.

"Well, thanks for that. I can't believe he moved on so quickly." You sighed, leaning back into the couch, staring out of your window. "Maybe I left at the right time."

"I know it hurts, but y/n, you decided to leave Seattle. You had to follow your dreams, remember?" Amelia reminded you.

You sighed deeply, nodding your head even if she couldn't see. " I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. I thought what we had was special."

"It was special, and it still is. But sometimes life takes unexpected turns. You deserve happiness too, you know that." She answered on the other side.

" I just wish I didn't have to find out this way." You muttered, wiping away the tears that fell from your teary eyes.

"I understand. But remember, I'm here for you, no matter what." The Shepherd sister spoke. "Just remember, you're strong and capable of creating your happiness."

 "I will try to remember that." You hang up the phone and take a moment to collect yourself. Despite the pain, you know deep down that you made the right decision by pursuing your career in New York. 

You open your laptop that's on the coffee table and check your emails. You notice a mail from Jo with the subject 'Don't hate me'. You click on the email and start reading.

From: Jo Wilson 

Subject: Don't hate me

Hey y/n,

I hope you're all settled and doing great. I wanted to let you know something that happened yesterday. 

I bumped into Jackson and Maggie in the parking lot, and it seemed like they were arguing, or breaking up, or anything else that wasn't any good. And yes, sometimes I'm too nosy.

 I know your history with Jackson, so I thought I should let you know.

But here's the thing... I accidentally I repeat, accidentally, let it slip that you live in New York.

 I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to reveal any of it! Not without your permission. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that there's a big chance he's on his way to you. 

You quickly close the laptop, unsure of what to do next.

You grab your cup of coffee and walk over to the sink. You place the cup in the sink and turn on the faucet, letting the warm water flow.

"Might as well do something productive to distract me." You whispered to yourself, looking at the dishes. 

You proceed to wash the glasses, rinsing off any soap residue before placing them on a drying rack. 

Suddenly you hear a knock on the door. You cautiously make your way to the door and open it, revealing the last person you'd expect standing on the other side.

Not thinking for another second you tried to shut the door.

"Even three seconds is enough...I just need to know that you're okay." He said, placing a hand on the door, making sure you didn't close it. "Wilson told me you took the offer in New York. I just- I had to see it for myself."

"Well, as you can see. I'm in New York not in Seattle." You shrugged at the man you once fell for or still had, but you couldn't show. "Maggie knows you're here?"

"Who told you that..." He furrowed his eyebrows, taking his hand off the door. 

"Amelia wrote me, Jackson. I know you've moved on, so I think it's best if you do as well." You gave him a small smile, trying to close the door once again. 

 "You've been avoiding my calls and messages. Can we at least talk?" Jackson asked, his eyes staring back at yours. 

" I guess we can talk, but I'm not sure what there is left to say." You sighed, opening the door wider for him to walk inside. "What do you want to know?"

You closed the door, sitting down on your couch.

"I just want to understand why you left so suddenly without talking to me. I thought we had something special." He folded his hands on top of his knees, looking at you. 

You shook your head in denial, staring at the ceiling, feeling the tears pricking in your eyes. "Jackson, it's not that simple. Andrew died, Alex left, Meredith was going to leave, and I needed some time to process everyone leaving me."

"But why didn't you talk to me? We've always been open and honest with each other." Jackson turned his body towards you, leaning an arm on the couch headrest. 

" I know, and I'm sorry. I should have talked to you, but I was terrified. Scared of losing you, scared of facing my own emotions." You answered, placing your face in your hands. 

"I broke things off with Maggie, she...she doesn't feel as home as you do. We've been through hell and back, we can do it again." He said.

"Jackson, it's not that simple. We both have our baggage and unresolved issues. We can't just start from where everything ended?" You got up from the couch, walking over to the huge window, staring down at the busy city.

"I believe in us. I believe that we can work through our problems together." He spoke as you felt him standing behind you.

"I need time to figure things out. I need to understand my feelings and what I want. It's not fair to either of us to rush into anything." You replied, turning around, your heart quickening as you stared back into his bright eyes. 

As Jackson stood in front of you, his eyes filled with determination, you felt your resolve waver. 

"I'd do anything if I have to, only to make things work out between us," he said earnestly.

You let out a heavy sigh, "Jackson, you know it's not that simple. You've just left Maggie behind."

"I know, I know," he said, running a hand over his head. "But I've let go of things in the past that I regret now, but y/n, you? You're, you're something I could never regret, ever."

You turned back around, fighting back the emotions swirling inside of you. "I don't know if I can do this again." You whispered.

"Just...just give me a chance to show you." he pleaded, taking a step closer to you.

The memories flooded back, the laughs, the tears, the late-night conversations. Despite your best efforts, you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. 

You looked up at him, and he smiled back, a hopeful glint in his eyes, and the city lights twinkled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of your penthouse.

 He leaned in, and your heart skipped a beat as his lips met yours. The kiss was intense, filled with both longing and regret.

"What are we doing?" you whispered, breaking away.

"Right now? I don't know," he confessed. "But I miss this and I miss us."

The ache in his words mirrored your own emotions, but you knew it was dangerous to reopen old wounds. "We can't keep doing this to ourselves," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I know, but I can't walk away." Jackson pleaded, his eyes searching yours.

A surge of conflicting emotions coursed through you, and you let out a frustrated moan. "And you think, I can?" you admitted, feeling the weight of those words hanging in the air.

He pulled you close, and a bittersweet laughter filled the room. "Then let's try," he said, his voice determined.

As you looked into his eyes, the city hummed in the background, and you knew this decision would change everything.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey, guys! I've been receiving a ton of messages in response to my last post. It's reminding me of how I first discovered shifting. I feel like doing a little story time since Ive just passed the three-year mark of my discovery, and I've been reminiscing with friends about it.

I remember being in a very dark place when I stumbled upon shifting. I was depressed, and very suicidal. Yet, there was this unshakeable optimism inside me that I was meant for an extraordinary life. Despite my mental state, I had a lot of knowledge of subliminals and the law of attraction (-_-). These gave me hope, but they weren't enough tbh. I didn't want to attract my dream life through practicing gratitude or becoming a magnet for my desires or whatever. Nor did I want to have to listen to subliminals for years on end to achieve my goals. My list of desires was so long, and I needed everything to change that going step by step and waiting years for each one to manifest just wasn't feasible.

But I refused to give up. One day, after a particularly hard day of being sad per usual, I searched on Quora for something like "fastest most powerful subliminals on YouTube ever" (Y’all 😭😭). Among the recommended sub creators, I found a video called "Desired Life: Reality Shifting". The description promised everything I had ever wanted: waking up with all your desires fulfilled permanently in short. It piqued my curiosity so much. Could I really just wake up with my dream life, family, house, wealth, all based on my scripts and imagination?

Growing up, I was a heavy maladaptive daydreamer. From ages 10-17, I created alternate lives in my head, telling myself I would go there someday. I was always doing SATs (State Akin to Sleep), and I think that's what kept me from ending it all. I was constantly in the wish fulfilled state, even though I didn't know what that was at the time.

Back to my story, I went into the comments of that video and came across a guy who claimed that after a week of using this subliminal, he woke up with a new life as a multi-millionaire living in his dream penthouse. I messaged him, and he gave me his Instagram which showcased his luxurious life. He had what seemed like a perfect relationship, he was very attractive, had so many cars, and travelled 24/7 while having a six figures amount of followers. He was living proof that this wasn't just scripting. Also the law of attraction community is known for their mad expensive coaching.. like hundreds of dollars per hour for questions and he was answering it all for free something I didn’t see the law of attraction community. And I talked to him for hours! He never got mad, he had proof, and he was kind, proof and the behavior of someone who really had mastered the art of life.

After our conversation, I spent the next couple of months doing research. I found numerous stories about glitches in the matrix, accidental shifting, people entering parallel realities, and eventually, shifting communities on platforms like Amino and Reddit. It was stuff I already believed in and did in my imagination; I just didn’t know there was a term for it.

Then I got reminded of a memory that I had seriously repressed bc it was so fucking weird. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we were absolutely obsessed with dodo birds. One day, we were outside playing, and on god time seemed to stop. Out of nowhere, a dodo bird appeared. I know you’re probably like “maya be so fr rn you were a kid” but no, This wasn't just our young imaginations running wild - there was a bird that was huge, dinosaur-like, exactly how dodos are described in books and pictures we had.

Then things got weirder. Suddenly it started raining eggs. Big, large eggs everywhere it was so gross and my brother and I were a mess. We were young, sure, but not stupid. We knew this wasn't normal. My brother and I rushed inside to tell our dad. When I managed to drag him outside, he was furious, accusing me of throwing eggs everywhere. To this day, he tells the story of the time I "trashed the backyard with eggs." And every time, I'm like, "Dad, where would I get that many eggs?" We didn’t have eggs but so he assumed I stole them and we went inside for hours and it was magically cleaned. So he also tells the story of how responsible I am and how I took accountability for my actions even as a child. I didn’t clean that shit bro and I tell him that too and he just laughs it makes me so mad.

My brother, who knows I'm into reality shifting (though he doesn’t really believe in it), can't explain that day either. He often shrugs it off as a "glitch in the matrix," which honestly, well no duh it is a shift dummie. He does believe in manifesting but only bc he has seen me use it and he experiences the good things I manifest as well. They’re the same thing anyways but that isn’t the point

The reason I'm bringing up this bizarre childhood memory is because during my months of research into shifting, I found countless stories of accidental shifts, people entering the void, entering parallel universes, time glitches, examples of the Mandela effect first hand, glitches in the matrix and etc. It was like uncovering a myriad of experiences that confirmed what I already believed: we can change and choose our reality. I just didn’t know the phenomena had a name. Obviously in the future I came across other things like the law of assumption, the void state, etc etc but this was where it started.

I wish I had saved all those fascinating stories, posts, and blogs. I might go back and compile everything I found because they were so real and enlightening. It will probably take forever tho if I do choose to do that, but I think it's worth sharing.

In the meantime, check out this accounts of accidental shifts that my friend shared with me this account https://instagram.com/tessicavision?igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA== based off the Glitch in the Matrix subreddit which is also a goldmine of people experiencing similar phenomena. It helped me make sense of my own experiences and might do the same for you.

I don’t want this to be too long and I already got to the point I think! but regardless stay curious and realize you’re really not that special. I mean ofc you are, i mean this is not some tumblr thing teens girls discovered or created and isn’t even limited to “spiritually/manifesting inclined people” I think at the beginning of my journey people talking about accidental shifts and such, inspired me more than purposeful success stories because they really have no reason to lie and they were looking for answers just like I was.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Night 82: Practice 

words: 2193

rating: E

pairing: Gale x Tav

summary: Gale's first day at Blackstaff Academy was fast approaching, so he and Tav decide to practice with a little student/teacher role play

tags: heterosexual sex (m/f), roleplay, student/teacher roleplay, all members are of age, use of magic, fingering, cunnilingus, rough sex, bend-me-over-the-desk-daddy, Gale is a nervous nelly.

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

His first day at Blackstaff Academy was fast approaching, and Gale didn’t think he had been this anxious since it was his last first day as a student.

Being offered a teaching position at his alma mater was a dream come true. To be so respected for his magical abilities to instruct others, and perhaps caution them through his follies, was something Gale didn’t realize he wanted so much until he got it. He wanted to make a good first impression. To that end, he was running himself in circles trying to get everything just right. Churning his stomachs into knots in the process.

“I really think it’s going to be fine Gale.” Tav told him, from her safe place on the couch amongst his chaos, trying to soothe him.

“But if I can’t find this damned book then my lesson won’t make any sense!” He insisted.

“Are you going to read the whole book to the class on the first day?”

“Well…no.”

“Are you going to assign them to read it on the first day?”

“Gods no. The text in this book are far too advanced for novice apprentices to even comprehend, much less replicate.”

“Then why do you need it?”

Gale stopped his rummaging. Realizing in his wife’s perfectly boiled down words that she was right. He sighed. “I just…I want to make a good impression on the students…”

“You’re Gale Dekarios,” Tav told him, as if he had forgotten, “formally Gale of Waterdeep, Mystra’s Chosen, and one of the saviors of Faerun. I think the impression has already been made.”

Gale chuckled once. Leave it to Tav to give him a boost of confidence, should his coffers ever run low. “Yes, well, now I want to add ‘teacher extraordinary’ to my apparently long resume.” He came over to sit next to Tav on her couch; in what little space was left to her. “I’ve just never taught anyone before. What if I’m not any good at it?”

“You taught me.” Tav reminded him. The two of them both mentally drifting back to that night in the woods where they shared a moment of magic, connecting with the Weave.

“That is different. A simple incantation done by practiced, beautiful hands.” He told her. “But teaching wizards who wish to master the Weave, to be the foundation on which they build their temple of study, it’s a lot of pressure. If I fail at a spell or incantation, I have nothing to show for it except a sore head and perhaps a few singed eyebrows, but if I fail them….”

“Why don’t we practice?” Tav suggested suddenly.

“Practice?” Gale repeated curiously. As if even that simple concept was lost to him (his students were truly doomed).

“Yeah! Practice! You go through your whole first day lesson and I shall play the part of your eager, attentive student.”

Gale laughed. He had to admit, an eager & attentive Tav was something that was conjuring images not fit for a classroom, but her concept was sound in theory. “Alright. Let’s give it a whirl. But if we’re going to do this,” Gale waved his hand and in a blink, they were no longer standing in their living room but a memory of his own former classroom, “let’s do it right.”

Tav beamed and looked around the illusionary room in awe. Gale wondering if it was the visions of room or the details of his illusion that had her undivided attention. He’d have to show her one day. Walk her around the school. Show her the gardens. Where he used to hide out from the headmaster when he was in trouble. His classroom both then and now. He couldn’t wait.

“First things first, my students will always have to show up to class in proper uniform attire.” He snapped his fingers and Tav flinched as her outfit changed from her common clothes into Blackstaff Academy robes. Making her giggle.

“Of course, Professor.” Gale felt his back go a little straighter when she said that.

He watched as she went over to one of the desks and sat in the front row. Bright eyes. Bright smile. Chin in her hands as the picture of enthusiasm, and the perfect distraction. “Alright, teach me Professor Dekarios.”

Oh…this may have been a bad idea….

For all his wayward thoughts, not fit for a member of the illustrious Blackstaff Academy, Gale felt he did very well for a practice run. Tav took her role very seriously. She paid attention. She asked questions. Hells she even took notes. If he didn’t think about the fact that she was his wife and they were actually standing in their living room for a moment, he would have truly believed that all of this was real.

“So, how did I do?”

“You did wonderfully. Your other students are going to love you.”

Gale smiled softly at Tav, now that they were standing together in classroom like any other post lecture chit-chat, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’ll always be my favorite student though.”

“Oh really?” That grin that Gale knew all too well coiled its way on to Tav’s lips. She took a step closer. Leaning her weight forward into his personal space while her hands just barely rested on his hips. “Do favorite students get preferential treatment?”

“They certainly do.” His own hands reach out for her. Closing the gap between them as he stared into her eyes. “If they’re good.”

“Oh, I’m a very good girl.” A whine bubbled up Gale’s throat, just about to come out before he swallowed it back down. “So, what do I get, Professor?”

Gale lunged forward with his lips to capture Tav’s in a kiss. Unable to hold back anymore. He was almost ashamed to admit how turned on he was. Using his new, illustrious, highly respected job as a form of role play but Gods was he hard.

He kissed her recklessly. Still with the presence of mind to keep his illusion intact as he turned them around, so Tav’s back was against the desk. “Sit.” Instantly, she did as she was told. Like the word was some manner of incantation lock like what he just covered in his lecture. “That’s my good girl.” Gale doesn’t miss Tav’s own whimper that doesn’t stay locked inside her throat. “You did so well in class today. Eager. Attentive.” There were those words again. Only this time he could put them into a different kind of practice. “I think eager young students should get rewards. Positive encouragement is the cornerstone of my teaching methods.” With the tip of his finger, Gale pressed against the spot where her collarbones met and slid down. His finger acting like a knife to his illusion as it ‘cut away’ her uniform. The long robes peeling back from her until they were no more than an open cloak around her naked body.

“Gale,” Tav hissed once her skin was exposed; likely from the cool rush of air on her skin, or the brush of magic tickling away as the illusion gave way to some reality. He gave her one stern, but playfully, look and she instantly corrected to, “oh..I mean…Professor.” His clever, clever girl.

He kissed her again. Holding the back of her head close to him. Tav then gasped loudly into his mouth. Her head tilting back. “What’s this you’ve brought me then, hm?” Gale asked as he continued to touch her. His whole hand cupping her while his fingers played with the wet slit they found there. “Certainly doesn’t feel like an apple for your teacher. But maybe it’s just as sweet.”

Falling to his knees between hers, Gale pushed her legs apart to devour her. Hungry for her to the point of drooling almost as much as her cunt. Her hands braced behind her on the desk as she tilted back. Her face towards the sky as she moaned for him. “Oh Gods Gale…! Mhmm….! Fuck right there!”

“Such language from my most gifted student.” Gale scolded as he pulled back.

Tav whined. Her body literally twitching with desire. “Gale…mmm..Professor…” He rewarded her by sliding his index & middle finger over her entrance, between her wet folds and her clit, for remembering their game. “Please don’t stop….”

“Ssh..ssh…ssh…” Gale hushed Tav gently, though his fingers never stopped what they were doing. He then slipped them in. Her opening eager to accept but clenching frantically for want of something more. “Shall we continue your oral exam, or do you want to move on to harder lessons.”

“Harder lessons Professor, please.” He doesn’t want to think of his wife as a slut, but the way she spread her legs with his fingers still inside her, leaning back on his desk, non-verbally begging Gale to fuck her, she looked downright filthy. “I’m ready for a more indepth education.”

Pulling his fingers free from her to use both hands on his belt to get it off faster, Gale pulled out his throbbing cock and thrust it inside her. He didn’t even bother with the rest of his clothes. Behaving as if they had no time for him to take them off. Like someone could walk in from another class at any moment, they were so lost in the illusion. Tav didn’t seem to mind as she moaned greedily against his ear. Her hands fisting in his shirt. “Fuck me hard, Professor. Teach me a lesson.” Gale growled and nipped at her ear. Tav squealed before descending into moans as he did what she asked.

The desk wasn’t as helpful as one would have thought. It lent to the aesthetic and overall fantasy of the moment but didn’t provide a lot of leverage in their current position. All a matter of perspective though, and what kind of teacher would Gale be if he wasn’t a problem solver?

He pulled his cock out, all shiny and wet, before he moved Tav from the desk and flipped her over. A much better position as her hands now braced her in the front and her ass stuck out towards him; illusionary robes long gone now as either Gale willed them to vanish or his spell was cracking on its own with his attention divided, he couldn’t quite tell. Taking only a moment to admire the new vision before him, like any good lover of art, Gale thrust back into Tav hard and continued their rough game.

The sounds she made were invigorating. Loud shouts. Breathy moans. Sharp cries of ecstasy.

“Mmm…Professor…” She was completely lost in the fantasy now. “You’re being so rough…”

“That’s what you asked for, isn’t it.” Tav groaned as his hand wrapped around his throat to tilt it up towards him. His chest against her back as he whispered in her ear. “For me to fuck you hard. Even before you asked with your words. Staring up at me with those big eyes from your desk. You asked for this.”

“Yes.” Her nails scratched against the wood and some muffled version of the word ‘more’ fell from her lips.

“Do you do that for all your professors? Look up at them with those big, beautiful eyes for attention? For praise?”

“N-No.”

“Why is that?”

“I only want you.”

It was Gale’s turn to groan, and he turned Tav’s head as far as it would go to pull her in for a big, sloppy kiss. During this, he felt Tav’s wall shutter around him. Her body quake as her hands fought to keep purchase on the desk. Destroying the imaginary papers scattered on top of them. He lasted a few more thrusts before he came too. His resolve snapping like an overstrung cord, along with his spell.

Without his illusions, their mount disappeared and they fell to the floor. Gale tried to brace them as much as he could to cushion the fall. Feeling the pain in his shoulder though, after he successfully ‘saved them’, he had to wonder why he didn’t conjure some real cushions. “Are you alright?”

“I’m better than alright.” Tav told him. She didn’t seem phased at all by their stumble. But then again stumbles, of any kinds, never seemed to keep her down. She pulled herself free from him but then turned around to face him. Head in her hand with her elbow on the floor. “So, Professor, how did I rate?”

“Oh, full marks all around.” He teased back. Pulling her in for a proper kiss now that they were facing each other. “But I always have time to offer extra credit, for my most industrious students.”

Tav giggled. The sound and that smile infectious. “Do you feel better about your first day now?”

“Well, I can’t do any of that with my students.” He quipped. “But the first part, yes. I think it really helped. I feel I really have a command of it now, although that might be the residual endorphins talking.” Tav snorted, but then curled up beside him.

They seemed content to lay there for a while on the floor. Enjoying the moment. “I still wish I could find that book though.”

“Gale!”

[back2bluesidex]

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:- 

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes” 

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago. 

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements. 

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin. 

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you. 

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous. 

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself. 

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin. 

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback. 

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-” 

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not. 

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless. 

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing. 

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”  

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?” 

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?” 

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well. 

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.  

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring. 

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you. 

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth. 

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?” 

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already. 

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly. 

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak. 

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down. 

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.  

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all. 

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you. 

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. 

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?” 

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear. 

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name. 

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.  

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight. 

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination. 

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water. 

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way. 

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him. 

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably. 

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.” 

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night. 

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case. 

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you. 

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of. 

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside. 

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone. 

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world. 

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line. 

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess." 

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you. 

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more." 

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.” 

“Yeah. see you.” 

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it. 

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process. 

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure. 

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit. 

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants. 

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit. 

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock. 

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you. 

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend. 

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure. 

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second. 

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out. 

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly. 

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away. 

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours. 

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower. 

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another. 

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more. 

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes. 

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot. 

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets. 

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more. 

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok  Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee  Reasons behind seeking help:  1. Changes in behavior  2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares  4. Mild panic attacks 

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table. 

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face. 

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.” 

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka  prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight. 

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.” 

You nod understanding his point of view. 

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks. 

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.  

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe? 

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers. 

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair. 

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything. 

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door. 

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend. 

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests. 

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll. 

You almost coo at the sight. 

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one. 

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby. 

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend. 

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight. 

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside. 

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly. 

Her cuteness makes you giggle. 

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind. 

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians. 

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.” 

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features. 

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.” 

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat. 

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair. 

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head. 

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?” 

Sua stays silent. 

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones. 

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth. 

The change is welcomed anyway. 

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it. 

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet. 

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question. 

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer. 

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing. 

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies. 

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds. 

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well. 

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung. 

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung. 

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?” 

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad. 

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes. 

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods. 

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?” 

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.” 

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly. 

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.” 

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him. 

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk. 

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months. 

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.   

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo

[2cool4ghoul]

I can dream, can't I?

Part 2 <3

AO3 link <3

This is my first time uploading anything like this, this dried up old cowboy got me feeling some kind of way! felt like joining the club! I was hoping for this to be multiple parts (featuring pre war Cooper and the ghoul) if anyone is interested in that, let me know!!!!!

word count: 4,349

Summary: You've spent the last few years after escaping your vault roaming the wastelands, doing whatever it is that you need to do to get by. Before the bombs dropped you were a model/singer, which is were you met western movie star Cooper Howard! You two spent the last few months before the bombs dropped falling in love but the bombs put a pin in that. But one day amongst the endless days spent walking, you come across a crazily familiar cowboy....

warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (fem receiving), swearing, minimal violence, if you want a part 2 there will be p in v, restraints, not yet edited.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Whilst the sun proved itself unbearable on most days, today had been particularly blistering. 

Traveling through the wasteland alone, on little to no water, with zero companionship had started to take its toll on you and you were sure you were becoming delirious. Your canteen had ran dry a couple miles back, the nearest town was unimaginably far, and you could’ve sworn you’d already passed that mound of dried yellowing grass. 

Refusing to admit you were lost, you dug your feet into the sand, one step at a time, panting and wiping the sweat from your brow. It was times like this that made you wish you’d never left your Pip-boy behind in the vault when you made your dramatic exit. What once served as a constant reminder of the vaults would’ve now been your best chance at survival. 

You shudder whenever memories of your vault come to mind. The experiments and test you had endured had left enough scars on your body to make you forget what your skin looked like before everything. 

Before the bombs had dropped you had been plastered on every other billboard, advertising whatever suspicious product had been shoved in your hands that day. You’d once had dreams of becoming a singer, but that had been stripped away from you in the midst of a messy divorce with none other than the head of RobCo himself. He’d sought to ruin what was left of your dreams in anyway that he could, even if that meant freezing you for god knows how many years and letting men play their cruel games with you in the name of science. These memories were often punctuated with plans of revenge and carefully thought out methods of torture that would yield the most excruciating pain. There was lots of time to think and to plan when wandering the wasteland, so you knew you’d be ready when the time came.

A sadistic grin was wiped from your lips when a distant scream snapped you from your planning. You paused for a moment, frowning whilst trying to figure out from what direction the commotion was coming from. Gunshots were fired, igniting excitement in your belly at the thought of a possible fight, something to break the monotony of walking all day and night long. Once you’d figured out the location of whatever was going on, you paced in its direction, a large dune of sand providing you with a height advantage. The grunts and growls of a creature grew louder, frantic shouts of panic coming from a women. 

You could immediately identify the creature by its ungodly noises, however when the scene came into view, you were still impressed with yourself for being correct. A deathclaw had chosen two wanderers as its victims. One appeared to be a vaultie, still in her nearly pristine blue and yellow suit, making you scoff a little. The other, a ghoul dressed in a cowboy get up, his hat having been knocked to the side as he tried his very best to fight of the beast which was barely flinching at the bullets being torn into its skin. The Vaultie had been holding up a tranquilliser gun, which was doing little to deter the deathclaw from sizing up its next meal, managing to swipe her back into the sand with a thud. It then set its eyes on the ghoul, slowly stalking up to them as they hastily reloaded their gun. 

After a few moments of deciding on the next course of action, whether to let the laws of nature take their course or to intervene, you decided on intervening. No matter how hard you’d try to forget it, you too had once been a vaultie trying to survive and would’ve begged on your knees for help. Or maybe you had just become soft. Swiftly, you pulled your shotgun from over your shoulder, lifting it and shutting one eye to aim correctly. You squeezed and pulled the trigger, right as it jumped to pounce on the ghoul. Your first bullet lodged itself into the side of the creatures face, and you shot another bullet right between the eyes, leaving it slumped on the floor beside the ghoul, who was now laying on his back, catching his breathe. It took a moment for the two strangers to locate who had saved them as you stood atop the dune, shotgun still in hand, blinking at them with an unreadable expression. Despite saving their lives, you didn’t trust that they wouldn’t turn on you, so you kept your gun in hand, breathing steadily.

“Thank you, stranger! I surely thought that was the end!” The Vaultie beamed up at you, wide eyes showing their relief, the grin plastered across her face, showing too much innocence. 

“My pleasure, sugar!” You called back down, your southern accent thicker than it used to be, surprising you even when you spoke. “You two best keep your wits about ya, not everyone out here is as willin’ to lend a helpin’ hand to those in need.” 

“We will certainly keep that in mind!” She glanced over at you and then over to the ghoul who was staring at you with wide eyes, his hat in hand, frozen in place. 

“Well,” You began making your way down the dune, walking carefully with the gun still in hand due to the Ghoul’s out of sorts reaction to your help, “You wouldn’t happen t’have any water you could share, in exchange fo’ saving your lives?” You tilted your head, diverting your attention to the Vaultie, flashing her one of your signature starlet grins, fluttering your lashes. 

“Of course!” She swung her back pack off her shoulder, also choosing to ignore the staring from the silent Ghoul, “I’m not too confident about how clean it is, but it is sure to quench your thirst!” She scrambled for her canteen before passing it in your hands eagerly. 

“Thank you, sweet girl.” You tipped your head to her before sipping, coolly, trying not to show how desperately you needed this. Whilst taking your last sip, your eyes got caught in the stare of the Ghoul, feeling him looking you up and down, examining your body and the tattered dress and cowboy boots, taking in every bit of you, eyes still as wide. “What’s tha matter with him?” You pressed as you passed the canteen back, “Looks like he’s seen a ghost.” Teasing, the Vaultie mirrored your confused expression.

“I think I have.” His voice was deep, the southern drawl faintly recognisable. He had finally gotten up to his feet, still standing a safe distance away from you. You took this as an opportunity to stare him down now. His face was marred and textured, his prominent bone structure told you before the effects of radiation took their toll, that he’d been rather handsome. Underneath the many layers of his clothes, a fade blue collar peeked out. You stood in silence, the pressure of his thick glare finally becoming all to much, your hand ghosting over your holster.

“Didn’t your mama teach you it was rude t’stare, old man?” Your tone was now threatening, “are we gonna have a problem?” Licking your lips, you readied yourself, the tension rising as you took a step closer. 

“Now, is that anyway to speak to your sherif?” He lowered his voice, so only you could hear him, also taking a step closer, the gap between you so small you could feel his breath fanning over your face. He stood much taller than you, intimidating in his stance, you had to tip your head back and look at him through your eyelashes, furrowing your brows.

“Cooper?...” You stuttered through your own confusion, your head leaning to the side slightly. At this close proximity you were able to properly look into his unchanged eyes. The glowing whiskey colour, twinkling in the hot sun. Immediately recognisable. “Oh, now you’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me?” You laughed a sinister laugh, as a smug smirk played out over his lips. 

Catching him by surprise, you shoved him by both shoulders, sending him stumbling and falling back to the ground. You were quick to straddle his waist, pulling a knife from its holster attached to your thigh. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” You threatened, he grabbed your wrists in protest, “You fucking knew, you told me I was crazy and you fucking knew all along!” 200 years of grief and longing and anger faltered at your lips, unable to form a full sentence as you both struggled on the floor. The Vaultie had chosen not to intervene, a couple ill attempts at deescalating the situation fell upon death ears. 

“Goddammit, darlin!” Cooper managed to hold both your wrist in one hand, pinning them behind your back. He flipped to two of you over, so he was firmly on top of you, the knife dropping from your hand as you fought back tears. You wriggled in his grip, eyes glassy, refusing to meet his own eyes. “You died, you had some awful crash, I went to your funeral.” He hissed at you, “What’re you doin’ here?” You stopped moving, stopping wriggling, the penny finally dropping. You sighed relaxing your body. He took note of this, his body falling next to you tired. You didn’t want to answer his question, sitting upright, deciding to leave the situation. 

“Not to intrude, but can someone tell me whats going on?” His companion waved awkwardly, finally taking a step closer to the two of you. You weren’t one to jump to conclusions but you looked back at Cooper and then at the girl, a sly chuckle leaving your lips.

“God, coop, you really are a dog, aren’t ya?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you shook your head, pushing yourself of the ground. “Well, you’ve certainly found yourself shacked up with a real man, miss…?” You spoke sarcastically, picking your knife from the floor, setting back into its sheath, gesturing for her name.

“Oh, my names Lucy-“ She put out her hand to shake yours before she was interrupted.

“Maclean.” It was spoken through gritted teeth, Cooper standing up, staring you down as you kissed your teeth.

“As in Henry Maclean?”

“Yeah, he’s my dad, I apologise in advance for what he did to you.” Lucy’s voice trailed off and she looked down, scuffing her feet. 

“We’re looking for him, haven’t seen him have ya?” Cooper was now standing by your side.

“No can’t say I have, I best be off,” His pointed glare looked at you unsure, untrusting of your decision to leave, “now you two have fun!” Turning you back to the both of them, you started walking in the opposite direction, ignoring any further protests, your name being called after you.

There was a slight scratch felt on your back, just below your shoulder. Stopping in your tracks, you reach round to pull out a small syringe. A scoff leaving your lips, the world around you deteriorating around you and melting into darkness. Your knees weakened and you fell directly to the ground, everything turning black just before your head made contact with the sand beneath you.

 ———————————————————————————————————————————

When you awoke, the room was dark and open, the warm glow of a fire illuminating one corner, casting a flickering orange shadow on the wall. Your head was throbbing, your body aching, you went to lift your arms to rub your eyes. However, you quickly came to realise you had been tied around the waist with rope, arms restrained behind your back, slumped in a chair which was close to falling apart. You writhed against your restraints, huffing before looking up and realising you were not alone in the room. 

Cooper was sat opposite the fire, the brim of his hat covering his eyes. “Sleeping’ beauty finally woken up?” You didn’t respond, simply staring him down looking at him past furrowed brows. “didn’t want to tranq ya, sweetheart, but you’re not gettin’ away that easy.” He smirked, leaving his position opposite the fire, slowly wandering over to you, the clatter of his spurs echoing in the empty room. “We got some catching up to do, do we not?” He now stood in front of you, the velvety drawl of his voice sounding better than you remember.

“M’not giving in that easy, Coop.” A smirk fluttered over you lips, blinking up at him through your lashes, sitting back in the chair to pretend at being comfortable.

“No? Of course you wouldn’t,” chuckling, he placed a gloved hand on your chin, forcing you to stare him in the eyes, “you wouldn’t be the lady I remembered so fondly if you did.” There was a chair that he dragged from out of you view, placing it in front of you, sitting down with his legs spread opposite you. “Now, you gonna tell me how you’re still here, lookin’ exactly how I left you, or am I gonna have to do this the hard way?” He spoke quietly, his elbows resting on his knees, leaning in closer to you. 

“I’m not telling you shit.” Your chest rose and deflated with every heavy breath you took, his gaze becoming almost as unbearable as the sun earlier that day. He tutted, leaning back, your eyes taking any chance they could to steal a glance between his thighs. He was pretending not to notice but you knew he did. This was the beginning of a sick game. One you definitely wanted to play. 

Licking his lips, he looked you up and down, tied up in your chair, squeezing your thighs together. For a moment there was silence, just the crackling of the fire. “What am I gonna do with you?” He muttered to himself as you sat firm in your silence 

“I can’t help you, Cooper, I don’t have the information you need.” You spoke matter of fact, and it was partly true. You knew nothing of Macleans whereabouts, you didn’t even know he was still kicking about.

“And what do you know about what information I need, huh?” He pondered, pulling a canteen of water from his coat pocket, your body stiffening at the sight of it. He raised it to his lips, slowly, eyes never leaving yours, even as drops littered down his chin, rolling down his neck. God, you could’ve jumped out of your chair and licked up those drops, drinking the water straight from his mouth. Your jaw fell slightly slack at the sight of it, the thoughts of sucking it up making your hips grind slightly in his direction, begging for any friction. This of course did not go unnoticed, for a sadistic chuckle left his chest, deep and inviting. “My oh my, you always were like a bitch in heat,” his tongue ran across his teeth, “you thirsty, lil’lady?” He gestured the canteen your way, “All you gotta do is ask for it.” 

You maintained your burning eye contact, pressing your lips together and nodding. “Gotta use your words,” getting up from his chair, he stalked his way over to you, making you crane your head up, basically panting for him, “go on, girl, ask for it.” He was enjoying this way too much.

“Give me some water.” You almost growled, the canteen so close to your lips, immediately pulled away.

“You need me to teach you some manners, girlie?” He was frowning, standing slightly behind you, just in view, “ask nicely.” 

“Can I have some water?” You were restless and if you squeezed your legs shut anymore your legs would be trembling, throbbing with your underwear damp with arousal. A light slap was planted against your cheek, not enough to hurt, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I’m not begging for it, Cooper.” Your tone was firm, but not firm enough to be truthful.

“Is that so?” His hand had moved down to your neck, grabbing firmly and tilting your head back so you could see him standing behind you, canteen in one hand. “Then you’re not gettin’ any.”

He kept a hold of you, like a wild animal, whilst he took another gulp of water, droplets dripping from his mouth pattering on your forehead and cheeks. Your mouth fell open, in the hopes of catching some, but you failed, only earning a throaty laugh from Cooper. “Christ, women, Look at you!” You’re cheeks flushed red with shame, humiliated with the mess you were. “You know what you gotta say-“

“Please Cooper Howard, I am begging you, Please!” You whined, close to tears as he raised where his eyebrows had been, watching you finally give in, pleased with himself. “Please.” You repeated breathing heavily. Your mouth dry, tongue running over your lips.

“Open wide, angel.” He mumbled, grip on your neck loosening ever so slightly. He tipped the contents into your mouth, water had never tasted so good, you let out relieved moans as you were replenished, not caring for the water that was spilling down your chest, falling between your breasts.

Whilst you took a moment to release a sigh of relief, the hand around your neck began traveling down, causing the tension to immediately rise back up. “That wa’nt so hard was it?” The depth of his voice and his accent leaving you quivering. His hand found its way to your breast, cupping and squeezing it, your back arching to his touch. He had been the last man to touch you like this, all those 200 years ago, and you’d dreamt of it ever since. You had never imagined you’d be lucky enough to experience it again. Yet, just as quick as his touch was on you, it left. You furrowed you brows, turning to try and meet his gaze with a pout, yet he was walking back out in front of you. Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth as he had a sly grin on his lips. If your lips weren’t saying it, your big eyes were pleading with him to give you something else. Painfully slowly, he dropped to his knees in front of you, and your body involuntarily scooted to the edge of the seat, embarrassed by your own eagerness.

Despite him still being the man you’d once known somewhere in there, he’d been changed undoubtedly by his years of wandering. You shouldn’t be attracted to him anymore in the way you were. It was shameful of you to be this eager and will for him. Begging for any slight touch. Begging for a ghoul to give you something for your aching cunt to squeeze around.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and spread those legs of yours, show me what I been dreamin’ ‘bout?” Dripping with lust, he ordered whilst pushing your dress up around your waist. Doing as you were told, you opening your legs, being slightly shy. “No use being shy now, girl, open ‘em wide for this o’cowboy.” His annoyance only spurred you on, spreading them as wide as you could in the chair. “Goddamn,” He hissed, running his bare finger tips over your clothed arousal, the material slick and wet, “Your pretty lil’ pussy, practically dripping for me,” he groaned while pulling the fabric to one side, eyes taking in the sight of you panting, mouth wide, spreading your legs like a good girl, “all over a drop o’water?” He had a smirk on his new wet lips, that you just wanted to slap off. You thought for a moment of clenching your thighs around his head and neck and choking him out, yet you figured he’d enjoy that too much for it to be a form of punishment. 

When his mouth kissed against your inner thighs, you whispered a gasp, thighs finally trembling giving in to showing him how desperate you were for him. He was being cruel, teasing you and testing your limits. He refused to give into what you wanted without hearing you beg for it once more, taking immense pleasure in seeing you quivering and leaning into his slightest touch. His lips ghosted over where you needed him most, your eyes growing glassy, your stomach burning with desire, body aching from the tension you so needed releasing.

“Oh god, Cooper please, I need you so much, I’m achin’, it hurts, I need you.” Your words came out quickly, breathlessly, surprising the two of you, wiggling against the restraints, wishing to just grab his head and shove it into your grinding heat. He glanced up at you for moment, “please, I cant take this anymore.” You shook your head. “I’ll tell you anythin’ you want, please, just… just give me something.” A blanketed layer of sweat had ran over your body, glistening in the dimming glow of the unattended fire.

“You gon’ be a good girl f’me?” He looked at you sternly, his breath fanning over where you needed him most.

“I’ll be so damn good, I promise, I’ll do anything you want me to.” Swallowing down whatever was left of your pride, you scooted even closer to him and he hummed closing his eyes for a moment.

“I could listen to you beggin’ f’me all day.” He finally gave in.

His tongue lapped against you, a moan finally escaping you, He’d taken your thighs and rested them over his shoulders, full delving into you. His tongue dipped into you and you mewled. You so desperately wanted to touch him, pull him closer. The tension boiling within you was dangerously close to spilling over, embarrassingly fast. “God,” his voice vibrated against you, “You taste even sweeter than I remember, my sweet sweet girl.” He was in complete bliss, giving into a self indulgent spree of groans, sucking you in trying to taste as much as possible. Your thighs knock off his hat, yet neither go you seem to notice. He sucked at your clit, finding the sweet spot that he always knew so well, causing you to writhe and curse his name.

“Oh, Cooper, I’m gonna… oh please!” His hands dug into your thighs, leaving red marks that would definitely leave a bruise in their wake. He maintained his actions, until one hand reach round, finger tip tapping your clit whilst his tongue dug into you, readying himself to taste you as you came undone. 

“You gon’ cum for me, darlin?” He cooed.

This was enough to set you over the edge, “Oh my god, fuck!” You rocked forward, like a women possessed, as you clenched and squeezed shaking and shivering for him. Gulping for air, you were seeing stars, “There you go, attagirl.” He groaned, working you through you orgasm as the tension in your body released, your limbs relaxing. You were whimpering, expecting to feel his presence leaving you. However he remained, the pace of his fingers on your clit was fastening. Your back straightened, wishing you could relish in the release for longer before he started again. “I need a moment.” You panted and he looked up at you, pulling his face away, the sheen of his orgasm on his lips.

“No can do, sweetheart,” shaking his head, knelt in front of you, “I’m not finished with you yet.” Your eyes widened, gulping for air, mouth dry again. 

The finger was gone from your clit, pushing its way inside you as you threw your head back welcoming its entrance. “Besides, looks like youre takin’ it just fine to me.” His cocky voice was barely audible over the moans as he rutted his finger into you. He forced another digit in, slowly testing you with the feeling of pulling them all the way out and then all the way in again, knuckle deep in your cunt. You ground your hips against his fingers, eyes rolling back into your head, “God, look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers, you needy lil girl.” He tutted at you, dumbfounded by your willingness.

He curved his fingers, grazing against the spot which made you arch your back, “right there, sweetheart?” There was a gentleness in his voice, looking up at you as you clenched all your muscles against the rope, tied way to well for you to break free.

“Mmhmm, right there, cowboy.” You forced your words out, struggling to cope with the pleasure rushing through your body. Eyes squeezed shut, clenching around his fingers, fighting another orgasm with all your might, trying not to give in so easily this time. “I want you so bad.” You groaned and he went slightly rigid.

“Lets not move too fast now.” His jaw clenching, his own restrained demeanour threatening to break and snap. His quickened his pace with his fingers, trying to distract himself from the aching bulge of his own. “Don’t hold out on me, princess, I can feel how close you are, the way you squeezing round these fingers, come for me one more time.” He growled it, thrusting his hips into nothing, watching the way you were unraveling and moaning his name. He hadn’t expected you to be so eager, the rough exterior very different to the man you’d fallen in love with. 

The ever-growing tension was released once more, heart pounding in your chest, eyes rolling back until they’re were squeezed shut, cursing profanities and taking the lords name in vain, letting out unholy noises, rope beginning to rub the skin writhing beneath it raw. “Oh Cooper Howard, don’t stop.” You continued rolling against him, the use of his full name setting his heart alight. The waves of pleasure didn’t seem to stop, his fingers riding out the high for you, body shaking with tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body was truly truly spent. You had nothing left to give except for a lazy half lidded gaze at coop who was still kneeling opposite you, proud of himself that after all this time he was still able to leave you a dripping mess, trembling for him, moaning his name. Silence filled the room, your body slumped in the chair, staring down at him. You forced a lazy smile.

“What do ya wanna know?"

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 1 ~ 45

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,720ish

Summary: You and Logan officially get married.

Notes: This is the final chapter for Ending 1. I hope that y'all enjoyed it! I would love it if you continued on with Ending 2 as well! Thanks for all the support. I also had to include both of the gifs below.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

You often woke up to Logan staring at you, which you didn't mind. You knew that he had gone through a lot of traumatic experiences in his original timeline. You were just grateful that he was here and that the two of you still had so many shared memories. Though, you had yet to tell him that the memories that you didn't share with him, many you knew about. For years, you have had dreams and nightmares about you and Logan. But you knew it wasn't you and your original Logan; you knew it was you and the Logan you had met in 1973. It gave you hope that one day, everything would be made right and that Logan would be able to see that all his efforts were worth it.

Throughout the years, Hank, Charles, and you talked about the Logan you interacted with in 1973. When Logan resurfaced in 2001, the three of you had decided not to mention anything until Logan was stable with his own memories. It wasn't until just before the two of you ran off to Canada that you came clean about what had happened. At first, Logan struggled with the idea that he could be replaced but then he came to realize it was still him, and he still loved you. As long as he was loving you, that was all that mattered to him.

Logan felt like it was a miracle to wake up every morning with you in his arms. You were always asleep before him and awake after him, mainly because Logan was scared that he would close his eyes and find that this was all a dream. He didn’t want to miss a second more of being apart from you.

“Morning," you rasped as you began to wake. As usual, Logan was already up and staring at you, his hands gently holding you to ground him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replied. He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Sleep well?"

“Mhm. You?”

“With you by my side, always."

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Well, we both know that’s not true. We’ve both had our fair share of nightmares while sharing the bed. What I really want to know,” you quickly moved to straddle him, “is if you have been sleeping at all. You... woke up or came back or whatever almost two weeks ago. I know that you are still awake when I fall asleep, and you're always staring at me when I wake.”

“Staring at you? I don’t think I'd call it that, sweetheart.”

“Then what would you call it?”

"Completely in awe. Entranced. Mesmerized. Drawn to—“

You put your hand over his mouth with a laugh. "Okay, okay. I get it. But you didn't answer my concern. Have you been sleeping?”

One of Logan's hands moved to your hip while the other grabbed the wrist of your hand on his mouth. He kissed the palm of your hand before pushing his fingers through yours. “Yes, sweetheart, I've been sleeping.”

“Enough?”

Your concern warmed his heart. “Yes.”

“Any nightmares?”

“Nope.”

“Are you lying to me?”

Logan chuckled, his hands moving around to your back and pulling you down. “I’m smart enough not to lie to my wife.”

“Good.” You kissed him. “We should start wedding planning. Or at least plan a date.”

“Whenever you want.”

“So I can make all the decisions?”

“As long as you walk down the aisle to me, then that’s all that matters.”

Your heart fluttered as you looked down at Logan. You knew he had his flaws, but he was perfect in your eyes and loved you perfectly. You leaned down and kissed him. Logan's hands held you firmly against him, wanting this moment to last as long as possible. It was moments like this— the simple ones— that made everything he’d gone through in his long life worth it.

You eventually broke the kiss. “We’re getting married next week. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Like I said, darling, whenever you want. I'll be there.”

~~~

“A week?” Ororo questioned after you sat her and Jean down to discuss the wedding. "That's not much time."

"I know,” you responded. “But I can't wait any longer. I know that we already call each other husband and wife, but there's something different about making it official.”

“We can make it work,” Jean said with a smile, “as long as you are okay with everyone using their powers to make it happen.”

“Do whatever you need to.”

“And we get to take charge,” Ororo added.

“But it's my wedding.”

"We know. That's why we want it to be perfect and for you to not have to worry about anything.”

Jean reached over and rested her head on yours. “Let us do this for you. You’ve taken care of us since we both got here. It's our turn to take care of you."

You gave the two women a smile and a nod. “Alright. The two of you can handle the wedding, but I still get to choose the dress.” 

~~~

“Hank, I have a question for you.”

He stopped what he was working on in the lab and looked up at you. “Ask away.”

“I don’t have any living family, and you have been there for me since I got here. So I was wondering if you’d walk me down the aisle?”

Hank took his glasses off as he stared at you. “You want me to walk you down the aisle?” You nodded. He got up and walked over, wrapping you up in a hug. “I’d be honored.”

~~~

“Professor,” Logan greeted, stepping into the man’s office.

“Logan,” Charles replied with a smile. “Are you settling in alright?”

“I am.”

“I hear that Jean and Ororo have taken over a majority of the wedding planning."

“Y/N doesn't mind. If she’s not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Smart man. What can I help you with?"

“Y/N and I were wondering if you could perform the marriage ceremony.”

Charles smiled. “Of course. Anything for you two.”

“Thanks. And, uh, thanks for everything else.”

“You two have been through enough. You deserve the wedding you want."

“She deserves it. Whatever she wants, she gets.”

“You are a good man, Logan.”

His lip pulled up in a small smile. “Thanks, Professor.”

~~~

The mansion was buzzing with wedding excitement. Everyone was doing what they could to make sure that everything would be perfect for your and Logan’s big day. The only thing that you and Logan had to worry about was your wedding dress and his suit. The two of you had got out to get those the same day, but not together. Hank went with Logan, while Rogue went with you.

Eventually, the night before the wedding came. You were out in the garden, where everything was already set up for the next day. Chairs were neatly aligned, flowers perfectly placed, and a decorative arch stood at the end of the aisle. You walked past the chairs, your fingers grazing them as you walked up to the archway. Taking a deep breath, you allowed your nerves to come forth. You don’t know why you were nervous. The two of you already considered each other husband and wife. Maybe it was just the fact that most brides got nervous the night before their wedding.

As you stood there, you failed to notice Logan leaning against the stone wall on the backside of the archway. His arms were crossed over his chest, a small smile on his lips. Still, after all these years, you were the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Logan was so lucky to be marrying you—officially this time. He watched with loving eyes as you stood under the archway. He could read you like a book and could tell that you were nervous. He could see the small flames forming at your fingertips, telling him it was time to step in.

“You thinkin' about burning the place down?" He teased, making his presence known.

You jumped, turning to face Logan. “What?”

He pushed himself up from the wall and walked over to you. "Your fingers.”

You looked down to see the small flames. Before you could extinguish them, Logan had a hold of your wrists and held your hands up. Your breath caught at the way Logan was looking at the flames. It was pure love and admiration, no fear. You extinguished the flames, and Logan lowered your arms, though still kept a hold of your wrists.

“You out here having second thoughts?" Logan teased.

“Never," you shook your head. "I was just thinking how beautiful it all is. Our friends did a good job.”

“They did.” Logan’s hands moved from your wrists until his fingers were interlaced with yours. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Hadn’t seen you since dinner. Missed you."

You laughed at his neediness. “It’s been ten minutes.”

"Ten minutes too long, sweetheart.” 

You sighed, leaning into his chest. Logan let go of your hands so he could wrap you up in his arms. The two of you stayed like that for who knows how long, just you and him under the archway as the sunset. Peace and calm wafted over the two of you, and for the first time in a long while, the two of you let yourselves fully relax.

“Okay! Time to separate!” Jean said, coming down the aisle.

You laughed as Logan held you tighter and turned you away from Jean.

“It's a stupid tradition, Jean,” Logan grumbled. “We're already married.”

“I don't care about your opinion, Logan,” she retorted. “Y/N is sleeping in her room, and you are sleeping in yours. Then the two of you can sleep together for the rest of your long lives. Let her go, Logan.”

“Do I have any say in this?” You questioned, only to go ignored.

“Try me, Jean,” he challenged. “I’m not letting her go."

“Fine,” Jean said, “we’ll do it the hard way.”

Swiftly, Jean entered Logan's mind and forced him to let you go. He groaned, trying to fight it, but you were eventually unwrapped from his arms.

“Come on, Jean!” Logan grunted, still trying to find the mind control. “Y/N, baby, get her to stop.”

“Sorry, honey," you replied, "but this is actually something I requested. It builds suspense for tomorrow.” You leaned in and kissed him. “It’s only one night.”

“One very long night.”

You patted his chest. "You'll be fine. I'll just be next door."

“And don't think about sneaking around!” Jean said. “I have eyes everywhere tonight.”

You laughed while Logan grunted in disapproval. “I need to go.” You kissed him again. “I love you, Logan.”

“Love you, too."

You walked away. "I'll see you in the morning.”

"Yeah, see ya.”

You shook your head at his disappointment as you walked inside. Logan watched you disappear inside before he glared at Jean. She let her grip on him go.

“No funny business tonight, Logan," Jean warned, "or tomorrow until the ceremony. The two of you cannot afford any bad luck.”

"There are too many superstitions surrounding weddings,” Logan muttered.

“And we are choosing to believe in all of them. Now, go to sleep. You need your rest as well.”

~~~

You stood in front of the large mirror, looking at yourself. You were all dolled up, ready for the ceremony. The other women had left you alone so that they could take their seats and you could have a moment to breathe. When a knock sounded at the door, your head tilted in curiosity. 

“Who is it?" you asked as you carefully made your way over to the door.

“It's me,” Logan’s gruff voice sounded through the thick wooden door. “Can I come in?”

“Not a chance!” You rushed over and leaned against the door, though you knew that you couldn't actually prevent Logan from coming in if he wanted to.

"But princess—“

“I swear, Logan, if you try to come in here, I’ll burn you to a crisp.”

His chuckle pulled a smile across your lips. "Alright, darling, I won’t come in… I miss you."

“You’ll see me in a few minutes.” You could hear him lean against the door, doing what he could to get close to you. 

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t wait. I never want to sleep apart again.”

Your heart dropped. "Did you have a nightmare?” You hated it when you weren't there to comfort him. 

“No, just uneasy without you.”

“I’m sorry."

“Hey, I didn't mean to get you down, sweetheart. It’s a happy day. The greatest day. I just miss you.”

“Logan, what are you doing?” Hank was clearly unimpressed, his tone letting you know the look of disappointment that Logan was receiving. “Get out there! It's time!”

You laughed. “I’ll see you in a minute, Logan.”

“I’ll be waiting," he replied. 

You listened as Logan walked away and Hank wanted up.

“The coast is clear,” Hank told you. Peeling yourself from the door, you finally opened it. “Wow, Y/N, my dear, you look absolutely amazing.”

“Thank you, Hank,” you smiled.

“Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for fifty years.”

Hank held out his arm, and you slipped your arm through his. You let Hank guide you through the halls and out to the garden. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you watched everyone stand up and look at you. As soon as you were at the beginning of the aisle, your eyes locked on Logan. He was standing under the archway in a sleek black suit with a bow tie. His hands were clasped in front of him while his eyes were focused on you. 

The world around the two of you blurred as you became each other's sole focus while Hank guided you down the aisle. Logan swore his heart stopped at the sight of you. A smile adorned his face as tears threatened to well up in his eyes. As soon as Hank had you down the aisle, you kissed his cheek at let Logan take your hands.

“Hey, handsome," you whispered.

“You look... amazing,” Logan breathed out softly.

The two of you were barely listening to Charles, too focused on each other. You both almost missed your signs for the vows. Logan went first.

“I have been wracking my mind on what to say today,” he began. “I wanted to say something different than the first time, but I realized those vows are still true and will always be… I promise to be your partner in all things. I promise to protect you with my life. I promise to be by your side. I promise to love you with a fierceness that rivals me on the battlefield. I promise to embrace every moment with you, cherish our shared experiences, and find joy together. I promise to be your Logan, your James, your Wolverine until the end of my days. But I promise that the title I will wear the post proudly is that of your husband.” Logan looked at you, eyes shining with love and tears. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Then, it was your turn.

“Logan… I didn't know what living truly meant until I met you,” you started. “You changed my life the day we met and continue to do so. So today, I promise to continue to be your partner and biggest supporter. I promise to stick by your side through every heartache, battlefield, and moment of joy. I promise to always remind you that you are more than enough and how much I love you. James, you are my hero, my best friend, my husband. I love you.”

Logan quickly tugged you closer. He paused before he could kiss you, his lips hovering over yours.

“Wrap it up, Charles,” he mumbled.

The wedding guests laughed.

“Alright, alright," Charles chuckled. “With the authority given to by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Logan.”

Logan didn't wait another second before his lips crashed into yours. The crowd cheered. The two of you smiled as you furthered the kiss, and Logan dipped you. You were still dipped when Logan pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you, my beautiful wife.”

“I love you more, my perfect husband.”

~~~

End Notes: Again, thanks for reading! I hope you read Ending 2 as well! Please send in any reactions to this as well as what you hope to see in Ending 2. Ending 2 will cover Logan as well as Deadpool and Wolverine. So that means we'll have Wade and Laura and "Worst"!Logan.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #16

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

When the very anticipated notification comes in the form of a message saying 'I'm here', you wish you could be enthusiastic about it like yesterday when you went to sleep. Unfortunately, that was before you realized waking up at five in the morning is extremely tough. Especially for the person like you, and someone who went to sleep late even when your best friend was kind enough to remind you to go to sleep early.

Well, you were always known for going to sleep late and Jungkook seemed not to forget about that.

Stumbling out of your apartment building, you see him walking out of his car with a huge grin, probably finding your current appearance more than amusing.

"Good morning, baby. Ready for some adventure?" he jokes, wiggling his brows as he goes to hug you and places a single kiss on your temple.

"Morning." you grumble under your breath, poking him in the rib when he keeps teasing you with his doe eyes.

"God, I forgot what an early bird you are," he laughs, scrunching his nose in the process of his nonstop teasing. "Here let me take your bags." he says, reaching for the two travel bags you packed yesterday.

"Thanks." you murmur, following him to his new car.

Black Mercedes that he finally bought after speaking and dreaming about it for at least two years. You'll never forget the happy grin he had when he came to pick you up in his new car, showing you all the functions it has even though you barely understood half of what he was saying.

"Fuck, how much stuff did you pack?" he complains, opening the truck where he places your two bags next to his one.

"Just necessary stuff." you inform him, causing him to scoff in response. You notice the dark green camera bag in the truck and it sparks your interest. "Did you bring your camera?"

"Of course," he says, closing it shut as he walks to the driver side while you do the same, walking on the other side to the passenger side. "I gotta catch those memories." he says over the roof, making sure you see his sparkling eyes.

For the first time in the morning, you smile back before you make yourself comfortable in the seat, setting it into a more lying position.

"Who are we picking up?" you ask, silently admiring how silent the engine is when he turns it on and drives out of a parking lot.

The navigation already starts to give him directions, while he heads towards the main road. He looks cozy, especially in one of his black oversized hoodies and black cargo pants. You're not surprised by the choice of his outfit, especially the color. It's six in the morning and even though it's the middle of July, it's still chilly in the mornings. You're wearing one of your purple hoodies as well, matching it with some old leggings that won't be missed if you rip them.

"Jimin was supposed to take his car but it's too small to fit the rest of the gang. So they're going with Hoseok's friend's car and we're picking up some girls, plus Taehyung."

You shouldn't be surprised by the information that there are more girls coming on this camping trip. Jungkook told you that Hoseok's friends are going as well, but still, you're quite surprised by it. So far, there is no mention of Kiko and her possible attendance.

"Would you mind if I close my eyes for a few minutes?" you ask him, fumbling with your eyes as he picks up the speed.

The sky is painted light blue while there's sunrise around the corner. It creates a calm and nice view, especially when you're still tired.

"Not at all," he tells you, turning off the radio that's softly playing in the background. "You should rest till you can. Once Taehyung is here, there won't be any time to rest." he chuckles, leaving you giggling knowing he's more than right about that.

"Oh my god, I love this song!" Taehyung shouts excitedly, singing his heart out along with Harry Styles' voice booming out of Jungkook's car speakers.

Laughing, you shake your head at your friend who sounds really good but is still too loud, especially when you barely got any sleep. The ride to get Taehyung wasn't that long, it took about fifteen minutes to pick him up and he hasn't shut up since then.

Five minutes later, you picked up Hoseok's friends in front of some apartment building. When Jungkook got out of the car, he helped to load their bags into the truck as he introduced himself to them. You could barely hear their conversation but when they got into the car, sitting next to Taehyung, they introduced themselves.

Minjae and Seulgi. They both look like they're your age, while Minjae's hair is black and short and Seulgi has a high strawberry blond ponytail that frames her face.

And here you are.

They seem like nice girls, very communicative and they both warmed up to all of you quickly, despite the fact that they barely know you. It confirms your thoughts when Minjae speaks up, reacting to Taehyung singing his heart out at Harry Styles' song.

"Let me tell you, Harry Styles is so fuckable!" She comments with so much enthusiasm that it makes you and Jungkook laugh, her friend reacting by exclaiming her name in disbelief. But Minjae just shrugs her shoulders innocently and looks at her friend. "Don't tell me you wouldn't fuck him, if you could."

"I'm not saying that, but--"

"See?" she interrupts her friend, causing Seulgi to let out a groan which makes you laugh even more.

What you don't expect is Minjae, who's sitting behind you, leaning forward as she plops her head between your and Jungkook's seat. "What about you, Y/N? Wouldn't you fuck him?" she asks, wiggling her brows as you shake your head at her, a huge grin settled on your lips.

Glancing at Jungkook, he stares at the road but gives you a quick glance of curiosity before he turns his eyes back to the road. With even Taehyung finally shutting up, everyone stays quiet while they wait for your answer and it makes you mentally groan at their damn curiosity. But well, at least you can be honest when they ask.

"Fuck yeah." you answer, causing Minjae to squeal in triumph.

"Yah! Since when?" Jungkook speaks up, glancing at you for a brief moment and giving you a good glimpse of his furrowed brows.

"I don't know, he's pretty hot. Have you seen him?" you shrug innocently, smirking when Jungkook glares at you. Reaching for a water bottle beside your legs, the one Jungkook bought you, you take a gulp.

"He's not that hot." he grumbles, toning out the voices of Minjae in the back while she asks Taehyung something.

All you can hear is Taehyung's response. "They're dating."

You and Jungkook don't react, both pretending to be busy with driving and staring out of the window and admiring the trees. But you still hear Seulgi whisper a little 'wasn't he dating Kiko?' and a little gasp she lets out when Minjae nudges her shoulder and silently tells her to shut up.

Great, so they know her too.

When Jungkook told you the location of your camping trip is near a lake, you don't expect such a breathtaking view. You knew there'd be a lot of green around you, but you don't expect such an open space as you drive into the resort. The area is secured with a fence, which makes everything much safer and you don't have to worry about possible bears giving you a goodnight, which Jungkook reacted with a laugh telling you there are no bears when you shared your worries. The gateman that opens the gate for you is an older man, giving you a cheerful greeting and briefly explaining to you there's a nearby building where's the bathroom and little shop in case you might be needing or missing something. It's definitely different than you expected it to be, it's even better.

Everyone in the car shares your enthusiasm while Jungkook follows Jimin's directions he has sent him through voice message and drives through the road. Even when he parks beside white Hyundai, your mouth is agape and eyes focused on the beauty around you. There's a lake just a few meters away from you, with a spacious meadow with nearby trees and bright sky above your heads. You can notice a few people already unpacking a lot of stuff, including Jimin who's holding two unrecognizable packages of something with a frown on his face. His eyes briefly turn towards Jungkook's car and the frown disappears as he waves with the packages still in his hands. You wave back, laughing at his cuteness while you undo the seatbelt and wait for Jungkook to turn the engine off. As soon as he does that, you're getting out of the car just to be met with Jimin's crushing hug he gives you.

"You guys made it!" he exclaims happily, hugging you tighter before he pulls you away.

Smiling at him, you're reminded of how he likes spending his free time with friends. "Of course, we did." you grin, hearing the rest of them getting out of the car.

Jimin hugs Jungkook and Taehyung while he excitedly asks them about your ride and how amazing this place is. Well, you definitely agree with that. You notice Taehyung introducing Minjae and Seulgi to him, causing him to give them a polite wave which is a lot less affectionate than the hug he gave you. But you're all close, so it makes sense.

"Hey everyone!" Someone calls and you turn around, seeing Hoseok waving at all of you.

A round of greetings resounds from the group and you as well, hoping there won't be any negative memories with Hoseok. You know he apologized and he seems to be happy to see all of you, and you hope it could stay this way. When he smiles at you and urges everyone to follow him, he explains everything they've done so far.

"We've got four tents in total. We started to build it but the only one who seems to know how to do it, is Jimin so far," he chuckles, "But we need someone strong to bring wood for the fireplace from that building," he explains, pointing far away at the building. "Jungkook?" he asks, causing the younger male to nod as he gives him thumbs up.

"Great, Namjoon's going with you." he tells you, and your brows frown for a moment before you realize you don't remember anyone named Namjoon. It must be Hoseok's friend Jungkook mentioned.

Just as your curiosity starts working, a blond male appears while dusting his black sweatpants before he looks up and sees all of you. "Oh, hi." he smiles, waving at everyone while a cute dimple pokes out of his cheek and you almost squeal.

He's cute. He's wearing a black cap with some white shirt that's already dirty from the soil.

"Hey, Joon!" Minjae greets him, while Seulgi joins her and waves at their friend while they go to greet Hoseok and Namjoon with a hug.

"Joon, you already know Jungkook," Hoseok says, causing him to nod while he grins at your best friend. "This is Taehyung and Y/N." he introduces you and Namjoon waves at the both of you again, smiling at you while you do the same.

"It's nice to meet you." you smile at him.

"Likewise," he grins, "How was the ride?" he asks, eyeing everyone.

"Cool, we enjoyed the view so much!" Minjae answers.

Just as Jimin calls Taehyung to help him build a tent, while Hoseok starts to give instructions to Jungkook and how he can help, you don't notice another person coming along this trip. How could you, not until the person suddenly comes in the view holding a few packages of what seems like a marshmallow.

"Hey everyone!" she calls, but even you can tell she's trying to sound too cheerful at the sight of everyone being finally here.

Automatically, your eyes go to Jungkook who spots her and recognizes her voice immediately, his own widening at the sight of his ex-girlfriend.

"I brought these ones instead of the blue ones." she explains, her eyes shifting to Hoseok who nods.

"That's fine! These ones are better anyway," he waves, causing her to nod as she places the packages at the top of some plastic box.

Hoseok goes back to talking to Jungkook who nods understandably, but you know he's just trying not stare at Kiko who occupies herself with helping Minjae and Seulgi, trying to build a tent by themselves.

"Y/N, right?" You hear a few meters away from you, Namjoon glancing at you with the same friendly smile. You nod, smiling back at him politely. "Can you help me with this one?" he asks, trying to figure out which part of the tent is right.

"I don't think I'll be much help, but I can try." you joke, already walking towards him.

"That makes two of us." he jokes back, causing you to giggle.

Maybe this camping trip won't be as tense as you expected it to be. It's definitely awkward seeing Kiko here as well, but everyone seems to be cool and chill about the fact two exes are about to spend their weekend together.

But are you and Jungkook going to be?