#but it never fails to pass me how much work it took. AND takes to maintain it

[devixncy]

could you do a dae ho fic please? Like the reader was a barista he has a crush on but never had the courage to ask out previously to the games. And then once they get into the games he protects her and she reveals she always found him cute as well. Thanks :)

so, i may have gotten carried away while writing this one. pretty sure i typed out wayyy too many unnecessary details oops! (but i can't help it i'm sorry). anyways, i love dae-ho so so much like <3333 such a cutie

✧ pairing: kang dae-ho x fem!reader

✧ summary: dae-ho happened to be a regular at the cafe you worked at as a barista, and you had started to grow feelings for him over time. when you find yourself in the games, he ends up there as well and ultimately saves your life. fearing for your life and the fear of the unknown leads to late night confessions.

✧ content: typical squid game violence, mentions of death, i think that's it. literally just straight fluff

✧ word count: 4.8k

Your life was quiet, but you enjoyed it that way. Being a barista was the perfect job for you, it was relaxing and there was nothing you loved more than interacting with customers, especially the regulars. Unfortunately, while you loved your job, it wasn’t enough. You lived in a cramped apartment that was cozy, but your job just barely covered the rent. On top of that, you couldn’t cover your debt. You were swimming in debt, trying your hardest to help pay for your younger sister's medical bills. She was ill, and constant hospital trips and stays started building up fast. It was just the two of you, your parents having passed a few years prior. You would do anything for your sister, but having the loan sharks breathing down your neck constantly was beginning to drive you insane. You needed more money and fast.

Lost in thought, you absentmindedly drew shapes into the counter with your fingernail. The cafe was quite slow, but with the gloominess and light drizzle outside, it made sense. The bell above the door rang, signaling that someone had entered. Looking up, you immediately began to smile. One of your favorite regulars, Dae-ho, had stepped inside.

His eyes immediately met yours and he smiled at you, making your heart flutter. Dae-ho was the most kind, genuine soul you had ever met. He never failed to light up your day, even just by being in his presence. He truly was a gentleman, most likely thanks to growing up with four sisters.

“Just the usual?” You asked as he walked up to the counter.

“What, no ‘hello Dae-ho, how are you’?” He asked teasingly as you rolled your eyes.

“Hello Dae-ho, how are you?” You feigned annoyance, however you truly did want to know how he was doing. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t developed a crush on the man in front of you. He was incredibly sweet to you (and incredibly handsome), so how could you not fall for him?

“I’m great, (Y/N). And yes, I’ll take my usual.” The grin on his face was contagious, and you smiled, nodding as you began to make his order. He was a man of simple taste, ordering an Americano every time he came in. While you made it (and grabbed him a free pastry), you could hear him ask how you were doing.

“Oh, you know. Same shit different day. Just trying to get by,” You replied as you snapped the lid on his drink. Turning around, you slid it across the counter along with the bagged pastry. Dae-ho furrowed his brows at the sight of the pastry, looking at you questioningly. You shook your head before he could say anything. “Just take it, Dae. It’s on me.”

His cheeks turned a little pink at the sound of the nickname, but he nodded gratefully. He placed his money for the coffee in your hand, your skin tingling as his fingers brushed yours. You took the money and put it in the register, handing him back his change. Of course, he took his change and put it in your tip jar.

Before he picked up his items, he looked at you as you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were so full of life, the smile on your lips making his heart thud. But he could see the exhaustion in your face, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Without thinking, he leaned over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed against your jaw gently. Eyes wide, you looked at him, cheeks starting to burn. He smiled softly, dropping his hand and picking up his coffee and pastry.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked, even though he knew your work schedule like the back of his hand. You nodded, still dazed, as he chuckled and walked off with a small wave.

Once outside the shop, he cursed to himself. Oh, how he wishes he were bold enough to ask you out. Every time he thought he could do it, he backed out, fearing rejection. He didn’t want to mess up the friendship the two of you had. One day, he promised himself.

— Once you had closed up shop for the day, you locked the doors to the caf�� and headed towards the subway.

You sat down on a bench, placing your bag directly next to you. While you waited, you stared at the ground in front of you as you absentmindedly picked at your cuticles. When you weren’t working and keeping yourself distracted, the stress started to take over.

Your body tensed as someone sat next to you. Turning your head, you saw a man dressed in a nice suit, a briefcase by his side. Sighing, you scooted away a little bit more. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m definitely not interested.”

“I’m not selling anything. In fact, I would like to let you in on a great opportunity. Would you like to play a game with me?”

You frowned, confusion evident on your face. A game? Seriously? Turning towards him, you studied him for a moment. Something about this man was off putting. As you were about to open your mouth to decline his offer, he opened up a briefcase. The words died on your tongue as you saw the stacks of money.

“I’m sure you’ve played ddakji before, yes?” He asked as he picked up the red and blue squares. You nodded slowly. “Play a few games with me. And each time you win, I’ll pay you a 100,000 won.”

You stared at the money as you pondered. You needed this. A couple games of ddakji couldn’t hurt, right?

And you played. You had won most of the rounds, earning a couple of slaps in the face when you didn’t. By the time the game was over, you had accumulated a decent amount of money. Of course, not nearly enough to cover what you needed it for. As you sat there counting the money, the salesman began to speak.

“You know, miss. There are more games like this where you can win even more.”

You paused, looking up at him. It sounded too good to be true. As you were going to decline, he began to list all of your personal information. He knew your name, your occupation, the amount of debt you had accumulated. Your mouth dropped, unable to get a word out. He smiled smugly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. He handed it to you, and you snatched it.

“We don’t have many spots left.”

Those words resonated with you as you sat in your apartment. Taking a deep breath, you called the number on the back of the card.

“Do you wish to participate in the game? If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate.”

Next thing you knew, you were standing on a street corner in the dark. You rocked back and forth on your heels anxiously as you waited. Soon enough, a car pulled up next to you, rolling down the window. A masked person donning a pink suit turned his head in your direction.

“Ms. (Full name)?”

You nodded, following up with the password they had given you over the phone. The back door slid open and you climbed in, noticing the other people in the seats who were seemingly asleep. You shook off the uneasiness, trying to get comfortable in the seat. Seconds later, steam began to fill the car, making you cough. And then the world went dark.

~

When you awoke, your brain felt fogged and you were incredibly groggy. You screwed your eyes shut as the overhead lights threatened to blind you. Classical music filled your ears, and you groaned as you sat up. Opening your eyes, you scanned your surroundings. Numerous people were getting out of their beds, all wearing the same green tracksuit with numbers plastered on the back. Quickly looking down, you saw that you wore the same thing. Then you noticed your number in bold white, 301. You got out of the bed, making your way down the stairs the same way everyone else was. As you were taking it all in, the doors at the front of the room underneath the screen opened. Multiple masked figures stepped out, walking forward. The one in the front began speaking.

“I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. Everyone here will participate in six games over the course of six days. Those who win will receive a handsome cash prize.”

Players began to speak up. All made good points, and you agreed that you all being basically kidnapped and the masked guards were a little strange.

Then, you gasped as multiple players were shown on screen playing the game of ddakji, announcing their names and how much debt they were in. Thankfully, your name didn’t come up.

When it came time, you got in line and signed the consent form. You didn’t bother reading it, you were just here to play some games after all. You were sure it was just some dumb fine print that didn’t really mean anything.

Soon enough, yourself and all of the other players filed into a multi-colored room. There were stairs leading up, and as you looked around you noticed multiple guards stationed in different spots. Shaking off your unease, you stepped up to the photo booth and turned to face the camera. Upon hearing the ‘smile!’, you mustered up a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“The first game will begin momentarily. After having your picture taken, follow the staff’s instructions and proceed to the game site.”

You followed behind the other players up the stairs, coming up to a large door where everyone was filing into.

“Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field.”

You entered the large clearing in front of you, squinting as the sunlight hit your eyes. As your eyes adjusted, you looked around at the four large walls and the comically large doll with the tree directly ahead. There were two guards standing on either side of it.

Suddenly, the three large doors slammed shut behind you with a loud clank. You gasped and turned around, as did many others.

“The first game is Red Light, Green Light. Cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. If you do, you pass.”

Suddenly, someone pushed past you to get to the front of the group. He seemed frantic, turning towards everyone.

“Everyone!” he shouted, waving his arms in the air. He had your full attention now. “Everyone listen up, pay attention!”

“This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!”

Your breath caught in your throat. There’s no way he was serious, right? How could you possibly die playing a children’s game? Others seemed to think the same thing, as someone asked him what the hell he was talking about. “We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” someone asked with a scoff.

“Yes, that’s right! If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere! Stay on your toes. That doll’s eyes are motion detectors!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, no one seeming to take his word for it. Many were voicing their thoughts that this was just some ploy to get all of the money for himself.

“You have to believe me!” His voice was laced with desperation. As he finished his sentence, the doll began to whir to life, turning to face the tree. Its arm raised up, placed against the tree. The man, player 456, whirled around, panic evident in his movements.

“Do not be alarmed or panic! No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!”

Your heart began to hammer in your chest. Something in your gut told you to believe him. He seemed way too genuine to be making this all up.

“Let the game begin.”

The timer across the room flickered to life, displaying a red five minute timer.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to move forward, freezing as the doll whirled back around and player 456 held up his hands. “Freeze!” He yelled out. Everyone stayed as still as a statue.

“Well done! You just need to stay calm like this!”

Once the doll turned again, you started to run forward, freezing again moments later. The doll's head turned, its eyes calculating everyone’s movement. Player 456 continued to yell out instructions, and so far everyone seemed to be listening despite calling him crazy.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to run forward again, stopping dead in your tracks along with everyone else. This continued successfully for a couple of cycles. For a moment though, while you were all paused, someone began to scream. Yourself and many others side eyed the girl in shock.

“Crap. I just moved.” And with that, moments later, a gunshot rang out. Your eyes widened, unmoving, but terrified.

“NOBODY MOVE!! You must not move!” Player 456 shouted frantically, not wanting panic to ensue. Unfortunately, it was far too late for that. Multiple gunshots began to follow the first, people dropping around you left and right. Blood began to cover the field. It seemed non-stop. Your body began to tremble, feeling nauseous as the chaos unfolded around you. Player 456 was screaming at this point, trying to save everyone that he could.

“Let me repeat. You can move forward while the tagger shouts ‘Green light, red light’. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

After the announcement, the game resumed. This time, nobody dared to move from their spot. Once the green light was given again, the only person to move was player 456. And then again, he was the only one to move. Everybody was glued to their spot, too terrified to move. He began to shout instructions again, telling everyone to get behind someone bigger than you. That’s exactly what you did at the next cycle, getting behind players 120 and 124. You stayed close behind as they moved forward, trying to make sure your movement was minimal. This continued until you were almost at the finish line.

“LETS GO!” Player 456 screamed, everyone beginning to push forward as fast as they could. You did the exact same, until your foot slipped as you were trying to come to a stop. Fear coursed through your body as the ground got closer, the doll about to turn around. Everything was moving in slow motion. This was it, this was how you were going to die. Your eyes screwed shut, waiting for the impact from the ground and the bullet. Suddenly, though, you weren’t moving anymore. The back of your jacket was held tightly by somebody behind you, right as the doll said red light and turned. Your eyes flew open in shock, not daring to move a muscle. It was the longest moment of your entire life, praying whoever had their grip on your jacket didn’t lose it. As soon as the doll turned back around, whoever was behind you instantly pulled you back up. Your arm was grabbed and you were hastily pulled towards the red line, being shoved over it as the doll said red light. You stumbled and fell to your hands and knees, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath. Then you paused, whipping around to see who it was.

And there he was, standing mere inches from the finish line. You stared at him, mouth agape. Dae-ho was standing right in front of you, the number 388 plastered to his jacket. Your heart thudded in your chest, your ears ringing. You couldn’t even process it, that he was in this mess just like you were. Moments later, he crossed the line, running straight to you. He crouched down next to you, gripping your face in his hands like he was making sure you were real. Your lips parted, but words refused to come out. He had just saved your life and there you sat trembling like a leaf, not even able to muster a ‘thank you’. However, he didn’t say anything either. His eyes said it all. He was completely terrified.

“Dae-ho…” You whispered, your voice shaking. Before he could respond, everyone’s heads shot up towards the sky. A retractable roof was closing over the top of the arena, closing you all in like animals in a cage.

Before he could say anything, you were all being herded back to the main room. The guards gave you no time to process anything, forcing you to get moving. Dae-ho stayed right next to you, a gentle grip on your upper arm. The atmosphere entering back into the main room was dark, the obscene amount of death and bloodshed looming over everyone’s head like a dark cloud. You sat next to Dae-ho, silent as a mouse. Everyone was silent. What could possibly be said after what you had all just witnessed? Your gaze bore into the ground in front of you, knees tucked into your chest with your arms wrapped around them. Dae-ho was lost in thought, his side pressed up against yours. The touch kept you somewhat grounded, though just barely.

Suddenly, the bright overhead lights flickered to life and the door opened. Everyone's attention turned towards the guards that stepped into the room. Upon seeing them, everybody scrambled back further, clearly terrified. You were no exception, pushing yourself backwards up the stairs behind you. Dae-ho did the same, a protective grip around your body.

“Congratulations for making it through the first game. Here are the results from the first game.” The board above them began to change, the number 456 changing to 365.

More chaos began to ensue. People begging for their lives, the promise of a fair voting process. The voting process was anything but smooth, tensions beginning to rise between the players. You chose X with no hesitation. While you needed the money, you had to be there for your sister. You couldn’t help her, the only family she had left, if you were dead. Dae-ho had voted X as well, much to your relief. Unfortunately, your relief was short lived, as you lost the vote to leave by one. You were devastated, wanting nothing more than to curl up and cry. Showing weakness may not be the greatest idea, though. Not in a place like this.

Once it was meal time, you sat on the stairs with your tin of food in one hand and water bottle in the other. You had zero appetite. Dae-ho, who was sitting next to you, wasted no time in digging into his. You turned your head towards him and he paused.

“What?” He asked halfway through shoveling food into his mouth. You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You need to eat something too, (Y/N). You can’t let yourself go hungry, gotta retain your strength. Here,” He said, scooping some of his onto his spoon and putting it up to your mouth. Your lips tightened into a thin line, silently refusing. He frowned. “I’m serious-”

“What are you even doing here, Dae-ho?” You cut him off, turning towards him a little more. He swallowed, frown still on his face.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His tone was completely serious now, setting his tin down next to him. You set yours down as well, refusing to meet his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both in this mess, and now we both have to somehow make it out alive.” You hoped you didn’t come off as hopeless as you felt. Dae-ho decided not to press any further. He nodded in agreement. There was nothing the two of you could do about it now.

“We’re going to get out of here, you and I. Together. I swear to you,” He grabbed your hands in his, running his thumb across your knuckles. That was his typical positive attitude coming out. You sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “Now come on. I was serious before, you need to at least try to eat.” He said, his usual grin returning to his face. You couldn’t help it, your lips twitched up into a smile. If it were possible, his smile got even wider, gently pinching your cheek with his fingers. “Aha! There’s that smile that I know and love.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a light shove. He laughed, and you gave in, picking up your tin. You ate in small bites, finally realizing how hungry you truly were. Dae-ho resumed eating, scarfing his down before you were even a third of the way done with yours. He patiently waited until you were finished with yours, taking your tin from you and setting it aside.

After meal time, you and Dae-ho had begun conversing with player 456 and player 399 who were nearby. As it turns out, player 399 whose name you found out to be Jung-bae, was a former marine just like Dae-ho. They saluted each other, their interactions causing you to giggle, letting some of the tension leave your body. Dae-ho’s eyes lit up at the sound, warmth spreading through his body. The rest of the night went as smoothly as it could save for the scuffle that occurred between players 230, 124, 333 and 001.

Then, it was time for lights out. Most players were fast asleep, but you laid in your bed, staring up at the glowing piggy bank. Alone with your thoughts, your mind was racing. There was no way you could sleep. Your head was pounding and you sighed as you turned onto your side. Lucky for you, Dae-ho’s bed was right next to yours. Realistically, he had claimed it as soon as he saw it was empty, assuming the person who was there previously was eliminated. From what you could tell, he was fast asleep. However you really needed some company and reassurance at the moment.

“Dae,” You whispered. He didn’t budge. Of course, you thought as you rolled your eyes. He would be a heavy sleeper. “Dae-ho!” You whisper-shouted, hoping you didn’t have to say it again. Thankfully, you saw him starting to stir. His eyes fluttered open, opening completely as he realized it was you who had awoken him. Quickly, he sat up.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He whispered, concern gracing his features. You shook your head, starting to feel a little silly for waking him.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up. You can go back to sleep.” You whispered back, realizing he was probably exhausted.

He shook his head, getting up from his bed and coming over to yours. He knelt down next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt pitiful.

“Will you lay with me?” Your voice came out as barely a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear. His heart skipped a beat, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Of course, love. Scoot over.”

You blushed at the nickname but immediately moved over to make room for him. Without hesitation, he hopped into your bed, laying on his side so that he was facing you. He cupped your face gently, running his thumb over your cheekbone. You didn’t say anything, but he read you like a book. “What’s wrong?”

You could feel a lump forming at the back of your throat, and you stared into his eyes. Truth be told, you were so terrified. This was a fear you had never felt before in your life. If it wasn’t for the man next to you, you wouldn’t even be alive. How did you go from casually flirting with each other in the coffee shop, not a care in the world, to arriving at death’s door together? Tears burned at the back of your eyes, threatening to come to the surface.

“I’m scared, Dae-ho. I’m so scared,” Your voice cracked, tears spilling over your eyes slowly. Dae-ho was quick to wipe them away, his heart breaking. “I just wanted to save my sister. I thought that if I joined the games and won some money, I could take the stress off of both of us. I wouldn’t have to worry about the medical bills, or the loan sharks, or anything. I would be able to work without having the weight of the world on my shoulders, and it would just be us in the cafe, and nothing else would matter. You and my sister were the only things keeping me going, and now you and I are both here and one or both of us could die.” You cried quietly as Dae-ho looked at you sadly. He pulled you into his chest, shushing you as you wept into his shirt. He let you cry it out, not saying anything as he rubbed your back. Eventually, when you became silent, he pulled back so he could look at your face. Your eyes were red, cheeks tear streaked.

“(Y/N), listen to me. As long as we’re in here together, I won’t let anything happen to you. Truly, you’re the light of my life and if something happened to you I don’t think I could forgive myself. You’re my anchor, especially in a place like this. I have something here to keep me going, you know?” He murmured. You sniffled and nodded, but he kept going. “The moment I saw you in that cafe I knew I was in trouble. I thought you were the most perfect thing to grace this earth, and if I wasn’t so stupid, I would’ve asked you out a long time ago.”

Your eyes widened at that, looking at him as he smiled at you. “You really mean that?” Your pulse quickened at the confession.

“Every word,” He chuckled as he drew shapes into the fabric of your jacket. “This is gonna be awkward for me if you don’t feel the same.” At that, you gave him a light shove and he laughed.

“Of course I feel the same, you idiot. Why do you think you were getting so many free pastries?” You joked, then became serious. “Seriously though, Dae-ho. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. I wish you would’ve asked me out a long time ago, I’ve had a giant crush on you for a while now. I thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious,” you rolled your eyes at that. “I was just too scared to do something about it. I didn��t wanna mess anything up between us. And now here we are, in the worst possible situation, and I’m finally confessing this to you.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes as he thought about the circumstances. “How about when we get out of here, I take you out on a date, yeah? We’ll go somewhere nice with my share of the money.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, Dae-ho. As long as I’m with you it doesn’t matter,” You said sincerely, a small smile gracing your lips. “But I would love to.”

He grinned at that, his entire face lighting up. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You grabbed one of his hands and he gave it a gentle squeeze. To his surprise, you craned your neck up and placed your lips directly onto his. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you could feel him smile against your lips as he moved his free hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He pulled away after a few moments, before leaning back down and placing another quick peck to your lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.” He teased, excitement present in his voice. You giggled, feeling over the moon with happiness even if it was just for a moment. Dae-ho shifted to lay flat on his back, pulling you with him. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He had his arm around you and you threw your leg over the top of his, making yourself comfortable

“Thank you for saving my life earlier.” You spoke quietly as you wrapped your arm around him, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest. He was quiet for a moment.

“I would do it all over again. I’m not leaving your side so long as we’re still playing these games.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear, shutting your eyes as you finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber as you could feel him pull the blanket over the two of you. For the first time in a while, your body felt at ease. You felt safe, like there was nothing in the world that could harm you. Even if it was just for the night.

[joelsgoldrush]

“epiphany” | 21k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

OR What happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ strangers to lovers. drinking. cursing. slow burn. angst. pining. mentions of alcohol. fluff. reflecting on the art of writing/poems/books. dual POV. takes place after the events of “deadpool & wolverine”. TW: multiple descriptions of scars. worst/variant!logan. implied age gap (reader’s in her late 20s). they’re both touch starved. wade’s everyone’s friend. miscommunication/misunderstandings. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering, grinding. some slight hair pulling. unprotected p in v, creampie. sex with feelings.

A/N: HOPELESS ROMANTICS RISE! here we go again with another long ass fic. this is a soulmates AU in which you get your soulmate’s scars. if you feel triggered by this topic, please refrain from reading. i had a lot of fun writing this even though it took me a while to get it done. thanks to @lubdubology for being my beta and allowing me to share my work with you. and also thanks to @brushworth for giving me the chance to write this. having said this, enjoy the story! i’d love to know your thoughts on it <3

Love giveth and love taketh away.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

If it weren’t for love, you wouldn’t be here. No one would, actually. Human beings are the result of billions of people who loved each other just enough—or at least long enough to bring life into the world.

But isn’t it in the name of love that people act in bad faith? Why would something so pure be used in vain?

You don’t get it, but as the years go by, you slowly come to terms with the idea that perhaps you never will. Not because there isn’t a reason, but because you’re in love with the idea of love.

How could you not be? It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up.

Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

It had always been a relentless race, your only worry being to catch it before time ran out. But with each day that passed, the finish line only stretched further and further away. Now, they all blur together, to the point where you live and breathe on autopilot. 

In a Jane Austen novel, you’d be considered a lone woman. That character who’s nice, and kind, and loved by some, but not in the way she yearns for. Every time she’s mentioned, you go “Oh, the poor girl,” until the slow realization dawns.

In reality, she’s you, and it’s you who you feel sorry for, not a fictional character. You.

All in all, love giveth. And love also taketh away. 

Love maketh you miserable.

Soulmates—a nine-letter word that holds so much meaning.

It’s one of those words that you learn early in your life, one you hear at home or on the TV. Your parents never fail to mention it if given the chance. The first time you’re introduced to the topic is at school when you're older, a bit more self-conscious, and no longer preoccupied with picking your nose.

“Everybody has a soulmate. And no,” your teacher had added after a pause, already anticipating the inevitable questions from any curious 10-year-old, “there isn’t such a thing as not having one. We all do. You just have to search for them.”

Back then, that had been your favorite game—always keeping an eye open, scanning the crowd more than once in new places. You knew for sure that more than one person probably thought you’d strained your neck from all the times you glanced over your shoulder.

It must be pretty obvious now, the fact that you’re—well, alone. Saying ‘without a companion’ sounds quite outdated. They can’t see through you, but something in the way you walk or speak must give it away. 

Or is it the fact that you always ask for a table for one?

“Are you expecting someone else?” A waitress approaches you, her tone gentle as she makes sure you’re on your own. A small notebook dangles from her slender fingers, and your eyes catch the name stitched onto her apron: Emily.

The response you give her is on the verge of sounding automatic, robotic even, like one of those prerecorded messages busy people leave on their phones. “No. Just me.”

She nods, and you feel the sympathy in her gaze. You’ve mastered the art of recognizing that look—the one hovering between concern and pity.

Of course, people rarely voice it, but they’ll never know their eyes sometimes say more than they think.

As she jots down your order, you’re met with the ring on her left hand. Very pretty, very shiny. Very expensive as well. Your attention must linger on it a little too long, because she catches you staring, making you feel exposed.

Emily—you decide to call her that way from now on, because once you know her name, it feels odd to address her as the waitress—offers you a shy smile.

“I’m getting married next month,” she blurts out, happiness radiating from her pores. Her eyes glint like two lanterns in a starless night. She also looks younger than you, and the abrupt silence forces you to pinch your wrist, a reminder of the fact that this is a conversation, and not just something you're overhearing.

“Congratulations,” you manage to reply, returning the smile. If she saw how your expression faltered the second she walked away, you wonder if she’d still think you were so amiable.

Sometimes, your façade slips—you can’t help it. That’s what the ‘hopeless’ in ‘hopeless romantic’ stands for.

Some minutes later, she comes back with your coffee, and you catch another glimpse of the ring as it twinkles in front of you. Envy doesn’t suit you, so you shift your focus.

Taking out your laptop, you scroll through the latest headlines. This is your attempt at acting more like an adult and less like a girl in her mid-twenties who has no clue what she’s doing.

One article stands out from the rest: Hollywood Actress Divorces Loving Husband of 25 Years to Pursue Presumed Soulmate. “I saw his scars and knew he was the one.”

Interesting. You can’t help but feel sorry for the displaced husband, though.

“Good for you,” you mutter under your breath, clicking the link to read more. There’s a picture of the actress and her new boyfriend that makes you stop dead in your tracks: they’re smiling at each other, their faces close, noses almost touching, while they show off their matching scars—the unmistakable sign that they’re, in fact, soulmates.

Soulmates, superheroes, mutants. It all sounds like a whole lot, doesn’t it? Overwhelming, to say the least. One thing’s for sure—you’ll never get bored in this world.

But, hey! Don’t forget that there are multiple universes out there. Maybe in one of them, you’re not this pathetic.

Why are you being so hard on yourself? That’s not even the point. Shaking your head, you keep glancing at their scars—they’re identical, perfect mirrors of one another. The kind of scars that only two destined souls share.

Their happiness is evident, tangible. You can feel it by just eyeing the image. It’s a bitter sensation that metamorphoses into a warmth, which heavily spreads through your chest, filling up every empty space it finds. 

To say you understand that feeling would be a downright lie. And you may be many things, but a pathological liar is not one of them.

As if on cue, you duck your head, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket. You do the same with your shirt, foolishly hoping to find something other than smooth, unmarked skin.

No scars. No marks. No sign of a soulmate, of a lover. In the world you inhabit—this universe full of the most inexplicable things—you’re alone. 

Without a second thought, you pack your things, shoving them rapidly into your bag. The cafe feels too little and too large all at once, the walls closing on you.

The rest of the customers are looking at you. Fuck, they already noticed it—you can’t escape it.

Have they? Do you think they see you like you see yourself? The lone woman who writes poems for an addressee who will never read them?

In silence, you hand Emily the money for your coffee. You fear that if you open your mouth, a cry will come out, and that’s the last thing you need today. She gives you that look again—pity laced with sorrow, the one you despise. It burns.

At that moment, a man walks in, passing right by you. You see his face, his green eyes, and the way his lips curl into a grin as he greets Emily.

The scar on her forehead, which you'd missed before, mirrors the one on his.

They are soulmates. 

It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is.

She wishes you a nice morning as you leave the cafe. Little does she know you’ll spend the rest of the day locked in your apartment, mourning someone you never even met.

Until the day you lost them, you wore your scars with pride.

They were scattered across your stomach, back, chest, and even your legs and arms. Some were shallow, others deep. It never occurred to you—the thought that they belonged in the shadows, hidden.

Everyone has them, you thought as you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers along their jagged paths. I just seem to have more than most people.

Over the years, you might have changed your hairstyle or the way you dressed, but your scars never did—they’d always been there, and they were yours.

Partly yours, of course, since you knew they belonged to your soulmate as well.

The older you grew, the more you realized having a good memory was both a gift and a curse. You still remembered that moment so vividly—when you found out that somebody out there was meant for you and only you.

A point of no return, that’s what it’d been. From that day on, not a single one went by without you imagining the first encounter with your Prince Charming. 

In the meantime, you dated. A few boyfriends came and went during and after high school, mostly as practice for the real thing, you’d told yourself.

God, you were determined to know everything. To be the best girlfriend ever, so that when you finally met him, he’d be over the moon.

At the age of seventeen, it sounded like a brilliant plan.

You never knew how, but your life became that meantime. All your friends began to find their soulmates: in the supermarket, while traveling, at the goddamn doctor’s office.

Everybody was fulfilling the purpose you’d been taught humans were made for—everyone but you.

The scars multiplied, yet he was nowhere to be seen, remaining out of reach. Your soulmate’s whereabouts were a mystery. What the hell does he do in his free time? was something you used to often ponder. Is he suffering? Does he need help?

“Be patient, give it some time. The less you seek, the more you’ll find,” your mother would say, trying to sound encouraging. Although she was trying to do her best, that phrase alone had the power to make you go nuts.

Be patient? Waiting was all you’d been doing. What was so wrong with you that he seemed to be hiding from you? You didn’t want to wait any longer, no—you wanted to find him. If it meant traveling to Italy like your cousin had to meet her husband, then so fucking be it.

Many nights, sleep eluded you. Lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling, you’d imagine what life with him would be like. What he would look like. You were certain that no matter his appearance, you’d think he was beautiful.

Wasn’t that the whole point of soulmates—that the bond you two shared transcended physical attraction?

Nevertheless, you secretly wished he’d have brown hair. He didn’t need to know, but you had a weakness for brunettes.

On the night of your twenty-second birthday, you were getting ready for the big event when every trace of your scars disappeared.

The bathroom mirror was fogged from the shower’s stream, and as you wiped it clean with the palm of your hand, the image you saw reflected on the glass made your stomach do a flip.

There were no scars. No marks. Nothing. At first, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you—it couldn’t be. Scars didn’t just vanish. It was impossible.

But as you lowered your gaze, tracing your limbs again and again, the truth hit you. The marks you knew by heart, the ones that reminded you, He’s out there, somewhere, were gone.

You felt it deep in your chest, too. Every sound seemed louder and clearer: the blood rushing through your veins, each shaky breath you took. Where are they? Your fingers dug into your flesh, intending to ground yourself.

Is he… dead? It was the only reasonable explanation, the rule you’d known all along. You’d read it countless times, memorizing the principles about scars.

The scream that tore from your throat brought your mother running upstairs, and she entered the bathroom with a horrified expression on her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked, but your mind was already far away. Your whole body shuddered in her arms, a sob slipping past your lips as you crumbled to the floor, desperately hoping it was all a nightmare. “It must be a mistake, honey. I’m sure he’s okay.”

But he’s not, you wanted to tell her. The words, however, never formed—only a broken whimper escaped your lips. Isn’t that what we were taught? Our scars belong to our soulmates; they bind us to them in a way that simple words can’t explain.

It goes deeper than the skin. It delves into our bodies, our minds, reaching into the very essence of who we are. What was once his is also mine, but they’re gone.

He’s gone. He must be, because otherwise, how would you explain this void?

When one’s soulmate passes away, that person will notice the disappearance of their scars. The physical marks that once symbolized their connection fade, leaving no trace. This absence is accompanied by a distinct, unsettling sensation—an awareness of loss that goes beyond the physical, signaling the end of the bond.

A part of you died with him that day.

The first time you exchanged words with Wade Wilson, you thought he was a total dick.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know him—not when he was so infamous for that mouth of his. Deadpool: the self-proclaimed superhero with a vocabulary that was 90% profanity, who made cracking jokes while fighting the bad guys look easy.

Super funny? Sure. But not exactly your cup of tea when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and forget the world existed.

He was apparently long retired from superheroing. No one had seen that red, sex-toy-looking suit in ages, which was why you were only mildly surprised as you spotted him hauling boxes into your building on a Tuesday afternoon.

It was late, and you weren’t in the mood for small talk. He’d been there barely a week, yet somehow, he’d already managed to fuck things up. 

You let out a deep sigh, rubbing the crease between your brows. “Look, Wally—”

“It’s pronounced Wade,” he corrected you, trying to edge his face further into the gap between the door and its frame, though you didn’t let your guard down. “You’re pretty rude, you know that?”

“I’ve been up for twenty-four hours, and I need to sleep,” you groaned, trying to push him away with one hand. Technically, he wasn’t even asking for something that complicated—he wanted to use your microwave to heat his dinner, since his had decided to stop working out of the blue.

The thing was that you’d had the kind of week that felt like a one-way trip to hell, an important detail he wasn’t aware of. “Go ask someone else. I can’t do charity tonight.”

“You’re the only one who answered,” he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lips curling into a heartbreaking pout. “Please, my lovely neighbor, whose name I don’t know. You wouldn’t want me to starve to death, would you?

“I thought you couldn’t die.” You raised an eyebrow, half-interested.

Wade’s arms dropped to his sides, his eyes drifting downward. “And I thought kindness wasn’t extinct, but here we are.” He spun on his heel, acting defeated and dragging his feet like a scolded puppy. “Can’t believe this is what the world’s come to. I’m sure the Bible says something about treating others how you’d want to be treated.”

Why. Just… why? Some cosmic, divine force from beyond might have been testing you that night.

“Wait,” you croaked just as he was about to step into his apartment—which was literally three meters from yours. His face lit up, expecting you to continue, and you moved aside slightly, signaling him in. “Five minutes and you’re out, okay? I really need to get some rest.”

The rest was history. Wade was just standing there, mesmerized by your microwave as if he’d never seen one before.

You could only hear the faint buzzing sound of the gadget, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the counter. He was humming a tune while shaking his head to the beat.

You tried to focus, replaying the guided meditation you sometimes followed to sleep in your mind.

Allow yourself to feel the stillness of this moment. Notice your breath slowing as your body begins to calm. Be the observer of your breath, flowing in and out naturally, as your lungs—

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

“Please, stop it,” you eventually told Wade, whose gaze shifted from the microwave to you, brows furrowed.

“And why’s that?”

“They say it’s bad for your eyes,” you explained, recalling a half-forgotten news report you’d heard on the TV. Whether it was a myth or not, you’d never know. “I believe it’s because of the radiation exposure.”

Leaning back on the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. “At this point, I think I’m safe. You, on the other hand… maybe not so much,” he nearly whispered that last part, and your desire to strangle him grew stronger.

Save me, mindfulness, you thought to yourself.

He jerked his thumb toward the pile of papers and books you had on your kitchen table. “So, you’re a writer?” 

“Editor, in reality,” you snapped, your eyelids twitching as you watched him leaf through your stuff. “Wade, don’t touch my things.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself. I’m very curious.” Flashing you a quick grin, he opened your notebook, squinting his eyes as he went through the pages. “But you write too, huh? I’m discovering plenty of material here.”

The bastard. “Give. It. Back,” you snarled, lunging at him and trying to snatch the notebook from his hands, but he was faster, raising it out of reach. “I hope your food explodes in that microwave, asshole.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about it,” he snorted, tossing the notebook onto the couch and retrieving his dinner instead. You stared at him in disbelief, opening your mouth to scold him, but nothing came out. Then, there he was, standing in front of you with his plate and a fork.

Wait. Was that your fork?

“It’s hot, I’ll give you that.” He blew on his food to cool it down, and as he glanced up, he was met with your murderous glare. “Whoa. Want some? You could’ve just asked me. No need to get so angry.”

Calling it a desire to kill him would’ve been an understatement. And the worst part? He couldn’t die. “You’ve got what you needed. Now, can you leave?”

“How long’s it been since you talked to another human being?”

You blinked, feeling the sudden urge to look around, half expecting a hidden camera. “Why do you always answer with another question?”

“All I’m saying is I’ve been meaning to talk to you for days now, but you’re practically living the hermit life,” he said between bites of chicken, excusing himself briefly to chew. “That robe you’re wearing? It’s had the same stain on it since I moved in. Also, your doormat’s buried under a mountain of newspapers, so either you really love trees, or you’ve been avoiding any sort of social interaction.”

If he had been wrong, you would’ve felt much better. But he… wasn’t, and it sucked.

“I feel like I should be scared,” you mumbled after a long stretch of silence, your eyes going round.

Wade did no more than laugh at your troubled expression. “Scared of me? That’s cute. I’m a nice guy, sweet pea. Persistent, sure, but I’ve got a knack for getting under people’s skin,” he said, grinning through a mouthful of food—which, for the sake of your sanity, you chose to ignore.

After he had finished eating, he let the fork fall into the sink, the metal striking against the surface with a piercing echo, making you jump. He stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn, and he seemed determined to leave you alone. “Well, I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, following his movements as he ambled toward the door. “Are you telling me your microwave does work?”

“Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Wade patted your head, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy who had just learned a new trick. “Good night, peanut.”

From that moment on, the two of you became inseparable. Your personalities clicked in a way you’d never experienced before with any other friend. Wade was loyal to a fault, and he treated you like the little sister he had never had. 

Most importantly, he didn’t pity you—he saw you for who you were, not just someone marked by a lost soulmate. You never told him how much that meant to you, but deep down, you were grateful.

Which brings you to the present day. You’ve been friends with him for over a year, and he’s taken every chance to introduce you to his “weird but lovable” (his words, not yours) group of friends.

“Check your social anxiety at the door, thank you,” he’d tell you every time he hosted a get-together and you were invited.

Somehow, you had managed to bond with them—especially Althea, his elderly roommate, who occasionally forgets who you are despite living next door.

“Remind me of your name again, sweetie? All this disco dust must be affecting my memory,” she’d ask, leaning in close so you’d practically have to shout it into her ear. Then she’d nod, smirking knowingly. “Ah, yes. I thought so. Just making sure.”

She’s quite the character. A real sweetheart if you leave aside the number of times she’s offered you more types of drugs than you knew existed.

Tonight, you’re throwing Wade a surprise birthday party. Among all the party tasks, you’ve handled the decorations and the cake. The room’s a riot of color, with balloons floating lazily from the ceiling and a cascade of streamers draping over the furniture.

Guests start arriving, greeting you warmly, a feeling you once thought impossible. They’re Wade’s friends, sure, but on some level, you like to think they’re your friends now too: Vanessa, Dopinder, Buck, Shatterstar, Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio.

As you hear footsteps approaching the door, Wade’s voice filters through the hallway. Panicking, you whirl around to the group. “He’s here! Everyone shut up!” you whisper urgently, turning off the lights and pressing your back flat against the wall next to the door.

Seconds later, the sound of keys jingling fills the air as both Wade and Peter step into the apartment.

You flip the lights back on just as Dopinder pops his much-anticipated party popper. “Surprise!” you all scream in unison, and Wade’s face splits into a grin, unsure of whom to hug first.

“You guys are lucky I’m not armed,” he quips, slinging an arm around Dopinder’s shoulders. “Six years ago, you’d all be dead!”

And you giggle, because… well, what else are you supposed to do?

As you expected, the night unfolds smoothly. You’re having fun, engaging in conversations despite yesterday’s emotional meltdown at the cafe. It’ll be okay—it always is. The food is amazing, the company even better. You remind yourself that romantic love isn’t the only kind that matters—that’s what friends are for, after all, to teach you that lesson.

The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively symphony that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Yukio calls your name, waving her head in front of your eyes, trying to snap you out of your thoughts. “Everything okay?” she wonders, concern flickering in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

You all gather around the cake when Wade’s about to blow the candles. You know he’s preparing himself for a speech. “Another year of spinning around the moon, huh?”

“Sun, you dumbass,” Al corrects him, and you have to bite your lip to keep your laughter to yourself.

“Okay, flat-earther,” Wade shoots back, giving her a playful side-eye. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, right—I can’t thank you all enough for being here. These past few years have been... well, rough on me, to say the least,” he says, glancing down at the cake with a small, crooked smile. “But I’m happy now. We’ve got each other’s back, like a team!”

“Like The Avengers, you mean?” Dopinder pipes up, eyes sparkling with excitement. There’s a moment of silence in which you swear you’d be able to hear a hairpin drop.

It’s still a sensitive topic.

“Next time, give me a trigger warning before you mention them,” Wade mutters in a hushed tone, and Dopinder shrinks sheepishly. “I guess what I wanted to tell you was…” he trails off, his palm covering the place where his heart is, “that I'm glad you’re all here. Being surrounded by the people I love most is the best birthday gift ever.”

His words stir something inside you. Vanessa gently nudges his arm, smiling up at him. “Why don’t you make your wish?”

Wade dramatically drops to his knees in front of the cake, eyes fluttering shut before blowing out the candles, whistles and cheers erupting all around.

Just then, you hear the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing through the air. You exchange a curious glance with Wade, raising your eyebrows. “That’s weird. Want me to get it?”

“Nah, I got it,” he says, excusing himself to answer the door. He slips outside, shutting it behind him, and everything returns to normal. For a while, you assume he’s chatting with someone who dropped by to say hi—but that doesn’t really make sense.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s been out there so long?” Vanessa inquires, her worry starting to creep in.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door.

But when you open it, there’s no Wade in sight. Just… his toupee—or “hair system” as he insists on calling it, lying on the floor.

Kneeling down, you gingerly pick it up, a strange sensation settling in your chest.

Where the hell did he go?

After his existence went downhill, Logan turned to prayer.

Completely out of character, right? He thought so too. The number of times he'd stepped foot inside a church could be counted on one hand, so why would a man like him resort to religion?

In the past, he had been told he was part of God’s plan, but somewhere along the way, he felt like he had become God’s mistake.

After living a life plagued with loss and constantly in hiding, he wasn’t shocked that his self-worth was in the gutter.

Things only spiraled after letting everyone down, especially after that particular day when things took a turn for the worse. He had prayed, asking God to make him forget.

When that didn’t work, he just drank harder and smoked more. But not even drowning in alcohol and clouds of nicotine could put an end to his struggles—he was condemned to suffer.

In spite of everyone’s wishes, he’s still going strong, stuck with no defined purpose. It’s almost impossible not to fall into a routine that seeks to numb him, to put him under anesthesia—waking up after passing out who-knows-where, finding the nearest bar, sinking into whiskey and the haze of ashtrays.

Then he does it all over again, a never-ending cycle. His self-destructive habits don’t lead him to oblivion; instead, they intensify every sensation, making each memory and emotion painfully vivid. 

Day after day, he convinces himself he’s got it under control. Logan may be tough as fuck, and he may heal faster than anyone else, but his pride is in pieces.

No amount of strength or supernatural abilities can stop the decay he feels inside, the slow rot creeping deeper within him the longer he remains trapped in this life.

He slams the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy thud, tapping two fingers against it. “Again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The bartender looks at him like he's the reincarnation of all things vile. “I told you—you’re not welcome here. You’re not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

Oh, yes. Music to his ears. If he had a nickel for every time he heard that, he’d be rich. “Just give me one more drink and then I’ll leave.”

“That’s not how it works,” the bartender replies, and Logan knows he’s screwed. Another public establishment he’s been banned from—fucking perfect.

Will there ever be a day where he’s not treated like garbage?

“It does now,” an unknown voice joins the conversation, and Logan glances to his side, arching a brow. The masked man doesn’t let his stare falter. “Leave the bottle.”

“Do I know you, bub?” 

“You don’t, but I know you.”

This serves as evidence of how pliant he’s become. Years ago, he would’ve already wiped the floor with this guy. They didn’t call him Logan “short fuse” Howlett for nothing. But now? He just can’t bring himself to do it.

“Everybody does. I’m the—”

Here it comes, the reminder of his personal calvary.

“—Wolverine.” Once he finishes the sentence, his words taste bitter. Perhaps it’s the venom on his tongue, or maybe it’s just the alcohol from yesterday kicking him again. Either way, both hit hard.

“Yes, you are,” the stranger says, continuing to stare at him, as if Logan’s worth the effort. “And I’m going to need you to come with me. Right now.”

Logan holds his breath. The worst part of it all is that his day’s just getting started. He has no clue who this guy is or why he’s claiming to need him.

But he’s got the wrong man—Logan doesn’t know him, and he sure as hell doesn’t have anything good to offer.

Or so he believed five minutes ago. Life seems to have its own way of surprising him.

Knowing he’ll regret it later, he closes his fingers around the whiskey bottle, chugging the liquor until darkness takes over his senses.

Nighty-night, Logan.

I'm aware that you're not mine, and nor will you ever be.

I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out

where this need to call you mine stems from. 

You're like an antique, a rare piece displayed

in a crowded bazaar, drawing curious glances.

I’m aware that you're not mine

because I haven't bought you yet;

I hold no claim over you,

nor can I control who touches you and who doesn't.

I want you to be mine,

but no amount of money would buy your soul.

You're beyond reach—someone has already marked you.

I’m aware that you’re not mine, 

and I guess maybe that’s how life is meant to be.

“Bullshit,” you mutter softly into the quiet of your apartment, where the only sound is the echo of your own voice.

Chewing the end of your pen, your eyes narrow as they skim over the poem you’d written over a month ago.

Since then, you’ve been working on refining the details, but something is missing—that you can feel. The flow is awkward, the choice of words stiff. It’s like a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together. 

You take a long sip from your coffee, tucking both knees up onto the chair you're sitting in. 7:30 a.m., and already, your mind is spinning, diving headfirst into a poem when countless other things are demanding your attention—like, a hundred things, really.

Right now, cracking this piece feels more important than any other task on your list.

Who do you write to? That part is easy—your soulmate. That deceased, probably buried, long-gone soulmate of yours.

It shouldn’t be funny, but there’s an absurdity to it.

Without warning, a memory slips into your thoughts—one girl you used to work with once advising you to change the subject of your writing.

“You should go for some self-love crap. People usually eat that up,” she said, not even bothering to look up from her nails, red polish smeared over the edges.

Her fingers were a mess, coated in that fiery hue, but she didn’t seem to care as she tapped your notebook with her lacquered index finger. “This is repetitive. Keep writing about the same thing, and people will get bored of you.”

“I haven’t published them yet,” you answered, your voice coming out more high-pitched than usual, betraying the doubt you intended to suppress. Her blue eyes flicked up, studying your face as you slid the now red-stained notebook back into your bag, away from her careless, messy fingers. “I thought… I thought we were supposed to write about what we feel passionate about.”

That managed to catch her attention. Passionate. She let out a laugh—sharp and cold, like something straight out of a villain’s script in a children’s movie. It grated against your ears.

“Sweetie, you call that passionate?” She waved her hand dismissively, standing up from the table.

Taller, older, and more secure—just the fact that she gave you her time should’ve made you feel grateful. “Not to be a bitch, but what you showed me is kind of depressing.” 

Kind of depressing. From that moment on, you kind of hated her. Small victories, though—the agency fired her a year later. You like to think you kind of won that battle.

Still, she might’ve been right about one thing: your writing does fall into patterns. It’s predictable, to say the least—the rhythm, the themes. Even the metaphors you include can be found in several of your poems.

Are you… lazy? Has someone revealed the way to break out of it? If there is, you figure you're fine without it.

You don’t want to write the kind of articles she’d churn out about the latest trends or the five best positions to get pregnant faster. Nor do you want to pick apart celebrities' lives for a flashy headline.

What you do want is to write about love. Real love. Even if you are not the most qualified person to do it. Even if nobody wants to read the words from someone who has never experienced it in the flesh.

And you’ll get there—how? You’re still figuring that out.

As long as you live and breathe, love will remain in your thoughts, haunting you—especially with your muse being the fleeting dream of a soulmate you never got to meet in the first place.

But it’s time to start your day—the real one. The one where you have to step outside the safety of your four walls and deal with reality.

The to-do list assembles in your mind: groceries, that book you’ve been meaning to pick up, emails you need to answer.

You let your mind take over, guiding you through the motions without a second thought. As you head back to your room, you get rid of the comfortable robe you love so much.

Next, your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Just as you're about to step out of your pajama pants, you notice them.

The scars.

They’re not the same, not the faded lines etched into your skin that you could see every night behind your eyelids. New marks glow against your flesh, each one a map of something you don’t yet understand, standing out like new brushstrokes on an old canvas.

You can’t help but freeze, your breath faltering for a moment, and you nearly trip over yourself. Kicking your pants to the side, you stare down at your hips, thighs, the hollow of your ribcage. 

Tentatively, you press your fingers into the lines, expecting them to fade, to disappear under your touch like some peculiar illusion.

But they don’t. They remain. You can feel the raised edges, the subtle roughness, the heat beneath your touch.

These scars are different from the ones you had before. Under no circumstances are they the faint memories you once carried. No—these are fresh and vibrant. Marks that shouldn’t exist, the stories they’ve witnessed unfamiliar to you.

Within seconds, you’re sobbing, and you blink through the wetness clouding your vision, wiping your tears of disbelief (and maybe hope?) away with the back of your hand.

Nothing changes. They’re still there.

You've never heard of scars returning like this. It goes against everything in the manual on your shelf. Scars vanish when a soulmate dies, but they don’t come back. Not like this. And they certainly don’t change. 

Barely able to stand without stumbling, you scramble to your phone. The first person you call is your mom, your fingers shaking as you press the buttons. She screams into the phone, and all you can do is laugh through the tears.

What doesn’t sit right with her is the change in the scars. She mentions something about reaching out to a specialist, insisting that your case is rare—one in a million.

Almost immediately, you think of Wade, knowing he’d want to hear this. God, he’d be ecstatic. Before you even realize it, you’re standing in front of his door, finger hovering over the bell.

That’s when the realization hits you: he’s been gone for nearly three days, off doing whatever it is he does.

Ringing the bell, a smile tugs at your lips. News like these are meant to be shared.

“Althea, it’s me!” you call out, hoping she’ll hear you. You press your forehead against the door, fidgeting with your fingers. “I have something to tell you.”

Logan has had better days. Days that didn’t involve escaping The Void, fighting a hundred Wades, or saving an earth that wasn’t even his to begin with.

You know, normal days—of being sneered at while drinking to forget and, fuck, how many hours has he been sober? It feels like an eternity.

When the adrenaline wears off and the heroism fades, he’s back to being just Logan again. If he had a watch, he’d probably tap the glass and fake impatience to Wade, pretending he’s got somewhere else to be.

He should leave. That’s his first impulse: to escape before it’s too late, but a question arises in his mind: does he truly want to?

Wade watches as Logan rises to his feet, planning to walk away. Pretty stupid, Logan thinks, considering he knows no one else in this universe—apart from the scarred man he’s become friends with against his will.

“Logan!” Wade yells his name, his voice light but firm enough to halt him in his tracks. Logan turns to face him, greeted by Wade’s familiar, infuriating smile.

It's a silent invitation to a new beginning.

Nothing’s holding him back, so why not accept it? The odds of being the target of hateful glares are lower here, and that’s reason enough for Logan to give a small tilt of his head and return to the bench where Wade remains seated.

“We’re gonna be roommates!” the latter exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his face as they head toward the building. “Can you imagine all the fun we’ll have?”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line. “Looking forward to it,” he murmurs, a small glimmer of sarcasm slipping into his tone, although Wade takes his words at face value.

“Me too, roomie. Me too.”

“Let’s not use that word.”

Wade holds the door open for Logan with an exaggerated bow. “Why not? It’s the truth. We can even share my bed if that’s—”

The sound of Logan’s claws succeeds in silencing him. Wade recoils and covers his crotch, no doubt remembering past close calls.

“You know what? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. No problem.”

Was moving in with Wade the worst idea he’s had in a while? Absolutely. The reason? Althea, the elderly woman he lives with, isn’t answering the door, and he doesn’t have his keys.

Logan covers his eyes with a hand, silently questioning all of his life choices. And it’s only been ten minutes.

“This doesn’t happen often,” Wade reassures him, rubbing his neck.

“Hard to believe,” Logan mutters, some unknown muscle in his jaw beginning to ache from how hard he’s gritting his teeth. “You just leave the house without your fucking keys?”

Wade huffs, jutting out a hip in mock offense. “Those TVA guys didn’t exactly send a ‘We’re here to ruin your day’ memo. I was ambushed, okay?” he retorts, keeping a finger glued to the doorbell, its shrill ring gnawing at Logan’s already thin patience. “Al, I swear to God, I’m replacing your blood pressure pills with laxatives if you don’t wake up!”

“How old is she?” Logan asks, searching for anything to keep him from snapping the other man’s neck. Peaceful thoughts.

“Compared to you, she’s basically a newborn,” Wade replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’s having the time of his life—meanwhile, Logan’s self-control is reaching its limit.

His claws twitch in his knuckles. He’s had enough, and with a jerk of his left hand, they gleam as they slide out, ready to break the damn door. 

But then Wade jumps in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, buddy! I’m not letting you turn my door into a strainer.”

“Move,” Logan barks, not an ounce of friendliness in his tone. His stare is flat, unfazed.

“I’d rather not. You can’t just go around breaking people’s doors, man. Not cool,” Wade blurts quickly, placing both hands on Logan’s chest, pushing him away. “How about I ask my neighbor, huh? I gave her a spare set of keys for situations like these.”

“I thought you said this didn’t happen often.”

“Well, life’s full of disappointments.”

Before Logan can answer back, Wade rushes to the door next to his, slamming his fist on it like a madman, his finger hammering the doorbell simultaneously.

The devil’s orchestra—a symphony straight from hell.

Logan grabs Wade’s wrist before he can knock again, hissing: “Have some manners, will you?” 

Wade tries to shake his arm free from Logan’s tight grip. “She’s in there. I know it,” he replies in the same tone, but now he uses his other hand to ring the doorbell with greater feeling.

After a pause, he stamps his foot on the floor, throwing his head back. “Come on! Is this how you treat me after being away? Shame on you, Missy!”

This neighbor must be very patient, Logan thinks, to keep up with a guy like Wade without often seeing red.

As the door finally swings open, his grip on Wade loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side.

“What… the fuck?”

The sound of your voice—soft, slightly groggy from sleep—pulls his attention away from the door incident. His gaze is fixed entirely on you—you look as if you’ve just rolled out of bed, which makes sense since it’s still early.

Back in The Void, Wade had rambled on about all his friends, you included. Logan recalls how he had described you: a book editor who lived on her own and loved reading. You were younger—but then again, who wasn’t younger than him?

The picture Wade had shown him, with you standing in the background, hadn’t done you justice. He had found you attractive then, but seeing you in person?

You’re… far more than he expected.

More beautiful, for starters.

Fuck. Why is he even thinking about that? He must’ve been staring at you for quite a while—you glance at him like a startled lamb, clearly feeling self-conscious under his unwavering stare.

“May I know,” you start, tightening your robe, “why you were banging on my door like that? I thought I was getting robbed for a minute.” You direct your question at Wade, avoiding Logan’s presence, which makes something tighten in his chest.

He finds the way you stifle a yawn endearing, though.

Okay, that’s enough, he tells his mind. Let it go.

Wade steps in first, dropping his mask on the nearest surface. “Hello, my dear. Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a few scratches. No, I wasn’t partying—I was kidnapped. Thanks for asking.”

You draw in a long breath, rubbing your eyes to wake up once and for all, and then you proceed to gesture for Logan to enter. Even now, you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. “Do you—would you like to come in?”

Not only are you pretty, but also polite. He nods, muttering a gruff: “Yeah, thank you.”

As he walks past you, your shoulders brush briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through him. A tingling sensation on the verge of being electrifying that has him knitting his brows.

His gaze finds yours, searching your expression to see if you felt it too. But you look away, closing the door to go after Wade.

Great. You must think he’s a weirdo. 

“I’m always up for company, but why so early?” you ask your friend, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “And are you going to tell me what happened the other day? You left without saying anything.”

Wade hops onto a stool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. “You know Al. When it comes to sleeping, she’s like a much older version of Sleeping Beauty,” he replies with a grin, snatching the mug you were about to use for your morning coffee. “Thanks, you’re such a doll.”

“That was—mine,” you sigh, hitting him in the thigh, and Wade winces with a fake whine. “I don’t think I’ve missed you that much. Go back to being missing in action,” you say, grabbing another mug and filling it before raising it toward Logan. “Coffee?”

Logan hesitates. You’re treating him like you’ve known him for years, not minutes. “I’m… good.”

“You sure? I made it fresh, just before you guys arrived.”

“Don’t worry, I’m—”

“I love the chemistry here,” Wade interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention back to him, “but you still got the keys I gave you, right?”

You roll your eyes, blowing on your steamy coffee before answering. “I do, but I want answers first. And I want them now.”

Twenty minutes and a rambling, half-coherent story later, your drink has gone cold, and Logan’s patience is wearing thin… again.

Will he survive sleeping under the same roof as Wade? Stay tuned for more.

“And then I told Paradox ‘He has risen, babygirl’—”

“I think you’re being too specific,” Logan interjects, noting how you’re staring into space with wide eyes. “She seems confused.”

“I am,” you admit, rubbing your temples. He doesn’t blame you: Wade’s a terrible storyteller. You offer him a weak smile as you turn to him. “So… you’re from another universe.”

“Last time I checked.” His back collapses against the couch, groaning softly. He sits beside you, and the way your eyes sweep over him, taking in his disheveled and sweaty appearance, doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“And how is it? I mean, do you have—”

“I’m public enemy number one.”

Too harsh, idiot.

“Oh. That’s… good to know.”

Wade says your name, and you look to your right, lifting your brows. “Do you mind if I grab the keys myself? I need a shower. I’ve been marinating in sweat and blood for way too long.”

You grimace, pointing toward your room. “Top drawer of my nightstand.”

With that, he embarks on a quest to find them, leaving Logan alone with you. Silence stretches between you two.

He doesn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything. Casual conversation isn’t his forte.

“You and Wade…?”

Letting out a giggle, you lean back on the couch. “God, no. We’re just friends,” you explain, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, your eyes bore into his, and then you return to burning holes in the floor. “I’m single. Haven’t found my soulmate yet.”

It’s his turn to chuckle now—a dark, humorless sound rumbling in his chest. You chew on a cuticle, Logan’s gesture igniting a sense of curiosity in you.

“What?” you ask him, puzzled.

“Do you really believe in that? Soulmates who share scars?” If he were to think carefully, he’d watch his tone. It’s too late, anyway—you straighten your posture, your face contorting with each passing second. “I can tell you do.”

“And I can tell you don’t.”

“Why would I? Those are lies,” he retorts, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

His opinion is anything but objective, totally biased, given that every time he dove into love’s arms, he was met with the crude reality: not everyone’s meant to be loved, himself included.

The look you give him is enough to wipe the smirk off his face. 

“Soulmates exist, Logan. We all have one.” There’s a certainty in your tone, marked by the subtle way in which you say his name, that he finds alluring. He shouldn’t, especially when you seem angry above all. 

“And where is yours, then?”

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your expression becomes inscrutable. You could be either disappointed, frustrated, or even exasperated—sad, perhaps?

Logan feels as though a weight has settled on his shoulders just from staring into your eyes.

You strike back with silence. Plain, pure, dreadful silence that has him wondering if he’s breathing properly.

At long last, Wade comes back from his expedition, keys dangling from his fingers. “It was quite the treasure hunt, you know? You’ve got a lot of garbage in there.” He sticks his face between Logan’s and yours when you don't answer him. “Guys, is there something wrong? Are you doing a staring contest? If so, can I join?”

“I need to start getting ready for work,” you announce, standing up from the couch. Logan mimics you, and you open the door, your fingers curling around the knob. “You should get going. And Wade,” you pause, acknowledging only him, “I need to talk to you later. In private.”

Without Logan. That’s what you wanted to say but didn’t.

“Sure, my queen. I live to serve,” Wade says in rejoinder, and he kisses your forehead briefly, which forces Logan to avert his gaze the whole time his lips are on you, feeling uncomfortable watching. “Take care, alright?” 

You give Wade a small nod, waiting until he’s outside your apartment to glance at Logan.

“Goodbye,” you croak, and he knows he should say something, that he—

The door almost closes on his nose.

Had he been an asshole? He was merely expressing his thoughts. The idea of soulmates didn’t sit well with him.

Once settled into Wade’s apartment, Logan steps into the shower, water rinsing off his body. Yet he finds himself unable to stop thinking about you.

The disappointment in your eyes when he asked about your soulmate.

The coldness in your tone at the end, so different from the warmth you initially offered.

He feels drawn to you, as if some sort of invisible string is tying the two of you. Were it possible, he would use his own claws to cut it, but he can’t discern where it begins or ends. Instead, he prefers to blame his touch-starved state for this reaction. 

He’s already hating this earth. So much for a man whose skin refuses to scar.

And where is yours, then?

His words shouldn’t have stung the way they did. All the charm—the gruff exterior, the mysterious personality—had vanished.

The guy from another universe, with the claws, the healing abilities, and the raspy voice, is a moron.

A ridiculously good-looking moron? Yes, but a moron nonetheless.

There is something about him you can’t quite place. A chill creeps down your spine as you replay the instant your eyes first locked. Your body had reacted in ways it never had before, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.

Why? You’d seen handsome men before, even been with some. Yet, you’ve never felt this—this gravitational pull, this inexplicable pull to invade someone’s personal space.

How would your soulmate feel if he saw you like this, lusting after another man?

You shudder at the thought. This isn’t like you. You pride yourself on loyalty—perhaps a little too much. You don’t read two books at the same time, and you’ve been buying the same brand of shampoo for the past five years.

So why now? Why him? It feels like a betrayal of your own mind, your conscience turned against you.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

That afternoon, as you take a nap on the couch, he invades your dreams. It’s not even a wet dream, but he’s there, staking a claim on a part of you he has no right to.

You wake up with your hand clutching your chest, a frustrated punch landing on the nearest cushion.

The next day, you drop by Wade’s place for a quick visit, your eyes darting around the room every few seconds, half-expecting Logan to appear out of nowhere.

“I told you, he’s sleeping. That guy’s got a fucked up sleep schedule,” Wade says, urging you to take a seat beside him at the table. “Why don’t you wanna see him?”

Because he’s messing with your sanity. Your brain cells are practically disintegrating at the mere thought of breathing the same air as him.

“I just—I need to tell you something.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“What? Wade, no! You’ve been gone for three days—pregnancies take months.”

“I’d make an amazing uncle, though.” He grabs your hand between his, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Babies are so adorable at that—”

“My scars are back,” you cut him off, putting an end to his nonsense. Pulling the neck of your sweater to the side, you show him the thin lines etched into your collarbone. “But they are different this time.”

“Different? You mean they changed?” His disbelief is clear as he reaches for your arm, frowning while he inspects more of your scars. Wade’s jaw slackens, color draining out of his face. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, fuck!” His strong arms envelop you, and you lean into the embrace, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “Is this good news? Are we happy? Does this mean I have a shot at becoming an uncle after all?”

You laugh a little at his eagerness, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am happy. I just—I don’t know what these changes mean yet.”

Althea steps out of the bathroom, her cane tapping the floor in rhythmic beats. “I already told you what they mean.”

Wade pulls away from you, glaring at her. “You meddler! Haven’t we talked about not eavesdropping? Hasn’t life taught you anything after all these decades?”

“Upside of being blind: I’ve never seen this motherfucker in Crocs,” she says, pointing her cane at you, though you know her aim is Wade. “Downside of being blind: I hear everything in this apartment. And you, kid, have a new soulmate.”

“I know what we talked about the other day, but... it doesn’t make sense, Al. You only get one soulmate,” you protest, feeling the tension grow as you pace around the table. “Why can’t it just be simple? My friends are getting engaged, years are flying by, and I’m still out here chasing this… this idiot who no one can even find!”

That’s when Logan appears, emerging from his room, holding several empty beer cans. He rolls his eyes and walks straight into the kitchen. “Great. Who else is coming tonight?”

Wade smirks, clapping a hand on Logan’s shoulder as he looks at you. “Sweetie, Logan’s going through his second puberty at the ripe old age of two hundred. The pediatrician said it’s just hormones, nothing to worry about. Excuse his shitty attitude.”

With a low groan, Logan shrugs off Wade’s hand, scowling. If anything, the younger man’s grin just grows bigger. “Wolvie, I gotta admit that whole ‘Don’t fall in love with me or I’ll break your heart’ personality shouldn’t turn me on, but here we are.”

You decide to take that as your cue to leave. You grab your bag, muttering a quick goodbye to Althea as you head for the door.

But Logan calls after you. “Can we talk?”

You freeze, your back to him. “How much did you hear?” you ask, not daring—not being able—to meet his gaze.

“All of it,” he admits after a beat, and you curse under your breath. “But it doesn’t—Hey!” He follows you into the hallway. “I’m talking to you!”

“No, you’re not.” You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking as you try to unlock your door. “Leave me alone.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles behind you, his voice softer now. “Come on. Don’t be so harsh.”

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, finally finding the right key and jiggling it into the lock. The door swings open, and you step into the safety of your apartment. But when you try to close it, Logan’s foot wedges into the gap, blocking it. “Get out.”

He doesn’t budge. “No.”

“Logan, I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, me neither. But I owe you an apology.”

You wonder if he realizes the hold he has on you. No matter how hard you try to mask it, the unbearable pounding of your heart betrays you.

Scanning his features, you trace the rugged contours of his face with your eyes, lingering on the lines on his forehead—the aftermath of what it looks like a life lived through bitterness and pain.

“Can I come in?” he insists, his tone on the verge of sounding pleading.

You hesitate. The sensible part of you screams to send him away. Thinking that avoiding him would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby is a long-forgotten idea now: you’d been naïve to even consider it possible.

He’s going to find a way to sneak into your space, your home—and you’ll let him in. You’ll grant him a chance to cross a boundary that should’ve been already drawn.

It feels like you’re fifteen again, infatuated with the guy you know you shouldn’t get close to. Paul from high school wasn’t your soulmate back then—Logan isn’t now.

The smart thing would be to take a step back, accept his apology, and ask him to leave. That’s how you preserve what little remains of your sanity and protect your heart, which is already hanging by a thread.

But God, it feels so good to be near him.

You step aside. He walks in. Something tells you this won’t be the last time.

“I’m waiting.” You stay near the counter, pressing your back against it, and keeping your distance. Logan sits awkwardly on the edge of your couch, unsure of where to begin.

“Look, about what I said yesterday…I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere, earnest. “I didn’t know you believed in soulmates.”

“It’s not a matter of believing in them or not, Logan. My soulmate is out there—yours too.”

Your words coax a grin from him, and he shakes his head. “I guess we’ll never see eye to eye on that.” In a fluid motion, he crosses the room, and you find his unexpected proximity a bit exasperating. “Do you forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Give me a break, darlin’. I’m trying my best.”

“Well, you were an asshole.”

“Yes.”

“The first time we exchanged words.”

“Also yes.”

“And now you’re apologizing.”

“Positive. I just did.”

It’s not that you’re easy—it’s Logan’s persuasive allure that gets to you.

“What else can I do to win your forgiveness?” he wonders aloud, his syrupy voice making you tighten your grip on the counter.

An idea sparks in your mind. You move toward the pile of books next to the TV, eyeing the titles, until one catches your attention: your copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, one of the first novels you’d read when you were younger.

It’s adorned with colorful post-its, and the pages, sort of rough to the touch, are marked with handwritten notes in the margins.

“How do you feel about reading?”

“Not my strongest suit,” he answers, arching a brow as he takes in your enthusiasm. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“You want me to believe you’re sorry for what you said? Then read this,” you say, wiggling the book in front of him, “and we can start over.”

“What is it about? Let me guess: love and soulmates. Did I get it right?” he asks, playfulness lacing his tone. His breath hitches as you press the book against his chest, silently urging him to take it. His pinky grazes your hand, feeling your skin and sending a jolt through you.

Logan watches you with half-lidded eyes, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tear yourself away from him and his maddening touch.

You clear your throat. “Open it to page one hundred fifty-three.”

“Do you—you remember specific pages?”

“And read what’s underlined in black,” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed for an instant. “Please.”

Logan must mutter something along the lines of ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ before searching for it. It’s only then that he begins to recite the passage:

He is not to them what he is to me. He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; – I am sure he is – I feel akin to him – I understand the language of his countenance and movements; though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered: – and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.

You’ve chosen a damn good page.

Logan looks up from the book, his mouth slightly parted, as if he’s about to speak. You interject before he can find the words.

“You’ve got a week to read it.”

“How long is it again?”

“Four hundred pages.”

He surrenders, sighing in defeat. “You’re killing me here, y’know?”

“Write an opinion essay if possible.”

Right there, Logan offers you a mock laugh. “Haha. That’s so funny.”

“It is for me,” you talk back, unable to hide your smile from him, and soon he mirrors your expression. 

As Logan steps toward the door, he hesitates and glances back. “We’re all good then?”

Leaning against the doorframe, you raise your chin defiantly. “We’ll be when you finish the book.”

What he says next has your stomach turning into knots. “You’re trouble.” His tone shifts—no longer teasing, but grounded in truth. Gone are the jokes; he seems to mean every word.

For the rest of the night, one line from the book doesn’t stop echoing in your mind—the line about soulmates: I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. 

You’re trouble for him, and he’s trouble for you. You hope he knows it too.

He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished.

That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day.

Logan now figures he’s been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. He’s seen you animated, angry—both defiant and vulnerable.

Each of your gestures feels like a memory he can’t quite place.

The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the left—he swears it isn’t the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun.

Still, he convinces himself it’s all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment.

He’s wrong—you’re right. He’s seeing things where there are none—you’re simply too kind.

Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself.

Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out?

Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes?

The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine can’t close his eyes.

Instead, he listens.

Some nights, you play the same movie on repeat—a romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, he’s privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen.

He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll.

None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endings—the kind you wish for yourself.

One way or another, there must be a way to get you out of his system. He knows, without a doubt, that you wouldn’t want him. He’s not your soulmate, and it’s clear that finding that person has become the center of your existence.

Logan can’t allow himself to be the moron who derails your purpose.

Sure, he’s done bad things, but he likes to believe that at least a part of him—some small fraction—hasn’t been lost yet. That there’s a piece of him that can be saved, which is the reason why he stayed here: to be a better man than the one he was in his universe.

But it’s hard. Harder still because it’s you who disrupts his quest for redemption. How is he supposed to go on with his life when every thought circles back to you? The idea of holding you, kissing you—sleeping beside you haunts him.

And so the images blur, new dreams twisting with his usual nightmares.

Which one is worse, he can no longer tell.

One afternoon, while deliberately steering clear of Jane Eyre, he reluctantly turns to Wade in search of answers. “Tell me more about her.”

Wade, lounging on the couch, stops scrolling on his phone and drops it onto his chest, drawing his eyebrows together.

“Her? Who do you mean?” His tone oozes with feigned innocence, barely containing a shit-eating grin when Logan grits out your name, his tone rough, almost pained. “Oh, Romeo. You’ve got it bad.”

Intending to maintain some semblance of control, Logan strides into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the last bottle of whiskey. As he tips it, only a few drops fall into the glass.

“No, I don’t,” he says, extending his arm and holding the bottle up. “We’re out of whiskey.”

“You keep saying we, but you’re the only alcoholic in this apartment.” Wade kicks off his shoes, propping his feet on the coffee table. “So, why the sudden interest in the lady? She getting through that tough exterior of yours? I’ll give her points for that.”

“And you wonder why I don’t talk to you.”

“I saw the book,” the younger man replies, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching as Logan rummages through the fridge with increasing frustration. “You never told me you were into classics. If I’d known, I’d have gotten you a copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who came to me, looking for the essential oil of truth?”

The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable, mood-killing.

“See what I just did there?” he adds, and Logan feels forced to shake his head from side to side, appearing conflicted. Wade lets out a low huff. “That was Virginia Woolf. Add her to your reading list.”

“Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“More times than I can count. I’m just not everyone’s cup of coffee.”

“Tea, Wade. Not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Whatever.” Wade simpers, as though Logan’s correction is the punchline to a joke only he gets. He sets his palms flat on the table, looming closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what would you like to know about my dear friend?”

Logan hesitates, the weight of his question heavy on his tongue. “What’s the deal with her scars?”

The air shifts. Wade’s playful expression fades and he tilts his head, his tone turning serious. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell,” he begins, gaze dropping to the floor. “But she lost them years ago. She was living a normal life, and one day, they were just—gone, like they were never there. It broke her. We didn’t know each other back then, but you’ve seen her.”

Wade’s eyes flick back up, while Logan stands there, tongue-tied. “You even know the kind of books she reads—nothing can shake that belief in real love, in soulmates being destined. Imagine how she must’ve felt when she found out her presumed soulmate was dead… without a single warning.”

From what he had heard, that sense of loss was impossible to put into words. Those who’d gone through it described the experience as if half of you—your body, your soul, your very essence—was being ripped away.

The pain was excruciating, and the only way to survive it was by means of tolerating it—no remedy, just the endurance to outlast the agony.

It wasn’t just a momentary hurt. It was the kind of torment that lingered, making you question who you were and what little remained of you.

You and Logan had more in common than he’s willing to admit.

“She’s a good person,” he mutters absent-mindedly, his thumb grazing the cover of the book. He had carried it everywhere for a week now, without even cracking it open.

“Oh, you dirty pig…” Wade whispers, his eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind. “Now I get it. You wanna know her. Like, really know her!”

“I don’t—”

“Your sex life is none of my business. I’m all up for you putting your mutant dick to work, otherwise it’s just wasted potential. But it’s my friend we’re talking about.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, and he snaps. “Drop the speech, alright? I’m not trying to get into her pants. I just want to be nice. That’s all.”

“Nice, huh? What’s your version of nice? Starting a two-person book club?” Wade stifles a laugh, pressing a finger to Logan’s chest. “Look, if you want to sleep with her, and the feeling’s mutual, then go for it. Just tell me this—how long’s it been since you visited Pussy Village? Was it before or after the Big Bang?”

Things are never truly serious with Wade Wilson. “I’m not answering that.”

Wade raises both hands in surrender, still chuckling. “Fine, fine. But if you’re really interested, just be clear about it. She doesn’t need a half-assed situationship.”

By now, it’s like a mantra he repeats again and again, hoping that eventually both Wade and he will start to believe it. “I don’t want to have sex with her.”

As he heads back to his (now Wade’s old) room, Wade adds, “I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you underlined some quotes you like.”

Much to his dismay, that’s exactly what Logan does.

His handwriting isn’t the most legible, but he tries his best, leaving notes in the margins of some pages, such as:

I hate this John kid.

Her aunt is a cunt.

This is too cheesy.

Mr. Rochester’s married?

St. John—what a prick.

He finishes the book at 7 a.m. A long-ass book—just for you. While getting ready for work, Wade calls him an unemployed fucker, and Logan knows nothing better than to shoot back a similar insult, stretching his arms as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains.

Wade was right about something, even if Logan himself doesn’t wish to admit it: he’s behaving like a teenager—staying up until dawn, practically chained to the bed without daring to go out. Falling for a girl he didn’t know a week ago.

Learning to control his impulses has been a hard task, especially with his temperament. Over the years, Logan thought he’d mastered the art of self-restraint, long past the point where his body moved without his mind’s permission.

As his feet carry him down the hall toward your apartment, he recognizes how wrong he is.

This is a terrible idea, he thinks. And yet, his fist knocks on the wood. Three times.

Fuck.

The door opens just a crack. You peek out, your face barely visible, eyes puffy from sleep. “Logan?”

His name isn’t a fancy one. It’s pretty normal, pretty standard. There must be a thousand other guys named like him—yet it’s only when you say it, your voice turning it into something rare and unique, that it feels different, like it’s only his.

The tone you use with him isn’t the one he’s used to: Logan, you’re a disappointment. Logan, how dare you turn your back on your friends? Logan, they’re all dead. Logan, it’s your fault.

Yours is inviting, and warm, and new. He likes new.

“I just finished it,” he answers, holding up the book, mindful not to grip it too tight as not to crumple the pages.

You scratch the back of your head, blinking at him. “You just finished it… at 7 a.m.?

Yeah, it sounds stupid now that you say it out loud, but it’s true. Hoping his reaction is enough to explain what he can’t put into words, he gives you a slow nod.

This time, you don’t wait for him to say more. “Come in?”

Yes, this is what he’s been looking forward all week. This moment, this interaction.

This Come in. This Yes, thank you. You’re so kind.

His quiet acceptance of your invitation, the unpronounced thought of I don’t deserve this, but I can’t back off now, because how could I ever say no to you?

He follows you into the kitchen as you move to make tea. “Want some?” you ask, but he declines the offer. If he were to drink anything right now, it would be something much stronger, not tea, despite the early hour. “You’re here to talk about the book?”

“Well, you told me I could come back after reading it.”

“I did,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hide it behind your mug. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so punctual.”

You don’t need to know that he’s been counting down the seconds, marking each minute in his mind since the last time he saw you. That’s a detail he’ll keep to himself. “It’s a good story.”

“Tell me about it.” You smile even wider, and he takes a moment to absorb the details of your face—the crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches when you’re amused. “I lent you my most precious book. Fell in love with it years ago.”

“I can see why you liked it,” he explains, flipping through the pages to find the one he marked. “All the romance and the yearning—”

“Hey, it’s also good for other reasons,” you try to defend yourself, but any other argument dies on your lips when he finds the passage he was looking for and begins to read aloud.

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now,” he recites, his voice lower, almost reverent, as he looks up from the page to meet your gaze. “It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.”

You seem startled by the sharp sound of him closing the book. He’s sort of breathless, and from where he stands, he can tell you are too. “That’s one of my favorite passages.”

“I can’t blame you for believing in soulmates if this is the kind of thing you read growing up,” he teases, handing the book back to you.

Though a part of him almost wishes he didn’t have to—so that it would still be a reason, a tether, pulling him back to you again and again.

Grinning, you take it, your eyes remaining trained on his. “I happen to notice it hasn’t changed your perspective on soulmates.”

“It’ll take more than a book.”

“This is, in my opinion, one of the best love stories ever written. How else will I convince you?”

“Why do you feel like you need to convince me?” He takes a step forward—you take a step back. “Why can’t it be the other way around? I might end up being the one who convinces you.”

“You could never,” you respond, clasping your hands behind your back. “It would be like convincing me the sky is green instead of blue.”

Logan retreats slightly. “Don’t you get tired?”

“Of what?”

“Of waiting. Of always being on the lookout.”

You don’t react badly to his question. You’re not even shaken, not fazed in the slightest. “When I meet him, I’ll know all the waiting was worth it.”

“And in the meantime?” Logan inquires, pressing himself further into your intimacy, edging closer as if testing the boundaries you’re willing to cross. His words are a subtle request for more, for answers. “What will you do until you find him?”

If you ever do, he thinks, but it’s left unsaid, lingering in his thoughts. He’s getting better at not saying the things that sit heavy in his chest without thinking.

“I think you misunderstand, Logan.” You study him through your lashes, and he feels he’s become the keeper of your most sacred secrets. “It’s not about waiting as if my life’s on pause. I’ve been with other people. But in the end, I want to choose him.”

That casual admission strikes him like a wave of cold water. A flicker of jealousy burns at the edges of his composure, though he tries to smother it.

I’ve been with other people, you say, your tone so nonchalant, and yet the mental images that flood his mind are anything but comfortable.

He imagines someone else standing in your kitchen. Perhaps in five minutes, there will be another man knocking on your door, here to discuss a book, and it won’t be him.

Perhaps this isn’t rare for you—all this come in, grab something to drink, let’s talk when you’re done reading.

Perhaps he’s not as important as you make him feel.

His thoughts spiral until your voice pulls him back from the brink.

“Don’t you understand how beautiful it is?” There’s a dazzling glint in your expression, a light in your eyes that makes him ache. “Outside of these four walls, there’s a person who’s waiting to meet me, in the same way I expect to meet him. I can’t grant myself the choice not to believe in something like this.”

Far from easing the martyr in his mind, this conversation only deepens his internal struggle. The questions overlap each other: what happens if you never find him? Would you ever consider settling for somebody else?

He rephrases that last one—would you ever consider being with him?

“He’s a lucky guy,” Logan murmurs, and just like that, he feels himself slipping deeper, falling into the rabbit hole with you guiding him through the madness.

For a moment, he can pretend—pretend that matching scars and bonds that defy the rules of his principles make sense.

Maybe, just for you, he’ll allow himself to believe it.

Your eyes soften with sudden emotion, glistening with the beginnings of tears. He feels the primal urge to reach out, to cup your cheek, to be there when the first tear falls. “You think so?” you ask, your voice fragile.

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his tone quiet but laden with a strange, undeniable truth.

It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.

Whatever this is between you—it’s messed up. He’s messed up. And you… you’re just as tangled in this chaos for indulging it, for looking at him in that way that calls out to him.

The more time he spends with you, the less he feels like himself. Everything he’s done lately—reading that damn book, standing in your apartment at 7 a.m.—none of it feels like something he’d do.

It’s not just his mind you’re messing with: it’s his very sense of self.

Logan’s smart mouth had always been a liability, getting him into trouble either by saying too much or by choosing the wrong words. Bad things had always followed in the wake of his tongue.

Somehow, when it comes to you, he’s the most careful he’s ever been. He doesn’t want to upset you, nor does he want to be the cause of any sorrow that might affect your heart.

When the two of you stand at the threshold once more, just as you have other times before, you softly say: “I feel like I’m experiencing a déjà vu.”

He laughs, because it sounds ridiculous. “Care to explain why?”

“You come, we talk, you leave.” You lean against the wall, your hand ghosting over the handle. “But you never stay that long.”

There’s no mistaking the layered meaning in your words. You, who work with language and its peculiarities for a living, never speak by chance—every phrase, every pause, carries an assigned weight. The double meaning in your statement doesn’t escape either of you.

You’re a natural at this madness, diving headfirst into it. You must be losing it, too, because your actions don’t match what you said before.

Slowly, his fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the perfect excuse to feel your skin, to close the distance without saying what he actually wants.

They say food and shelter are the basic human needs, but Logan chooses to believe they forgot to include the longing to reach out and just feel you.

“I can’t stay,” he finally responds to your earlier comment, his hand still lingering against your skin.

His strength—the only thing saving him from completely giving in—helps him pull himself away.

Before the impulse to kiss you becomes too overwhelming to resist, Logan leaves.

Some time later, you’re making lunch, music playing softly in the background at the same time the city’s distinct noise finds a way to break through your tranquility.

You rely greatly on the knowledge that you’re good at multitasking—now more than ever, with a book in one hand and the other stirring the pasta on the stove.

The warmth from the pot rises around you, but you trust yourself not to be careless. Not to be stupid enough to burn yourself with the boiling water.

This time, you miscalculate. Not only do you dip the wooden spoon into the pot, but your fingertips too.

Though it only lasts a second, and the voice in your head instantly screams Hot! Hot! Hot!, the shock makes you drop the book to the floor. You yank your hand back, racing to the sink to run it under cold water.

“Fuck,” you grumble, watching the skin redden in protest. “Lesson learned: no more multitasking.”

The funny thing is, just a door away, Logan’s watching a movie with Wade when he feels a sting in the tips of his fingers.

It’s barely there, practically faint, but he looks down, inspecting his hand like it doesn’t belong to his own body. His skin briefly flushes with irritation before returning to its normal state.

Wade notices his distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Logan pays no mind to it. “Sure. Just felt something strange.”

Is it still called avoiding if you’re both doing it? You’d like to think so.

For the sake of clarity, let’s say you’ve been actively avoiding Logan, but truth be told—he’s been avoiding you too. That last encounter in your apartment didn’t help matters at all.

If anything, it made everything worse.

You’ve been down this road before, knowing men like him too well: they’re everywhere, until they’re not.

One day, they vanish without a trace, leaving you staring at the empty space they used to occupy, asking yourself ‘What happened to my Prince Charming in disguise?’

They disappear as though they never existed, and not even the best detective can track them down.

So far, your avoidance strategy has worked wonders. Maybe it’s for the best. He’s a distraction—an undeniably attractive one, the kind anyone would want to trip over.

Yet you miss him, which is dumb: why are you missing someone you were never supposed to care about in the first place?

You return home after a long trip to the grocery store, arms laden with bags. It’s the kind of errand that exhausts you, though you keep telling yourself it’s better than thinking about him.

As you struggle to get through the building's exit, you resign yourself to the fact that it’ll take several trips to bring everything up to your apartment.

Then the elevator doors slide open, and you drop everything to the floor.

You should’ve known better than to assume victory so soon. After days of successfully avoiding him, there he is.

And of course, it’s when you look your worst—tired from running around, weighed down by groceries, barely holding it together.

“Hey,” he greets you, standing just outside the elevator, like he’s not sure if he should step inside or stay where he is. He’s dressed in a red-and-black flannel shirt, layered over a white vest, a leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, and a pair of jeans that seem made for him.

He looks... ridiculously good.

“Hi,” you manage to answer after a beat, scrambling to collect the bags you’d dropped. “Just—give me a second.”

“Let me help you,” Logan says, ducking down to gather the groceries, but you pull them away.

“I’ve got it. Are you going out? On a date, maybe?” You nod toward his clothes, trying to keep things light, teasing even.

Glancing down at himself, a crease appears between his brows, and in one swoop, he gathers all the bags with a single hand. “I’m supposed to meet Wade at a bar, but he’ll survive without me.”

“Logan, you don’t—”

But he’s already moving, one hand tugging you out of the elevator, the other gesturing toward your apartment.

“Not up for debate,” he mutters. Then, without waiting for permission, he holds out his hand. “Keys.”

Sighing, you dig into your pocket and drop them into his open palm. He unlocks the door with practiced ease, stepping inside and placing the bags on your kitchen counter.

As he starts to unpack them, you stop him. “You really don’t need to do that.”

That seems to catch his attention. He pauses, turning toward you with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the counter.

His unrelenting stare sizes you up, and he cocks his head to the side. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He thinks he’s so discreet, so smooth. “Well, I’ve been busy,” you explain, fiddling with the frayed edge of your sweater, tugging at it like it might unravel your nerves.

You hear him click his tongue. “Been busy too.” His words hang in the air, thickening the atmosphere. Your body tenses, and you stare at his shoes, until— “Sweetheart,” he calls you softly, and your eyes snap shut for a moment, your chin almost pressing against your chest. “My eyes are up here.”

A quick flutter of your lashes brings you back to him, and your chest tightens with the effort it takes to look into his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you ask, praying he’ll let this go.

You watch as his mouth twitches with something halfway between a smile and a smirk. “You already want me to leave?”

“If you have plans, then yeah.”

He huffs out a laugh, inhaling a shallow breath like you’ve missed something obvious. “Wade can wait. He’ll be fine.” His expression shifts, and the playful tone in his voice falls away, replaced by something more raw. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You can’t help but snort. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t been doing the same.” You walk over to the couch, feeling your legs wobble beneath you. You collapse into one corner, hoping the distance will help you breathe.

Like a shadow, Logan follows after you, sitting far too close. His legs splay wide, so wide they’re almost grazing yours.

“At least I have a reason for it. What about you?” His hand reaches out, fingers closing around yours in a grip that’s both firm and gentle, enhancing your anxiety. Your throat tightens, the room shrinking around you. “I need you to tell me I’m not crazy,” he says, his voice rough and low. “I need you to tell me you feel it too.”

Panic flares in your chest, and you scramble for time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, but your voice cracks, the uncertainty leaking through the cracks in your bravado.

He doesn’t buy your acting. “You do. We can’t keep playing dumb. You’re gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind one of these days.”

It’s not just his words—it’s the way he stands so close, heat radiating from his body, the roughness of his hand gripping yours like he’s terrified you’ll slip away.

The intensity of it all weighs on you in ways you can’t even begin to describe, leaving you breathless, caught between denial and desire.

“Logan, this isn’t—”

“What? Okay?” There’s a glimpse of mirthlessness in his tone as he speaks, his forehead furrowing. “I can’t stay away from you, don’t you see it? It feels too good to be wrong,” he utters, inching forward. You know you should take a step back, tell him to stop. Nothing good can come from this. “It takes two to feel these things. It can’t be just me.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to give in.” Blood pounds in your ears, your pulse racing as your heart hammers unpleasantly. Little shivers of ice run through your spine, and yet, your stomach burns with desire.

More than ever, you feel yourself slipping, your sanity at risk.

Logan runs his eyes up and down your face, agitated, almost going cross-eyed. “Earlier you asked if I was going on a date. Would you like that? Me being with other people? Kissing another woman?” His hot breath caresses your cheek, and you avert your gaze momentarily. “Answer me.”

Don’t do it. For the love of God, don’t. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“Come on, baby.”

“I don’t want you to be with other people,” you mumble, your lips almost grazing his, and that’s all he needs to grip your chin and pull you into a kiss.

His mouth moves hungrily over yours, pushing you back until the armrest digs into your lower back. A choked whimper gets lost in your throat, and you bring him closer by grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket, your chest pressing against his.

Logan bites down on your lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, and the moan you let out reverberates in the apartment.

“This is what you were hiding from me?” he rasps, his forehead bumping against yours. “These sweet sounds you make?”

You end up perched in his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. He’s hard beneath you, and as you shift, your center makes contact with his erection through the layers of fabric.

Both of you sigh into each other’s mouths, your hips moving on their own accord, rocking slightly against his clothed cock. He hooks one of his arms around your waist, guiding your movements.

Everything seems to fall into place. Outside your window, birds chirp. The world feels lighter, like a better place. The beast inside you quiets, and for once, your mind is blissfully blank.

Logic? Error 404—not found.

You tug at his hair, and Logan growls, breaking the kiss. “Do that again.” He jerks under your touch, bucking up into you. Encouraged, you pull his hair again, fingers wrapping around a strand at the nape of his neck, and you’re rewarded with a deep groan.

He’s dizzy for it, but you’re no better, not when he trails his kisses down your neck, his mouth latching onto your skin, tasting the sweat and salt.

“I can’t control myself around you,” he murmurs, groping your tits, and you wail, the ache between your legs becoming intolerable. His hands slip under your sweater, caressing the scars on your back.

That’s when recognition settles over you.

What are you doing? And why are you doing it?

He ceases sucking your flesh when you go rigid on top of him. Pecking your lips once again, Logan’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t understand how he does it, how he can remain so calm. Doesn’t he realize the gravity of this? “We have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me something you already know the answer to.”

His arms drop to his sides, releasing you from his hold. You push yourself off him, away from the couch, putting as much distance between you as you can.

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you shake your head. “God, I’m stupid. This is stupid.”

Your reaction seems to get on his nerves, his frustration somehow increasing. Logan stands, towering over you. “Was it stupid when you were dry humping me?”

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“I’m not the bad guy here. You kissed me back.” He doesn’t let up, trailing behind you as you try to escape. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you bark, throwing your arms in the air. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “Yeah, we like each other. So? Does that make it right? How can you just ignore how wrong this is?”

His expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “Forget your idea of what's good and bad. You're just upset you can't control what you feel.”

“He’s closer than ever.”

Logan gawks at you, his voice bitter as he goes on with his rambling. “That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.”

“You wish you were him, don’t you?” You jab your finger into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a flutter you choose to ignore. “You want to be my soulmate.”

“Damn right I do,” he practically spits his words, narrowing his eyes at you. “But I’m not him.”

“No. You’re not.”

Everything seems to fall out of place. Outside your window, birds don’t chirp—they scream for mercy. The world doesn’t feel lighter, but heavier. The beast inside you roars back to life, restless and louder than ever, while your mind spins in chaos.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Your voice pierces through the thick silence in the room, and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

“If that’s what you want,” he replies, his jaw clenched tight, irritation radiating off him in waves.

“It’s what we both need.”

“Speak for yourself. I don’t have a soulmate.” His tone is biting, but you don’t miss the undercurrent of longing in his words. “But if in any other universe I do, I hope it’s you.”

Your hand turns the knob, and then he’s halfway out the door, sparing you one last glance before he turns his back to you.

No more visits. No more books. No more bruising kisses that leave you questioning your mere existence.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

It didn’t go well in the end.

You remember your first heartbreak—seventeen, fresh out of high school. One of your hands clutched a million dreams, and the other, a pillow soaked with your tears.

Your mother remained by your side, caressing your back, attempting to soothe the sobs that racked your body. She murmured that it’d pass, that you wouldn’t feel like this forever. You believed her then, and trusted that things would eventually be okay.

Almost ten years later, another heartbreak shouldn’t come as a surprise. By now, you thought you would’ve developed the tools to survive it. You should be able to piece yourself back together by instinct.

But life, as it turns out, has a peculiar way of catching you off guard.

Whether it’s pent-up horniness, touch-starvation, or genuine affection—it doesn't change the fact that your pseudo-relationship with Logan fell apart.

Though you’re not the one who’s suffering the most. Neither is Logan.

Wade, the third party in this tangled mess, has somehow taken it the hardest.

“I feel like a child of divorce,” he says, his head resting on your lap, eyes distant as they fixate on the peeling wallpaper. “You need to do something about that.”

“I’ll take care of it next month.”

He’s supposed to be the one supporting you, but it feels like the roles are reversed—you’re comforting him, letting him vent.

“My two favorite people now can’t even be in the same room. What are we gonna do for Christmas? New Year's Eve?” Straightening up, he grabs the nearest cushion and buries his face into it to muffle a defeated scream. “Damn it, Cupid! You had one job!”

All in all, Wade’s emotionally unavailable at the moment, grieving your separation from Logan as if it were his own loss, too caught up in his melodrama to be of any real help.

Meanwhile, you fill your days with work, books, anything to keep your mind occupied.

You go to bed too late, you wake up too early. Sleep too little, cry too much.

One thing stays constant—you and Logan don’t talk. Stolen glances in the hallway, awkward elevator rides—those are the only remnants of whatever you once were. Back to being strangers again. 

Well, not really. Strangers don’t know the route to your mouth the way he does.

The ache lingers every day. Missing him when you’re awake is a common occurrence. At night, as you toss and turn beneath the sheets, he stars in your dreams. You can’t recall the last time he wasn’t lodged in your thoughts. 

Where there used to be ideas, creativity, and plots worth scribbling down, there’s now only Logan—a man destined to problematize your stay on earth.

That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.

And yet, despite all of it, you continue to prioritize someone else. Someone who isn’t even here. Clung to the idea of a soulmate, you chose him over Logan.

What did he expect? For you to abandon your principles, your belief in destiny? It’s who you are. Nearly thirty years of life guided by one belief can’t just be discarded like trash.

You liked to separate things into categories: good and bad, right and wrong. A simple method to structure everything, to make sense of your world, and it has worked most of the time.

But now? The limits of those sacred categories look blurred. Your judgment feels unreliable, and you wonder if the choices you’ve made lately have been the correct ones.

Each of your decisions seems to be leading you further down a path you can’t recognize. 

What’s the goal? Finding your soulmate, the voice in your head mockingly answers for the hundredth time, rolling its imaginary eyes. And where is he?

You’ve shut Logan out, a man who’s made it clear he has feelings for you, for this elusive person. Isn’t it time he steps into the light at long last?

This is what you fear the most: loneliness.

You don’t want to be the lone woman who sits by herself in a cafe, drawing pity from waitresses who discuss her solitude. By no means do you wish to be that friend who dispenses wise dating advice, but goes home to an empty bed. You refuse to become the godmother whose hand no one holds when her time comes.

No, this can’t be all fate has to offer to you. There must be more. If your life were a book, you’d be flipping through the pages to the last chapter, desperate to see how it ends.

Or, better yet, you’d grab a pen and rewrite it yourself. What kind of ending you’ll have—you’re not so sure about that.

It’s Sunday, one of those endless weekends where the only way to survive is by rearranging your entire apartment. You could manage it alone, but help would be nice—Wade’s help, to be more precise, would be perfect for this kind of task, and you find yourself knocking on his door. 

No answer. Deciding to dial his number to see if he’s fallen asleep, you try calling him, waiting through the rings until he finally picks up. “Hey.”

Except it’s not Wade’s voice that answers. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

The door swings open, and Logan appears right behind it, holding Wade’s phone to his ear.

He narrows his eyes, leaning against the frame, a single eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “How sad. You don’t remember what I sound like.”

You feel foolish for still being on the call, so you lock your phone, ending it. “Where’s Wade?” you ask, frowning as you hold your breath, your voice sharper than intended.

“Out and about. Didn’t tell me where he was going,” Logan replies, glaring at you as he raises the phone to your face. “He left without this.”

Abort mission! Nodding in agreement, you begin to step back. “Great, I’ll look for him later.”

You’re close to being locked up once again in the safety of your apartment when you hear him: “You need anything?”

It’s the most he’s said to you in weeks. You hesitate, keeping your back turned. “I’m moving some heavy stuff around. Thought I could use the help.”

“I could do it.”

No. Not really. He’s doing that thing again—offering help when you know you shouldn’t accept it. You shake your head.

“It’s not necessary,” you say, forcing a casual tone.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he retorts, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as they draw closer. With each passing second, your options shrink, leaving you no room for retreat. “Don’t worry. I won’t try to kiss you again if that’s what’s got you all worked up.”

“I’m not worked up,” you hiss, and he sidesteps you easily, his arm nudging yours.

The electricity is still there, undeniable, but neither of you has the courage to acknowledge it, acting as though it’s an ordinary occurrence.

His eyes roam the room, like he’s forgotten what your apartment looked like. He pauses by the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spine of Jane Eyre, and a low whistle escapes him as he slips it back into place. 

You, frozen at the threshold, feel your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and the urge to hide in your bedroom only becomes stronger.

After this, you’ll have to burn your favorite book. What a pity.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the loops of his jeans, his posture both confident and annoyingly relaxed.

There’s a challenge in his tone, and he acts as if you’re the one who pulled him into this situation—like he didn’t worm his way in here.

You gesture toward the couch. “Can you put it by the window?”

He sets to work, moving the smaller pieces of furniture aside to make space for the couch. Under no circumstances are you going to just stand there and watch him sweat.

Instead, you busy yourself with the long-forgotten glasses and cups gathering dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, each one glinting with past disappointments.

Wetting a towel, you start by wiping the rims. The air feels heavily charged with uneasiness, but you're relieved that for once, you can breathe without feeling like you’re on the brink of a heart attack.

You can already imagine Wade’s face when you tell him—

“So,” Logan’s voice cuts through the silence, startling you, “how’s the search going? Got any luck?”

His words have the desired effect on you, and the glass slips from your grasp, shattering against the floor in a crash that mirrors the jump of your heart. You curse under your breath, stepping back from the mess, taking in the shards sprawled around your shoes.

“Be careful,” he says from the other side of the room, still dragging the furniture into place, and you scrutinize him over your shoulder, your brows knitted.

“I don’t need your advice,” you murmur through gritted teeth as you crouch to pick up the larger shards. His attention returns to the couch, but you guess he’s not technically thinking how nice of a person you are.

As you kneel, your hands tremble slightly, and you wonder when that started. You fumble for a larger shard of glass, bracing your hand against the floor for balance, unaware of the smaller piece lying dangerously close to your fingers.

The sting comes fast, slicing through the skin of your pinky. You flinch, raising your hand, and Logan, hearing the faint wince, abandons his task and crosses the room to you.

"I don’t need your advice," he echoes, mocking your tone as he squats beside you, his hand closing around yours to inspect the wound. "You’re bleeding."

“Brilliant observation, Sherlock. I hadn’t noticed—” The words die in your throat, your eyes widening as you take a closer look at his hand. “Wait, why are you bleeding?”

He snorts, diverting his attention to his own hand. “What do you mean I’m—” Whatever it is he intended to shoot back remains unsaid as both of you stare down at the small cut in his pinky.

Driven by instinct, you place your hands side by side, your finger grazing his. The cuts are identical: same place, same width, same depth. The only difference is his vanishes within seconds, leaving only a few droplets of crimson blood as evidence.

Logan couldn’t have cut himself. He was nowhere near the glass. “Are you…?” You swallow thickly, trying to string together a coherent thought, dizziness making its triumphant appearance. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes.”

“And what is that—”

“I need a drink.”

“Can you stop acting like a dick for one second?” You peer into his glossy eyes, watching him try to avoid your gaze, though he can’t seem to resist. “Please, Logan. Look at me.”

When he does, his mouth parts as if to speak, then closes again. “I don’t understand. I thought I didn’t have a soulmate.” His gruff tone slows even further, like he's straining to push the words from his lungs. “I thought—I thought I was alone.”

It explains so much: how your scars had reappeared once he and Wade returned from The Void. 

The instant attraction, the yearning to be near him.

The dread that washed over you each time he walked away.

The dreams that plagued your nights, and the tightness in your chest these past few weeks that made you wonder if you could ever coexist in the same space as him without breaking apart.

All those times you felt he was getting closer weren’t just a figment of your imagination—he was, in fact, right there.

But he wasn’t just anyone—it was him. Logan is your soulmate. You two are meant to be together. How long would it take for you to truly believe it? Until it no longer sounded like something too good to be true?

Without uttering a sound, Logan gazes at you, silently pleading to see them. To see your scars. You extend your arm, and with a gentle motion, he rolls up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the marks etched into your skin.

He runs his fingers along the lines, trying to understand the bond you now share—both his and yours.

In a sense, you’re his. You carry his scars, the physical manifestation of the life he has lived. Even though he may not bear any of his own, you do, and that’s more than enough.

He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

“There are more,” you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. He stands, offering you his hand, and you take it, rising to your feet. Logan inches closer, his mouth hovering just above yours, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The look he gives you is one reserved for those he loves, a look filled with such warmth and affection that it almost feels dreamlike.

“Do you want me to see them?” he inquires, and all he needs is a nod from you to gently tug your shirt up your chest and over your head.

He lets out a dry chuckle when you attempt to tame your hair, the effort proving to be in vain. The clock on the wall seems to pause its ticking the moment his fingers begin to trail each of the scars that captures his gaze.

You can’t even begin to fathom what thoughts might be swirling in his mind, but if the flicker of lust and desire you catch in his expression is anything to go by, you’re not so worried.

Logan’s touch carries an unexpected softness, a tenderness you never imagined a man like him could possess.

Deep down, you wish he understood that these scars don’t hurt, that they never have. “I’m okay,” you reassure him, prompting him to explore more of your skin, to claim you as his.

“Do you… like them?” he asks without meeting your eyes.

Do you like my scars? is the real question hidden underneath.

Do you like me? is the one he can’t bring himself to pronounce.

“They’re yours. I could never not like them.” 

Before you stands a man you once believed was meant to be your burden, your trial. Logan had been the earthquake sent to test your endurance, to see how much you could withstand before surrendering and waving the white flag.

The same fingers that once imprinted his mark on you now linger on the strap of your bra, waiting for you to decide whether to let him go further or stop.

Desire has a limit before it overwhelms. There’s only so much need a person can contain before it spills over, uncontrollable and raw.

This game, one you never learned how to play, feels as foreign to him as it does to you—neither of you knows the rules.

“Can I see more?” He’s still talking about the scars, still fumbling with the strap, and you nod, your eyelids growing droopier as you take his free hand and direct it to the front of your jeans.

He catches the hint, undoing the button with ease, allowing you to shed the last layers of restraint.

Bare, moments away from being completely naked, standing in stark contrast to Logan, who remains fully clothed, your stomach does a flip as he rubs his thumb along the sides of your underwear.

Leaning your forehead against his shoulder, you stifle a sigh when he splays his hand across your lower back, pulling you closer.

His rough grip tightens on your ass, testing the feel of you, while your breathing becomes shallow, erratic.

“What is it, honey?” He slides his fingers your stomach, just below your belly button, brushing a small scar in there. “Want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you croak, the plea slipping out involuntarily, throwing your arms around his neck. He buries his face against your jaw, his lips parting against your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to him, breathless as you whisper: “I’ve waited so long.”

He moves toward the couch, and you follow, trying to anticipate what he’s got planned for you. “I know, baby. I know. You’ve waited long enough.” Guiding your body down, he has you lying horizontally on the sofa. He unhooks your bra, kneading your breasts with both hands, eliciting a ragged gasp from you. “But I’m here now. You don’t have to wait any longer,” he huffs by your ear, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and inviting. “Gonna let me make you feel good? Show you how much I’ve been thinkin’ about you?”

Instead of answering with real words, you surge forward, crashing your lips against with his, reveling in the way he cages you with his biceps, locking you up in a prison of desire from which you never wish to break free. He tries not to settle his full weight on top of you, attentive not to crush you.

As he nips at the column of your throat, you squirm beneath him, canting your hips up to seek the friction you crave.

He presses his knee against your center and you push back, grinding against him with an animalistic urgency.

You can’t recall ever feeling this desperate, this overwhelmed by a man. But then again, he’s unlike any other you’ve encountered in your array of momentary hookups.

His kisses grow even more insistent as breathy moans roll off to your tongue, merging with the occasional creak of the couch beneath your movements.

Logan spreads your thighs wider, sinking to his knees on the floor to tug your lower half forward until your ass is almost hanging in the air. He places your thighs on his shoulders, supporting you as he leans in to pepper your soft flesh with kisses.

One can be certain that he’s marking your inner thighs with a hickey or two, the scratch of his beard feeling magnificent against your sensitive skin, and you can hardly bring yourself to think about the potential burn he’ll leave behind. Logan inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dangerously close to your cunt, and you tangle a hand in his hair as he continues to test your patience.

“Eager?” he wonders aloud, looking at you through his lashes. While maintaining eye contact, he presses a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties.

He does it again, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers deftly pulling your underwear down your legs.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds has you scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair. Logan moans against you, the sound muffled as he dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance, lapping at your arousal with an insatiable hunger.

The way you purr his name—a soft caress, a pat on his back that says Yeah, you’re doing fine—only spurs him on, infusing every one of his ministrations with fervor.

His longing for you radiates in the intensity of his touch, sending shivers through you, making you writhe because of his hands alone.

Your core throbs. Your skin prickles with electricity. Your legs quake on either side of his face. He’s hungry and you’re his feast. He’s parched and you’re the last bottle of water in an arid world.

Logan eats you out like this will be the only time he’ll have the privilege—each movement calculated, pushing all the right buttons, pulling out every trick he knows to make you think No, it doesn’t get any better than this. This is as much as one can get.

Then his fingers join the symphony of pleasure, pumping in and out of you as he keeps flicking your clit with expert precision, and your back arches from the couch, following his pace with your hips. He pushes back, you push forward—he pushes forward, you push back.

Who is enjoying this more: him or you?

His pointed tongue teases your bud, matched with the persistent hammering of his fingers plunged into your wet heat. The combination has you coming on his mouth, falling over the precipice while you struggle to keep yourself together.

Your walls flutter around his digits, and your cries fuse with his groans, both overshadowed by his insatiable desire to savor until the last drop of your release.

Shockwaves ripple through your body and you prop your weight on your arms to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, your eyes rolling rolling back in ecstasy as you taste yourself, a mix of sour and sweet.

In a frenzy, he sheds his clothes, practically tearing them away, and you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with your kisses. Logan pulls back, panting against you, and you steal a glance at him.

Your gaze travels down to his hard cock, the tip a furious red, and he seizes your wrist.

“Why don’t you kiss it better?” he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. In this moment, you’re taken aback by his beauty, and the urge to express it rises within you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur against his thigh, showering his skin with heated kisses. You stare in disbelief at the trail of hair leading to his girth, mouth watering at the sight.

A kiss on the tip, followed by a broad lick along a prominent vein—Logan’s grip on the armrest tightens, his knuckles turning white. “So perfect.”

“Shut up,” he retorts breathlessly, but you revel in the strangled noise that escapes him as you take him deeper, his head disappearing between your lips. His palm rests on your nape, anchoring you in place. “Goddammit. The fuckin’—mouth you have on you.”

You try to take him in further once you’re feeling more confident, while Logan fights with all his might against the need to thrust his hips up into your warmth. He can’t stay still, grunting and smothering you with lavish praise that heightens your arousal, slick pouring out of you in waves.

“Pretty thing you are. Don’t even know how to function around you. You got me all—fuck, actin’ all stupid.”

At one point, he tells you to stop, because he doesn’t want to come just yet. You know what comes next as he rubs his cock along your folds, blending your wetness with his precum.

It’s sloppy, and dirty, and messy—and God, do you love it.

He sinks into you and the world collides in a way you never expected. Everything you thought you knew falls apart, leaving you stranded in unfamiliar territory.

You can’t comprehend how you’ve spent so many years without him. Without this.

Your lips find his, and he swallows every sound he punches out of your lungs. His thrusts grow harder and faster as you adjust to his size, how big he feels inside you.

He digs his fingers into the globes of your ass, yanking you towards his shaft every time he fucks into you. You feel the brush of his balls against your skin, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

You come to understand it fully as his eyes flicker to yours, checking for any signs of discomfort in your features.

You understand why people write books and songs about love when he breathes your name in the shell of your ear, chanting how good you’re taking him, how tight and wet you are for him.

You understand the place love occupies in your life as the sound of your bodies slapping together creates a melody which has never been played before.

You understand why you’ve searched for this your entire life, lifting every carpet in hopes of uncovering the love you’ve pined for.

In the past, it had always felt like a race—finding your soulmate before the clock struck twelve. Now that you have him, you wonder what the future holds for you, how this connection will evolve.

For now, you can allow yourself the possibility of relishing the drag of his cock in your interior. His pace doesn’t falter for a second—something about mutants and their non-stop stamina, no doubt. He shoves a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing circles on your already swollen bud.

Each time he fills you to the brim, you have to ground yourself, resisting the pull of an altered reality.

“So full,” you blurt out, mewling with a specially hard thrust, a chocked sob lodged in your throat. “Please, stay.”

It could mean many things: Please, keep fucking me. Please, don’t leave after this. Please, remain by my side form this moment onward, because I don’t know how to go on with my life now that I’ve experienced this closeness.

Whatever meaning he ascribes to your words is of little importance. He tightens his arms around you, kissing you deeply, tongue and teeth clashing as they compete to see who wins the battle. “Never. I’m never lettin’ you go, y’hear me?”

Heat pools in your lower back, a coiling tension radiating through your limbs. “You’re mine, princess. Can’t afford to lose you now that I found you. Gonna remind you every day.”

His rambling pushes you over the edge, your dripping cunt spasming around him as you reach your climax, moaning his name against his shoulder. You cling to him, convulsing beneath his body, and he grinds his hips into yours, his chest rumbling as he growls.

“Inside,” you mumble, extending your hand to press it to his waist. “Need you inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

Logan stutters against you, his forehead falling against your collarbone as he finishes with one powerful thrust, his cock pulsing warm ropes of come within your cunt. You clench around him, whining as he prolongs both your pleasure and his, milking the last drop of his seed. His voice is a constant murmur, filling every space in the room until he slumps against you.

Night has fallen. The cut on your pinky no longer stings. Your scars, after all, are still there, nestled against Logan’s unmarked skin. You caress his back, sighing contentedly as a wave of peace washes over you.

You’ve never felt this relaxed.

Logan grasps your chin and tilts it up, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey,” he mutters, his gaze roaming all over your face.

You cup his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your palm. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see.”

A genuine laugh pierces through the silence. the kind he rarely allows himself. Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes, his brow furrowing as he glances at you with love.

Love—hadn’t you pondered its existence for so long? Your fuel for living, the muse behind your best poems, a recurring motif in your fantasies.

Love now has Logan’s name written in ink, no longer a blank canvas awaiting its unknown owner. No—it’s all his now.

You’d do it all over again if it meant ending up like this, tangled and intertwined, with the promise of a future together. He has many stories to share—about his past universe, about himself. You have secrets to unveil, too. There’s so much you both have yet to discover about each other.

But time isn’t up. This isn’t a race, you remind yourself: things are just getting started.

Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up. Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

Finally, you’ve wrapped love around your finger.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[idontmindifuforgetme]

i straightened my hair one (1) time. this is the first time in like 3 months. i just wanted to switch it up a little. then today i wash my hair and my day 1s are usually my best BUT today it's not as bouncy or shiny as it usually is. and i know it's bc of that one time. i literally was so careful to protect it from heat as much as i possibly could. but it's not enough. it's never enough

people who don't have naturally curly hair will never understand the hoops we have to jump through to keep our curls as healthy as they possibly could be. i am so serious

[loonylupinblack3]

Wife?

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar accidently slips up in an interview and calls you something you're not.... yet

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: how is this man my favourite driver and i haven't written about him yet?

You were in the Mclaren garage, earmuffs firmly in place as your eyes followed the bright orange car on track. The remnants of the crash between Sainz and Perez could still be seen, your heart giving a nervous squeeze whenever your gaze slid to it. 

You could feel cameras watching you, people’s eyes darting to you every now and then, wanting to see your reaction whenever something happened involving Oscar. For the most part you composed yourself well when watching your boyfriend race, keeping your panic, fear, and nausea to yourself. You were well practised in the art of keeping a steady facade, what with being an actress and having people stare at you wherever you went.

Still, you couldn’t help the little gasps that escaped you each time they passed turn 20 and Charles got dangerously close in the space between turn 20 and turn 1. Each time Charles got closer and closer to overtaking Oscar, and each time you were watching with bated breath wondering if this was the time he’d finally take your boyfriend’s position.

Yet he never did, and you watched with an overwhelming joy as Oscar finished the Azerbaijan Grand Prix first, the black and white chequered flag telling the world of your boyfriend's achievement. You laughed, clapping your hands, beaming at the screen in front of you. Cheers rose up from the people around you, guests and workers alike celebrating the success of the team.

You hurried out of the garage, walking the now familiar path to the crowd waiting underneath the podium, where you’d stay to watch Oscar retrieve his trophy. You’d known his last win hadn’t been perfect, and your celebrations together had been dampened slightly. Today though, you knew you’d be celebrating. You could already see your boyfriend’s telltale smile as he walked onto the first place podium, a restrained smile that looked polite to anyone else but to you confessed his excitement and pride.

You cheered with everyone else as he received his trophy, throwing his arm in the air triumphantly as his gaze searched the crowd. When he found you his smile widened just a tad. Still polite as ever but softer. His eyes were also telling you everything the distance between you wouldn’t allow. That he loved you. That he was so happy. That he felt like he meant something, which of course he did.

The next few hours were very busy for your boyfriend. He was the man of the hour, the person everyone wanted to talk to and congratulate. You’d had a passing kiss and hug, murmuring how proud you were of him before he was whisked away again, but you didn’t mind. You let these people have their precious few hours with him because after that he was all yours.

Oscar, on the other hand, wasn’t happy with it. He’d just made an incredible achievement in his life, something he’d been working for since he was a kid, and he wanted to celebrate with you, not reporters and interviewers.

So when he spotted you walking with Alex, Charles’ girlfriend, he took his chance, grabbing your hand and dragging you over with him. You gave him a confused smile. “What’re you doing?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to be with you. If I have to do this I want you to do it with me too.”

The reporter in front of him cooed, as did the surrounding people listening in. You gave him a smile, not minding one bit. Your boyfriend had such a soft, loving side the media didn’t get to see much, so you were glad they were finally discovering what a sweetheart Oscar was.

And that’s how you found yourself attending race briefings and interviews with your boyfriend. You had to admit, it was a little boring, and sometimes you couldn’t keep up with the conversation, your limited Formula One knowledge failing you during speedy discussions on cars and strategies. Still, you could see how happier Oscar was with you there, his hand resting comfortably on your waist, which was why you pasted on a smile and endured it.

It was nearing the end of the briefings, freedom so close you could almost taste it, as Oscar finished up with the last couple of interviews. You were both ready to leave, the sky having turned dark long ago, and tiredness made way to a faulty filter in Oscar’s case.

“And you’ve got your girlfriend here,” the interviewer said, a young girl around your age, 23 or 24. “I bet she’s proud of you.”

Oscar turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows in question and you let a giddy smile cross your face. “‘Course I am. Couldn’t be prouder.”

Oscar, preening at your compliments, snuck a quick kiss on your cheek, much to the entertainment of the interviewer, talking of how wonderful you seemed together.

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Oscar agreed. One thing you knew he loved nearly as much as racing was talking about you. “I’m incredibly lucky to her have her as my wife- uh, I mean-”

Your eyes went wide, as did the interviewer’s, her mouth dropping slightly. “Wife? Did we miss something?”

“Did I miss something?” you murmured to him, though you were not at all upset. Quite the contrary, actually, fighting the large smile threatening to spread across your face.

“No, no, I didn’t mean—uh, she’s not, not yet—uh, let’s move on—” Oscar was stumbling over his words, a rare sight, and you were biting your lip hard because you felt grinning like a maniac would not help him at the moment.

But he was going to receive many words later.

You received applause as you entered the stage, waving your hand at the audience as you sat down in the lush armchair, facing Jimmy Fallon behind his desk. You always loved going on his show, good friends with Jimmy on screen and off.

He gave you a warm welcome, speaking of your new movie that released a couple months ago and the launching of your new perfume, which you were quite excited about and more than happy to talk with Jimmy about. 

“And, I’m sorry, I just have to bring this up,” Jimmy started, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We all saw Oscar accidentally call you his wife on live TV after that big win. Did he get a talking-to for that slip-up?”

The audience laughed and you with them, remembering Oscar’s flushed face when you got back to the hotel room, his rambled explanation and apology. You also remembered what had followed, which is what spurred you to give a sly smile to Jimmy – “There was definitely some talking” – and take out your left hand you’d been sitting on and flash it to the audience.

More specifically, the jewel sitting on your ring finger.

The crowd gasped and applauded, the noise in the room reaching the limit, as Jimmy covered his mouth in shock before clapping along, congratulating you. You were full on grinning now, drinking in everyone’s happiness that only elevated your own.

“So next time Oscar refers to you as his wife it won’t be a slip-up, huh?” Jimmy asked brightly.

You grinned, nodding. “Next time he calls me his wife it’ll be because I am.”

[a-b-riddle]

Part 10

Can't stop thinking about reader realizing she fucked up.

"What?" You asked, unsure if you heard him correctly. "I did stuff for Simon." He opened his mouth slightly before shutting it, almost as if he was afraid to argue with you. He was. "I did things for Simon." You repeated. "I did."

You took pause. Racking your brain for examples to throw in his face. You had always tried to be the best girlfriend. and look where it had gotten you. You were always the one to reach out, to plan dates. The only one to manage your time equally among all of them even if it meant stretching yourself then.

But the more you thought, the more you came up short.

"I definitely treated Simon the same." You defend.

Here lately you had been spending more time with the others than Simon. Every evening was the same without fail. He would call you no later than 9, asking if you were busy. Sometimes you were already out with the others, but in the instances you weren't Simon would ask to come over. An excuse of not being able to sleep.

When he first gave you that excuse, you expected him to be using it as just an excuse to come over and fuck you.

But he didn't.

Not that night. Or the next.

The third time he did fuck you. He was a man, not a saint after all. You weren't sure if it was because he was the last one you got around to being intimate with, but it just felt different. The others were great. Letting you turn your brain off and letting them take control.

Where the others took the reins, Simon guided you. It was more like dancing than fucking. Your bodies working in harmony with one another. He would listen intently to each little moan or staggered breath you took. Wouldn't take his eyes off of your face when he ate your cunt. Wanting to take in every reaction you would give him.

He had created a flow of how to fuck you. A way to ensure he pulled several orgasms from you before you practically passed out from exhaustion. You would try and switch things up with different positions and giving him head, but Simon was a simple man. Once he found a way that worked, he stuck with it. He let you indulge. Spicing things up, but he always made a home in between your thighs at some point.

It had been like that ever since. Over and over again like clock work, he would call. He wouldn't always fuck you. Mostly either one or both of you complaining about a hard day and insisting on just having the company of the other. However, it wasn't until Mere had made a comment on why she hadn't met Simon yet.

It was like finally noticing something on a commute you took everyday. Day in and day out you came across it without every really taking note. How oblivious you had been.

Simon had only came over at night. Although he would bring take out or cook dinner with you, he had never taken you out on a date. Not even so much as a cup of coffee-- tea in his case.

You pressed him about it one night.

You seem pretty busy during the day. Plus, that's when I catch up on sleep was his reasoning and you didn't press him.

Simon had always complained about not being able to sleep. You didn't mind the company. So whenever he called and you were free. That's just how the relationship had been between you two. You both seemed satisfied with the dynamic.

"It was just different with me and Si," you defended. "He didn't need any help from me or ask it." You wanted to say he hadn't been as needy as Johnny, Kyle or John, but kept that opinion to yourself.

"Or did he just not feel like he could ask you?" Kyle's question gave you a moment of pause. Your mouth falling open. Appalled at the suggestion.

"Don't try and turn this around on me." You narrow your eyes at Kyle and his audacity. You were the one who was hurt. You didn't like being the victim, but in this scenario you were. "If Simon had any issue he would have said something."

"Like you did with us?" He asked. His boldness growing. "And I'm not trying to turn this around on you, I'm just saying that there everyone had their issues in not communicating on what was really going on. I should have told you how I felt, they should have told you and you should have told us."

"Oh," you said, head tilting to the side and condescension lacing your tone. "So when was I supposed to do that? When John was snapping at me or Johnny had his tongue buried inside of me. God knows you weren't exactly answering my texts and Simon had been the only one I didn't have issues with."

"But you still came to him about us." Outed was the only word fitting enough to describe how you felt. You had tried to keep your relationships separate as well as the issues and frustrations that came along with it.

"He told you?" You asked, feeling embarrassed and, somewhat, fearful about what exactly Simon had said to them. The asshole was just so easy to talk to. For someone who was so reserved, you found it second nature to open up to him. "When?"

"Any chance he got." Kyle huffed. The confession shocked you. If anything, yes, maybe John would have been the one to tell the boys to fall in line if he knew they were falling short, but Simon? The man who couldn't ever be bothered to plan a date?

"I don't understand." You shook your head as if that would jumble the pieces of your thoughts well enough that they would somehow fit together; painting you a clearer picture. "Simon... he..." His words echoed in your mind. Even now they still haunted you. A ghost reminding you of your naivety. "He said some really shitty things."

"I know." Kyle's face fell and you could almost see the anger flicker in his eyes before it extinguished into something more solemn. "He knew he was the last thing holding you to us. Severing that tie would make it easier for you to lease."

"Losing you wasn't easy." You replied through clenched teeth. Tears prickling your eyes. "Is that what you think? That this has been easy for me?"

"I don't think it's been easy, but I know it's the truth." A small part of you knew he was right. And you hated him for it. "Simon was the only one putting in any effort on our end. He was the only reason we didn't lose you sooner." He took your hand in his. Rubbing small circles in your palm. Something he did to soothe. Funny how now the gesture was breaking your heart. "If it's any consolation, he didn't mean what he said."

You scoff, tears now falling as you pull your hand from him. "Just because he didn't mean it, doesn't mean it's not true." You cross your arms over your chest. No longer giving him the chance to try and reach out again.

"Do you think any of us actually felt that way about you?" Kyle asked, his tone a mixture between disbelief and sorrow. He knew Simon's words were meant to cut, but their actions had made his declaration deem true.

"You didn't exactly prove otherwise." The confirmation causes him to falter, not knowing what to say, how to comfort you. It was like somewhere along the way he had lost the knowledge on how to treat you, how to care for you. It was like he didn't know you, but still loved you all the same.

It was killing him.

After several uncomfortable moments of silence, he spoke. "I know John told you we were all on our own in terms of fixing this. But I want you to know that we all regret how we went about things. How we treated you was unacceptable and there is truly no excuse. I can only hope that you let us have the privilege in at least trying to make it up to you."

You let out a breath. Your chest aching as a sob threatens to bubble to the surface.

You swallow it down.

"So I take it then Johnny is taking the same route as Simon?" You couldn't blame him. You had put the final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Fucking and leaving him like that... Not to mention all the details Kyle gave you of the aftermath. No doubt Johnny would feel like being forgiven was pointless by now.

"Johnny is chomping at the fuckin' bit." He laughed. "If Simon and Price weren't keeping a leash on him right now he'd be here right now and I don't think we could get him out of here a second time."

"Well three out of four then." You sighed. "I just can't believe it got this far." Shaking your head, you leaned back against the cushions "I mean, I get that all of you had your own lives, families and stuff going on... But even then, I can't believe Simon found it so easy to say those things. Looking back, yeah, I wasn't girlfriend of the year, but I wasn't a bad girlfriend."

Silence.

"Kyle?" He bit his lips. He wanted to say something. "Kyle." You pressed. "Out with it."

"You don't need to bring it up."

"Fine." You said, but technically didn't promise anything.

"And it's not your fault for forgetting." Your patience was growing thin. Your emotional battery was low and even with a good nights rest you knew it would take a while before it recharged. "Fuck," Kyle rubbed his face, contemplating best how to tell you. "The night you called Simon..." he explained. "It was April 25th."

You waited, not completing grasping what he was trying to say.

April 25th...

What was so damn special about April 25th that made Simon so fucking angry? You didn't buy the whole 'letting you go thing', so it had to be something

Why that day?

April 25th: not an anniversary or a birthday. Not Easter or Christmas. Simon really didn't celebrate Christmas given what happened to Tommy, Beth and Joseph.

Joseph...

Fuck. Joseph.

Your throat felt fight.

What had you done?

He probably just got home from the cemetery when you called to cry about Johnny. Fuck.

Joseph's birthday.

Simon was a man that didn't do a lot of sentimental things. But every year, on Joseph's birthday he would visit his nephew's plot with a toy. You didn't know what he said or how long he stayed but he indulged you once. Telling you he just went, sat by with the toy next to the headstone for a bit before leaving.

Simon was reliving one of the happiest days of his life that was now tainted. And you complained about Johnny leaving after fucking you.

"Oh my God." You drew out shakily. Kyle could see the tears beginning to form. Horror manifesting in your eyes. "What the fuck?"

"You didn't know." He tried to soothe as if that were some sort of excuse.

"I forgot." Confessing it out loud felt like a spike going straight through your chest. "How the fuck did I forget?" Kyle didn't know what else to do. Fuck whatever awkwardness and boundaries you would set before fully accepting him back, he pulled you to his chest, allowing you to sob.

You weren't sure how long you had sat there. Kyle's arms enveloping you as you released it all. Eventually you did subside. His shirt marked with evidence of your tears and snot.

"No wonder he fucking hates me." You said it so softly, so broken, Kyle's heart broke for you.

"Simon doesn't hate you." His attempt of soothing you was admirable, but you knew it wasn't true. How could someone not hate another person after that? Forgetting the birthday of your brutally murdered nephew to call and bitch about not getting cuddled after sex. "If he did, he wouldn't have made sure you got home okay after your date. And the guy at the club-"

"He told you about that?" You shouldn't have been shocked. After all John knew.

"Only after he asked to standby in case bail was needed." He tried to joke. "The point is, there is coming back from this." Taking his thumbs, he brushed away the stray tears that hadn't made it to his shirt. "For all of us."

[jellojelli]

Fontaine Boys: Calling them by their names

Lyney

This guy pretty much made it a thing after you started using pet names that you no longer knew a Lyney, only a baby, sweetie, honey, sugar, etc. So, don't think that pulling this prank will go over his head or that he'll let you off easy for trying to tease him like this. Because Lyney? He will never forget this injustice until he can return that favor tenfold

When you say it, just as he is leaving for work/practice with Lynette, he stalls in the hallway as he tries to process what you just did to him, because surely his sweet, loving, and gorgeous lover would never stop using his pet names without a justifiable reason. This man goes through 4 stages of grief in .2 seconds and basically sprints to the nearest calendar to see the date, anniversary, or birthday he surely must've forgotten

Because, surely, he missed something, right? right?

"Love... did I forget something?" Lyney sounds so different from usual. Almost panicked really.

This can go one of two ways:

If you can keep a straight face and keep calling him Lyney he gets more and more panicked, basically begging at your feet to tell him what he did to deserve such cold, heartless, and diabolical treatment until you give and tell him its a prank

If you can't keep a straight face Lyney can see the devious little smile on your face and pretty much gawks at you in disbelief

either way it ends with him giving you a taste of your own medicine for the rest of the day. Because really, how could you do this to him right before his practice?

So if you can't handle that, don't do that to Lyney because he can be just as teasing and mean about it no matter how much he loves you, and if you keep it up through the whole day too he will continue it into the next day until you stop

or maybe he'll do something about that attitude of yours? ;)

Freminet

Are you a monster?

Genuinely why would you do this to him after all the work it took to get him to accept and also call you petnames?

Fremi thinks the world is ending tbh. He was on his way out to go diving and you just??? dropped this on him?? Are you breaking up with him?? Is he in trouble?? Please tell him it is a prank immediately or he will cry

Just like his brother he rushes to a calendar and checks every box to make sure he didn't miss anything today and for the last month or so just to be sure. And the panic that sets in when he sees that he didn't, now he's really sure you're about to say you don't love him anymore

It doesn't even matter if you can keep a straight face or not because he is in full panic mode and can't think straight enough to see that you're just pulling his leg

This poor boy is taking off his backpack and shoes and either sitting across from you or standing right in front of you with the most pitiful face asking you what's wrong

"My little marintine rose.... y/n honey....what's wrong? Did I... make you angry? Is it the diving? You can come with me, you know I love it when you come with me" Cue the biggest puppy eyes with tears

Please tell him soon that this is just a prank because again, he can and will cry if you keep this up any longer than a few minutes.

Neuvillette

He deadass walks out the door and takes a few minutes outside before he turns around and makes his way back inside calmly. Neuvillette is positive he misheard. His mind is playing tricks, or maybe he's getting old and his hearing is failing him because there is no way you just called him Neuvillette, his full government name, and not Neuvi, baby, honey, love, or something like that

He'd even accept a weird pet name like your fridge or your little hilichurl

The thing about Neuvillette is he knows he didn't forget anything. He will not rush to a calendar or even think to do so because he remembers everything you tell him, even things you say in passing. Like that dress you told him about 2 months ago, or the cute sea otter that you said reminded you of him

"Mon amour.... my love, my life, I think I forgot to tell you that I love you and that I'm leaving" He tries to play it cool, Nevi thinks if he can pretend he forgot to say anything that you'll correct yourself

When you don't, you're pretty sure you can hear thunder rumble in the distance as a storm tries to roll in

Say it's a prank right now or it'll storm for a week straight, he may be a big and tough dragon but he cannot handle this from you

If you crack and smile or start laughing Neuvi is not pleased, he's not pleased regardless when you reveal it's a prank

The storm is rolling in for different reasons now

He won't play the prank back on you but expect some long, displeased stares and some major frowns from him

You almost made his heart beat out of his chest in panic

Wriothesley

Wriothesley almost laughs when you call him by his full name and not at least a Wrio

like there is no way he doesn't know you're being a menace right now

so please be prepared for the entire next week because Wrio is ruthless when it comes to payback and he will get his just desserts

I mean really, Wrio is vicious when it comes to throwing this back in your face

"Oh hey there y/n, buddy, pal, my best friend" for a week straight...

So rude....

He will tell you upfront before he leaves for work when you do this that since he's just some guy you know now that he'll call you his friend from now on

and he will just walk right out the door after that. Not even a glance back or a teasing smirk, just leaves the house and goes to work unbothered for the rest of the day

that's what you think anyway, even though he knows this is a prank he actually is really bothered and talks to Sigwennie about what happened and he's pouting and sulking at work

even the inmates at the fortress can see that their boss is bothered by something

Please say sorry soon and start calling him his cute pet names or he's going to struggle at work and Sigwinne can't deal with this for anymore than a day because Wrio can be insufferable

[grimeshound]

HWANG INHO NSFW HCS …

cw: 18+, age gap, daddy kink (inho being fatherly …), intox kink, somno, dirty talk, general filth.

a/n: i’m so sorry this came out way too long & messy ,, long & messy…?!?! , may have some typos. i was writing an inho fic but while writing & coming up with possible ideas, i may have gone a little overboard with the hcs… whoops. anyways head full of inho

—-

• has mastered the art of juggling praising and degrading down to a T. when he has you pinned down fucking you stupid, expect to be hearing the filthiest remarks against your ear.

“that’s my pretty girl, so fucking dirty.”

“just a dumb little fleshlight for me to fill, hmm? so, so good. all for me.”

• he calls you his baby, his sweet girl, his angel, & of course, sweetheart.

• possessive is inho’s middle name. but really, is this shocking news?

• inho never would’ve thought himself to have a daddy kink. not like he wasn’t open to the idea, moreso he never thought he’d get the chance to try it. but ever since you came into his life, you gave him the perfect opportunity.

• he took notice of how much his fatherly nature had you wrapped around his finger. you couldn’t help it, really. the way he’s so protective of you, so patient and caring. the day he called himself daddy in bed, you came so hard you could’ve sworn you were on the brink of blacking out.

“my pretty girl just needed daddy to fuck her right, huh? it’s okay, baby. i’ve got you.” he’d murmur, low groans escaping past parted lips as his thrusts turn sloppier, more frantic and messy at the sound of your moans.

• forced intox kink … i will die on this hill. something about seeing you all dumb & drunk, mind clouded after taking a swig of alcohol gets him hot and bothered.

• somnophiliac. he’ll try his best to be gentle at first to not wake you up, but he can’t help getting lost in the pleasure, pounding himself deeper and deeper until your eyes flutter open.

• the times he uses your mouth, you’re woken up by the sensation of being choked, your airway getting tighter and tighter. tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you frantically grip onto him, gasping for air. he’ll just shush you, hands still pressed firmly against both sides of your head as he fucks your throat.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. s’just daddy… go back to bed, angel.”

• on the topic of choking, inho can’t get enough of it. wrapping his hand around your neck during sex, the choked moans that come from you never fails to make his cock twitch. it drives him up a wall.

• he’d never say it outright, but your age gap makes him so fucking hard. just talking about it with him could serve as foreplay, really. he tries to be sneaky with it, mentioning it in passing.

• he mentions how his age is getting to him, or how young and pretty you are, how he’s “practically old enough to be your father,”. you’d say it’s sick, the only problem being you find it equally as hot.

• for someone of his age, he fucks like a madman. you may be the younger one, but sometimes you find yourself huffing trying to keep up with him. he does most of the work, tells you to just “sit pretty and take it.”, but the times when he’s all tired out and still hard? he’ll lay back on the bed, dark eyes fixed on you as he motions for you to ride him. “get yourself off on daddy’s cock, pretty girl.”

and really, how could you turn that offer down?

[dreamsteddie]

I was feeling inspired and wrote the first little bit of this Yoga Steve Steddie and Buckingham au I was playing with yesterday. Not sure if I'll continue with it, but I had some dialogue floating around in my head and wanted to let it out.

I'm not really experienced in writing dialogue so my apologies if it came out weird.

------

Steve thinks Robin is being ridiculous, but at the same time, he knows firsthand how far someone will go for a crush. Robin calls him a “loverboy” which, is not completely off the mark but feels unnecessary to point out right after Steve gets ghosted…again.

But that’s beside the point. The point being that Robin has been going off about how she cornered herself into going to an intermediate yoga class to try and woo the cute girl who sits in front of her in her mandatory Writing 212 class. Apparently, Robin got a full two minutes of conversation in with said girl, a real feat since Robin usually spends the whole class psyching herself up to talk to her and then chickens out and dashes out the door as soon as class lets out. During said conversation, Robin found out Chrissy is a yoga instructor at the rec off campus, which resulted in Robin blurting out that she’s been meaning to take up yoga again (she’s never been) and that she’ll stop by a class sometime.

Which leads to now.

“-and I’ve never done yoga! I’ve never even thought about yoga except for that one time my hippie aunt Jen came to stay with us for a week and took up the entire living room every morning to do her weird stretches-” breath “and you know how clumsy I am! I’m going completely fall on my face and the angle that is Chrissy Cunningham is going to know that I’m a failed jock with no coordination and she’ll never fall in love with me!” she finally stops, taking a big heaving breath.

Steve, used to these occasional Robin Buckley rants had been leaning against the breakfast bar letting her go on for the last three and a half minutes. Sometimes it’s just better to let her get it out first.

“You done?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m done,” she replies, flopping on the sofa behind her like all the wind has gone out of her sails. Steve hates to see her upset, but at the end of the day, it’s an easy fix.

“Sweet. So I’ll just go with you alright? And when you completely biff it and fall on your face I’ll just,” he steps away from the bar and mimes falling onto the couch next to her, ignoring her over-exaggerated oof, “fall even harder, or whatever. Make a whole scene of it.” Robin glares a little at the when, but ultimately can’t be upset when they both know it’s inevitable.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes big and blue in a way that always makes Steve want to punch a wall. He doesn’t. Only did it once when they were both supremely drunk and feeling emotional, but he does wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll even find a cool yoga babe of my own to woo,” he says while waggling his brows in a way that makes her scrunch up her nose.

“As if Harrington. I bet you’ll fall even more than me. You’re big jock muscles aren’t designed for flexibility,” she says with a faux pretentious accent.

“We’ll see about that, Buckley.”

------

Steve, much to Robin’s chagrin, does not fall on his face. Well, he does once, but it’s only because he’s following through on his promise to crash out for her when she falls on her face. Which she does almost as soon as Chrissy gives the instruction to lift their left leg while in downward dog. Unfortunately, it only worked the first time. The second time Robin crashed down, Steve wasn’t in a safe position to fall with her. By the time he was, the moment had passed. Luckily it’s nearing the end of the class when it happens and Chrissy mercifully releases them to relax in a corpse pose which, if you asked Robin, was perfectly fitting given the situation.

Steve though.

Steve really enjoyed the class.

Robin was right when he said his usual exercise regime wasn’t necessarily focused on flexibility and balance, but he finds yoga challenging in a gentler way than basketball or swimming. By the end of the day, he’s signing up for the full 12-week course and talking to Chrissy about what kind of equipment he should invest in.

“The most important thing is the grip. Mine was really expensive but I use it for work so I wouldn’t get the same one unless you’re planning to use it every day. If you’re comfortable giving me your number, I can send you some links to more reasonably priced ones.” Wow, Steve gets why Robin likes her so much. She’s like a walking ray of sunshine. Part of him wonders if she’s hitting on him, but she seems like she genuinely wants to help, not take him on a date.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great. Let me just…” he pulls out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over to the girl in front of him. She puts in her name and number, which, is always good. Steve is so bad with names he wouldn’t want to spell it wrong and give Robin another reason to make fun of him. She hands it back and Steve is getting ready to say his goodbyes and go hunt down Robin, who fled as soon as the class went out, but Chrissy starts talking before he can.

“You came with Robin, right? Robin Buckley?” She blurts out, clearly nervous. “We’re in class together but I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you!” It’s not that Steve thinks she’s lying, but there’s an undercut of something that makes him think Robin might not be alone in her pining.

“Yeah, we came in together.” He lets it hang, watching as her shoulders slump a little. “But we’re not dating or anything. I’m, uh, not really her type.” Her eyes go a little wide at his emphasis on type, perking up at the knowledge that Robin isn’t dating.

Oh yeah, he thinks, she’s got it just as bad.

[educatedsimps]

— "ctrl+C, ctrl+V" sakusa kiyoomi

≪ back to fics masterlist

sakusa kiyoomi x f!reader

a/n: saw a fanart of chibi sakusa and this came to mind so i just had to write this out to get it out of my head 🫠 sorry if my writing's not perfect i wrote this in like an hour HAHAHDHDJSJSHD

cw: FLUFF, parenting au, atsumu being annoying

wc: 586

Kiyoomi had always expressed how much he wanted your kids to have your features - from your hair, your eyes, your smile, your laugh, he wanted them to inherit everything about you. He essentially wanted his kids to be mini clones of you, the person he loved and admired the most in the world.

However, when your first child was born, it was pretty clear that she'd take after her father. Immediately, you noticed birth marks at almost the exact same spot as her father, and as she grew older, her hair started to curl at the ends just like her father's. Unsurprisingly, they had similar personalities too. She was probably the most educated six year old when it came to personal and public hygiene.

And when Reina's little brother was born, you swore they could be twins. That is, if you ignored the eight year age gap between them. Akimitsu, like his sister, took after Kiyoomi. He had the same dark curly hair and sharp eyes as his father, but one difference between him and his sister was that he had a much more outgoing personality. Even at six months old, he was already smiling, laughing, pointing and waving at everyone he passes by.

Today was no different. Strapped to his father's chest, Akimitsu was excitedly pointing towards his older sister practising volleyball in front of him and babbling incoherently. Next to him, the one and only Miya Atsumu was seated on the bench watching his twin boys practice their volleyball skills with Reina. You watched as your husband fished out a pack of tissues and wiped away the drool on his baby's chin.

"Dude, what's up with your sets today? Even Reina can't spike your shit sets and she's a better spiker than me!" Ryūjin exclaimed, pointing accusingly at his brother.

"Shut yer trap, Ryū! Yer just jealous 'cause my sets are still better than yours!" Ryōta retorted. Turning to his friend, he apologised, "Sorry, Reina, I'll work on my sets."

Reina scrunched her face in slight annoyance but acknowledged her friend.

"Y'know, Omi-kun, yer daughter somehow looks even more like you when she does that," Atsumu chortled.

Confused, Kiyoomi looked up at the blonde setter. "Does what?"

"THAT!" Atsumu screeched, pointing at Kiyoomi's face, which was, of course, scrunched up like his daughter's. Kiyoomi hurriedly covered his son's ears at the sheer volume of Atsumu's outburst.

"Will ya keep it down? My kid's gonna go deaf at this rate," Kiyoomi huffed, glaring at Atsumu. The latter sheepishly apologised.

"But for real though, your kids are basically your clones," Atsumu continued, "Guess ya don't have to worry about 'em not bein' yours, right?"

That earned him a hard slap on the back of his head by both you and Kiyoomi.

"THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" Atsumu cried, rubbing the back of his head to relieve the pain.

"Excuse me, sir, what are you insinuating?" You spouted, glaring at him. For all the years you had known him — since high school, to be exact —Atsumu had never failed to come up with the most insensitive lines.

"I'm just sayin'! It's cute that yer kids look so much like you!" Atsumu sulked.

"No shit they're mine, baka," Kiyoomi grumbled, the annoyed scrunch once again making an appearance on his face.

Hearing a fit of giggles, you all turned to Akimitsu who was pointing at Atsumu with a gummy smile on his face.

"Ba...Baka!"

The six month old happily clapped and cheered as Atsumu was left dumbfounded.

a/n: sakusa’s children would 100% inherit his curly hair YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE like it’s literally so cute. they’d have the same scrunched face when they’re annoyed AND IT'S FREAKING ADORABLE anyway i titled this one ctrl C ctrl V for obvious reasons HAHA

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarise any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[natalievoncatte]

Kara heard a distinctive hollow pop as she approached Lena’s apartment. The doorman had been gracious enough to let her up, informing her that Miss Luthor was expecting her. She knocked on the door and listened intently. The soft clink of a bottle being set on a table and rather gentle passing of Lena’s feet on the hardwood floor. Kara resisted the urge to peer through the door.

When it swung in, she wished she’d had the chance to prepare herself. Lena was visibly distraught, eyes red rimmed from crying and cheeks puffy. She was dressed down in a a sweater and leggings, and couldn’t meet Kara’s gaze with her own.

It hurt. Seeing her like this physically hurt, gouging a dull ache into her chest. Her first instinct was to reach out and scoop the smaller woman into a tight hug, make her safe, to wall her in with her arms. Kara fought it down and sighed.

“You… don’t look so good.”

“Come in,” Lena said, her voice soft and flat. “If you want to hang out with a monster, that is.”

Lena turned and trudged back into the apartment as if she was walking to the gallows. She fell back into the couch and grabbed the wine bottle from the table, long since having abandoned the pretext of glasses.

“You’re not a monster, Lena.”

She stared at the bottle and took a long pull from it, the wine sloshing around the bottom.

“Yeah I am. You ever watch Godzilla movies?”

Kara blinked. “What?”

“Godzilla. Giant radioactive lizard.”

“Of course.”

Lena snorted a bitter laugh. “Monsters are born too large, too strong, too tall. That is their tragedy. Or something like that. Director of the movie said it. That’s me. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, it’s just in my blood. It’s who I am and I’ll never escape it.”

“That’s not true,” Lena said, softly.

She looked around the apartment, shocked to find dishes piled in the sink and two more empty wine bottles lined up on the kitchen island.

Kara quickly moved to the couch. Lena offered no resistance as Kara took the bottle. Lena stared as Kara took a long, glugging pull.

“There. Now you’re not drinking alone.”

Lena smiled weakly. Kara didn’t mind the taste of the wine but as far as getting her drunk, it was like pouring it down the drain. If she could keep Lena from alcohol poisoning, it was worth it. Kara felt a tug in her chest. Lena looked so soft, her big eyes wet with tears.

“I only wanted to help.”

“You did, Lena. You saved the world.”

“Children, Kara. Sick kids, dying because of me.”

“That’s not true, Lena. Edge is cooking the data, you know that. We’re going to clear your name and I’m going to help.”

“I’m so tired, Kara. My own brother tries to murder me once a week because I won’t help him try to take over the world. I keep getting kidnapped by my insane family and aliens and God knows who else and I’m tired. That woman today almost killed me. One of these times there won’t be someone to jump in front of the bullet and it’ll be my time.”

“That won’t happen.”

Lena shook her head, failing to fight back the tears. “I’m so tired of being everyone’s monster.”

“You’re not a monster to me, Lena. You are so good. You work so hard and care so much, and people don’t even know about your work at the children’s hospital, the reading to the kids. You’re a saint.”

Lena looked at her sharply. “How did you know about that?”

Kara thought, FUCK.

She fiddled with her glasses, knowing it was a tell.

“I um, well I am a reporter. I won’t tell anyone, I know you don’t want publicity.”

“Kara, I’m confused. I put a lot of effort into making sure no one knows I do that, so the kids don’t have to deal with the bullshit my life brings. Have you been following me?”

Kara licked her lips.

Just holding back the truth isn’t make it a lie, did it?

“More like keeping tabs, just to… keep you safe. To watch your back.”

Lena looked horrified. Kara’s chest seized and she thought for a moment that she’d gone too far.

“Kara, I don’t want you doing that. If Edge or my brother come after me and you’re in the way, they’ll kill you. You can’t risk that, you don’t deserve it.”

Lena grabbed her hands. “Listen to me, Kara. I have a target on my back. I have a price on my head. Sooner or later my number is going to be up and I’d rather die than have you be the one to catch the bullet. I just want you to be okay.”

“They won’t get you.”

Lena pressed her eyes shut and choked back a sob. “Yeah, they will. I’m living on borrowed time. It’s just a matter of the odds, in the end. Next time James won’t be there to take a bullet for me and Supergirl will be too busy and I’ll just be another monster on obituary page until-“

“Stop it!” Kara barked, shocked at the sharp snap of her own voice. “Stop it. I won’t let them.”

Lena’s eyes snapped open and she stared at Kara, more than a little shocked. Her hands tensed, closing tightly around Kara’s.

“Don’t put that on yourself. I’m not you’re responsibly and I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s just not worth it.”

“You are worth it,” Kara insisted, shaking her hands a little as she leaned in. “You are, and I won’t accept that you’re not.”

“I love that you believe in me so much.”

Kara’s heart did a backflip. Love? She loved it? Lena was looking at her with such a softness in her eyes, and Kara scolded herself that she was drunk, that she might say things she didn’t intend or didn’t want to slip out.

“But,” Lena said, “you’re just one person, you can’t save me from this.”

Kara’s jaw set as she bit down on this pressure growing inside her, as if something had taken root in her chest and grown and grown inside until it made her ribs creak and her heart ache and it would split her open if she didn’t let it out.

She wasn’t drunk. She was lucid, clearheaded, but Lena was gazing into her soul with tear-filled eyes and she looked so small and vulnerable and resigned, like she was just waiting for her turn at the headsman’s axe.

Kara couldn’t take it. She couldn’t fucking take it, and the words came so easily she scarcely knew how she’d held it in for so long.

“I can protect you, Lena. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

Lena’s soft expression twisted into a scowl.

“Bad time for a joke, Kara.”

Tenderly, as gently as she could, Kara guided Lena’s hand to her glasses.

“Go ahead.”

Lena hesitated, chewing her lip, eyes flicking strangely, gaze surveying Kara’s face- looking at her eyes, her scar, and in a way that pulled at Kara’s heart, her lips.

Slowly, carefully, Lena pulled the glasses free, visibly surprised by their weight.

“They’re lined with lead. It helps with sensory overload.”

Lena raised her now shaking hand and her thumb grazed Kara’s ear as she reached back to unclasp the clip holding Kara’s hair, allowing honeyed tresses to spill free across her shoulders and down her back.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked. Her expression flickered from pained annoyance to shock to something Kara couldn’t quite identify.

“You lied to me,” Lena whispered.

Kara bit back some lame excuse, like I never said I wasn’t Supergirl.

“I did, and I’m sorry. If this means your feelings about me have changed, that’s okay, but I won’t stop protecting you. I won’t let Morgan Edge or your brother or anyone hurt you. Never you.”

Kara’s jaw trembled as she spoke and her heart was racing.

Lena’s was doing the same, beating too fast in her chest. Kara carefully put her hands on Lena’s shoulders.

“Easy,” she said. “I know this is a shock.”

“When you caught me after… when you saved me from Lillian… when you… the helicopter… that was you?”

“Always, Lena. I’ll never let you fall.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

She was staring, but rather than meet Kara’s gaze, she was looking lower, eyes fixed on Kara’s lips. Kara’s gut did a backflip at the way Lena was looking at her, mouth slightly parted, flushed, her heart racing.

If Kara was human, she might pick up on those things, or she might not. She might be confused or briefly wonder if Lena was really looking at her the way it seemed she was.

Kara Danvers was not human. She could look up and see particles dancing across the atmosphere in hues for which humans had no names because their eyes were blinded to them. She could hear the rapid beating of Lena’s heart and see the heat blooming on her skin and taste on her tongue the tangy, pleasant musk of the pheromones Lena was emitting, and she could do it all so fast that her mind processed it so quickly that it could barely be measured. When Lena began to lean towards her, she watched it happen in curious slow motion.

When Lena kissed her, it was an explosion of sensation. Not just the soft warmth of her lips but her scent, her real scent breath the perfumes and sharp tang of wine smell, the pure scent of Lena herself. The soft sigh that broke from Lena’s lips was a symphony, and Lena’s hands on Kara’s flanks was like a blast of firecrackers running under her skin to ignite a sudden flare of warmth low in her hips.

Lena was kissing her. Kara was kissing her back, consuming every aspect of the contact in perfect detail, burning it into her solar-powered Kryptonian mind where it would live in perfect detail for the rest of forever.

She gently, oh so gently, pushed Lena back.

“Lena, stop.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, her face falling. “I didn’t… I’m sorry… I thought… I misread…”

“No, no Lena it’s not that I promise, you’re drunk. You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t let you do anything while you’re like this, I couldn’t take it if you wake up tomorrow and…”

Lena blinked back tears.

“Oh my God. You really are a superhero, aren’t you?”

“I’m just being decent.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’ve got me, Lena. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Lena actually laughed, a bitter little chuckle that made her look away in embarrassment.

“I can imagine Lex seething if he found out about this.”

“Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena giggled. “Oh my God.”

“What, um, what is this, exactly?” said Kara, her voice cracking with tension. “I mean, you kissed me.”

“I did,” Lena said, guarded. “I’ve wanted to for so long. How does the saying go? In vino, veritas?”

“In wine there is truth,” said Kara.

“Yeah.”

“Lena, we’re going to get through this, I promise, and I will always protect you. Always. Right now I need to protect you from the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. I’m putting you to bed, and I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, but I need to know you’re safe, and you can’t get any safer than Supergirl crashing on your couch.”

Lena blurted, “I could have her in my bed.”

Kara thought her soul might leave her body.

“Not when you’ve had this much to drink.”

“God, you are amazing,” Lena sighed.

Kara nodded. “If you say so.”

It took a while for Kara to actually get Lena into her bed. Lena was suddenly taken with an extreme tiredness and Kara let her lean on her as they walked down the hall, fighting the urge singing in her veins, demanding that she pick her up and just carry her.

She may have been Supergirl, but even she had limits.

Once Lena was curled up in blankets and safe, Kara puttered around the apartment, doing the dishes, cleaning a little before she fell back on the expansive sofa to sleep.

When the warm morning sun woke her, she sat up and found Lena staring at her.

“I didn’t dream that. You’re really here.”

Kara rose from the couch and approached her tentatively.

“Yeah. I’m really here. Lena, if you’re angry with me because…”

Lena cut her off, darting forward to plant a soft kiss right on her lips. Kara froze as her brain essentially rebooted.

“Oh,” said Kara.

Lena smiled softly. She still looked bedraggled and had clearly been crying, but the smirk on her lips was everything.

[almond-tofuuu]

Wanna sit on Zayne’s lap (innocently) facing him with my face buried in his chest while he works 😊 and then maybe after a while grind on him a lil, just enough to rile him up, and then keep doing it until he snaps and pounds me into the nearest surface 😊

anon you are not the only one who wants to do this!!! If I've said it once, I'll say it again: ZAYNE WANTS US TO GRIND DOWN IN HIM!! why else would he keep letting us sit in his lap 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also sorry it took so long for me to write this, work has been brutal 😭😭😭 hope you enjoy!!

Dangerous Game

Zayne x reader

Warnings: nsfw minors dni, grinding, orgasm denial, Zayne's big dick (it needs it's own warning), pet names (Angel)

Zayne was busy, always busy. Even when he came home after a long shift at the hospital, he still had more work that needed to be completed. And you understood, you really did, his job was very important and his meticulous nature was just one of the many things you loved about him. But right now you were cursing the seemingly neverending amount of paperwork stacked on the desk next to him. Hearing that he had actually gotten off work on time for once, you were looking forward to spending an evening curled up on the sofa with your loving boyfriend. But your plans were cut short the moment he picked up a pen and started filling out documents. Watching him from the doorway you let out a small sigh, resigning yourself to spending another evening entertaining yourself, when an idea formed in your mind. Hiding the mischievous smirk growing on your face, you tiptoed your way over to Zayne, stopping beside his chair, gently poking his shoulder. Zayne's eyes flickered over to you, pen halting mid stroke as he gave you his full attention.

"Is there something I can help you with, Angel?" His smooth voice never failed to make your heart flutter, honeyed tone soft and tender, a sound reserved solely for you. Your fingers play with the cuff of his sleeve, a small pout on your lips, one you know he loves. "Can I sit with you? I missed you so much and I just want to be close to you for a while." The corners of Zayne's lips curl up into a soft smile, and you knew he'd give you whatever you wanted, after all Zayne could never say no to you. You were his weakness.

An amused chuckle left Zayne's lips as he swivelled his chair to face you, one hand holding yours whilst the other tapped his thigh, inviting you into his lap. "How can I refuse when you asked so nicely. Come on then, take a seat, Angel." He gently pulled you closer, helping you to straddle his lap, another deep chuckle rumbling from his chest as he watches you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "Now be good for me, I'm almost finished with these reports. Then we can go watch a movie together." He gives a light squeeze to the plush of your hips before his hands leave you, picking up his pen and resuming his work.

You want to be good for him, you really do try, but your mind begins to wander. There's something about being surrounded by him, his scent overwhelming your senses, the steady rhythm of his heart, his muscular thighs below you, it ignites a fire deep within you, and with every passing second you can feel the growing ache in your core.

You start small at first, squirming slightly in his lap, little wiggles that you play off as "just trying to get comfy". And for a while it's enough, but soon the throbbing in your cunt gets stronger, your clit begging for more friction, something to relieve the pressure building up in your lower stomach. You give an experimental rock of your hips, freezing to wait for Zayne's reaction. When he doesn't respond you do it again, setting a steady rhythm as you grind down on his lap. The zipper on the front of his slacks rubs perfectly against your sensitive clit, the pleasure increasing with every roll of your hips, head burying further into the crook of Zayne's neck, his masculine scent filling your nose, pushing you even closer to your orgasm that is building steadily. Your pussy is dripping now, soaking your panties, your empty hole flutters and pulses as you continue grinding in Zayne's lap, too lost in pleasure to register the tiny whimpers leaving your mouth, forgetting all about subtly as your minds only focus is on your orgasm that is fast approaching. Speeding up your movement, hips pressing down harder into his, a breathy moan of his name falls from your lips as you're about to reach your peak. Just as you feel yourself tumbling over the edge, two strong, cold hands firmly grab your hips, halting your movement completely. You whine desperately at the loss of your orgasm, hips frantically chasing more of that delicious friction that would have your cunt gushing into your panties, but it's useless. Zayne's vice-like grip prevents any of your movements, cold fingers bruising as they dig into the soft flesh of your hips.

"Did you really think I would let you finish like that, Angel?" Zayne whispered lowly in your ear, dark tone sending a shiver down your spine. "I thought I told you to be good, but it seems my girl was just too desperate to wait." You let out a pathetic mewl as Zayne presses you further into his lap, only now noticing the large bulge that has formed in his pants, his cock hard and begging for relief as it grinds against your clothed pussy. "You wanted my attention, Angel? Well you've got it. And I'm going to spend the rest of tonight teaching you what happens to bad girls who don't do as their told." He chuckles darkly, hips rutting up into yours, mercilessly guiding your sensitive cunt along the length of his confined cock. "And I'm not going to stop until you're a begging, whimpering mess."

[jiniretracha]

~ Y/n is a "nerdy but hot" type of girl whos also rlly smart. The bad boy hyunjin has secret eyes for her. Shes always alone in class and doesnt talk to many ppl so basically shes mysterious ooo. One day hyunjin finally asks her to tutor him and she gets surprised knowing he knows she exists. Hyunjin has hooked up w many other girls but y/n is different as shes not despo like them and thats what attracts him to her. They both meet late night at a cafe and y/n is wearing a black tank top which has her neck and chest exposed and her lacy bra straps can be shown as well. She covered herself w a fuzzy jacket before entering the cafe but eventually took it off whilst tutoring hyunjin. Hyunjin feels lusty looking at y/n being so effortlessly hot and unknowing of it, he also gets turned on by the way she sucks her frappe straw etc. But he controls himself and after their study session ends hyunjin offers to drop her home on his bike and somehow enters her apartment as well where she lives alone and cozy with a good view of the city. They both have a deep convo before it turns into hot late night sleepy smut fr (also unexperienced y/n doing things with the guidance of hyunjin) tysmm

A Shakespeare's Sonnet - Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: smut!!, fluff, minho's mean but he's just an overprotective little shit, minsung exes to lovers, slight angst, felix and jeongin being supportive besties

Summary: The one where Hyunjin needs tutoring literature sessions, you are a smart hot student and Minho almost faints.

Word count: 9,3k (i went too far i fear)

PS: This was sent in April, i apologize for being so late ☠️. i've been working on a felix smau so forgive me 😭

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

Hyunjin walked the halls of uni, his lazy walk attracting countless girls who would squeal under their breaths as they watched him pass across them, hoping silently one of them could end up being another notch on his bedpost. 

Hyunjin would be lying if he said he didn’t notice. Or that he didn’t love it. He was never one to take advantage of it, but having that feeling around him, of being wanted, was awesome. 

His friends also loved the attention people always had projected on him. It meant being invited to frat parties every single weekend, the coach calling them to the football team, and obviously, having girls flutter around them 24/7. 

What wasn’t something that was guaranteed by Hyunjin’s popularity, was having good grades. 

Hyunjin didn’t really study much, but he considered himself a smart person, so overall, he was a pretty good student. 

Until literature happened. 

He was so sure he was going to ace it, until a new professor, Mr. Jackson, came to uni and started giving out homework and assignments that were hard as fuck. 

The boy couldn’t believe his bad luck, as every single assignment he handed in, returned with a very angry red mark in the shape of an F. 

It was a Wednesday, when Hyunjin sat by the last seats of literature class, knowing how it was going to go down. 

“Do you think you passed?” Changbin asked Chan. 

Chan only snorted. “No way, man. I actually read the book he gave us last time, like 3 times, and the fucker still gave me an F” he rolled his eyes. 

Hyunjin sighed. “I think I failed as well”

“Yeah, dude, you’ve been failing all of yours. What’s up? You never go on a streak” Jisung says next to him.

He shrugs. “I guess it’s this fucking dude that apparently has a thing against me”

“Nah, I don’t think so” Changbin said. “I mean, he has a thing against you, but I think it’s against all of us”

“Thank you” Hyunjin said with sarcasm.

“Yo, this friday we’re going to Seungmin’s, okay? He already gave me a preview of the place and it’s going to be big” Jisung said excitedly. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna go” Hyunjin said.

His three friends went silent.

“Excuse me?” Changbin asked. 

“Yeah, I’m failing literature way too hard and without a reason. And, I don’t know about you, guys, but I really want to get my degree. And literature won’t stop me from getting that” He told his friends. 

“But mate, it’s literally one party” Changbin said.

“No, it’s one party every week” he told him. “Maybe that’s why I’m failing. Because I’m not trying hard enough”

“Well, it won't be the same without you there, mate, but it’s your call” Chan smiled slightly.

“Thank you!” Hyunjin said with a high pitched voice. 

Mr. Jackson’s unwanted presence walked into the room and Hyunjin sighed in disdain. He wanted earth to swallow him up already. 

“Okay, class, I’m handing you today your assignments from last class. I am… disappointed to say the least” the professor said and Hyunjin inwardly rolled his eyes. “Only two people passed, and that’s Mr. Lee, and Miss Y/L/N. Congratulations” the man smiled at two students who were in front of him. 

Hyunjin frowned. He had to get the number of either of those people to help him pass this fucking subject. 

“Oh, of course Minho passed. Ugh” Jisung faked a gag.

Hyunjin smiled. “What’s the matter?”

“See that guy over there?” he pointed at a guy with slight orange hair going on black, talking to a girl. “That’s my ex”

“Oh God, that’s your ex! Minho goes here? Since when? How did I not notice?”

“Yeah”

“Fuck…”

Jisung frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“I was going to ask him to tutor me, since I suck” 

“No! No, no, no. You won’t ask Minho to help you. No way. Ask Y/N, his friend” Jisung shook his head. 

Hyunjin frowned. “O…kay” he said slowly. “I will. Y/N… I think I know her. Her hair… sounds familiar”

“Yeah, we went to high school together” Jisung replied.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. “That’s Y/N?” he asked. 

“Yeah” He nodded. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t even know she went here” he said with a confused tone.

“Why do you sound disappointed?”

“I… okay, I used to have a crush on her when we were in like… third year? And, well, apparently she didn’t like me” Hyunjin shook his head.

“You’re lucky I liked you in secondary. You were an ass” 

“Yeah…”

Hyunjin straightened up his position when Mr. Jackson walked towards him and put the paper on his desk. 

“Disappointed in you, Mr. Hwang” Mr. Jackson told him.

When he walked away, Hyunjin turned around. “He always says that” Hyunjin spat. 

Jisung smiled. “I actually got a D this time”

“Yeah, I got an F like always”

Jisung pressed his lips together. “I really think you should consider talking to Y/N to help you” he told him. “She’s a good girl. And she’s super smart”

Hyunjin chewed on his lip. “Okay…”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You put your paper away inside your bag and smiled at your friends. 

“Okay, I am, like, so jealous you guys passed” Jeongin sighed. “I’ve only passed two of his assignments. And this is like the eighth!”

You smiled with a giggle. “It’s only reading and rereading the texts. This one was really tough. I’m lucky I got a C” you said. 

“Yeah, I got a C-” Minho said. 

“Yeah, sorry, why was Jisung staring at us?” Felix asked, nudging his forehead towards him. 

You all turned around and saw Jisung talking to his friend. 

Minho sighed. “I don’t even wanna know, honestly” he shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s still friends with that asshole, my God”

“Who? Hyunjin?” Felix asked.

“Yeah”

“He’s… not that bad” Felix scratched the back of his head sheepishly. 

“Yeah, no. He’s horrible” you sighed. “He was always staring at me with a scowl on his face and being witness of his bully friends back in high school”

“Thank God those fuckers didn’t apply to this one” Jeongin sighed. 

“Yeah. Unfortunately we got the worst. The witnesses” Minho said. “And of course, because the universe couldn’t have conspired enough against me, my ex”

“I still don’t know why you guys broke up” Felix said.

“Yeah, me neither” Jeongin shook his head. 

“I just got tired of the people surrounding him. And the way they influenced him. He was one thing with me and a totally different one when he was with his friends. It was like he was embarrassed of me or something. Like they didn’t know he was gay” Minho explained.

“But they knew” You deadpanned.

“Yeah” Minho nodded. “And cherry on top, he cheated on me”

“He did?” Felix asked.

“Yeah” 

“That’s horrible… well, good riddance, right?” You smiled at him.

Minho forced a smile, “Yeah… good riddance” he chuckled, unsure. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You grabbed your stuff and quickly pushed it inside your bag as soon as the bell rang. 

“See you next week, class. Don’t forget to bring your assignments” Mr. Jackson said and left. 

“Hey, do you want to go to the coffee shop next to our dorms?” Jeongin asked next to you.

“Y-“

“Hey, Y/N” a masculine voice said behind you. 

You frowned as you turned around, only to find none other than Hwang Hyunjin in front of you.

You arched your eyebrows. “Uh, hello?” you said unsure. 

“Can I- Can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked, fidgeting with his hands.

The man was nervous. 

Strange. 

You turned around and looked at your friends. 

“Call us if you need us, Y/N” Felix politely smiled at Hyunjin and winked at you.

“Yeah, you guys go. I’ll catch up” you nodded. 

“Okay…” Minho said unsure, grabbing Jeongin’s arm and pulling him with the rest. 

You turned around and looked at Hyunjin. “…What’s up?” you asked.

“I- I was just wondering… you know, since you’re basically rocking this subject and well- you and Minho are the only ones who passed the last assignment… I was- just… wondering if you could- I don’t know, tutor me or- or something?” he asked. 

You snorted, unable to help yourself. “I didn’t know you knew my name”

“Yeah, I do. We- we went to high school together” he frowned. “Why?”

“Well, you basically ignored me in high school” you shrugged. “Figured we aren’t as cool as your wolf pack over there” you nudged your head towards his friends. 

Jisung smiled and waved, while Chan and Changbin made a peace sign with a nervous smile. 

Hyunjin sighed. “Yeah- well, I was an asshole in high school”

“I know”

Hyunjin inwardly winced. “So… about tutoring…”

You snorted and grabbed your stuff. “Goodbye, Hyunjin” you said and left the classroom.

Hyunjin stood there, watching you walk away while his friends snorted and laughed. 

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen a girl reject you” Chan laughed while Changbin cackled with his infamous laugh. 

“Ha-ha” Hyunjin said humourlessly. “That wasn’t funny”

“Oh, it was” Jisung laughed. “She literally laughed in your face”

“I’m gonna fail literature and never get my degree. I wanna die” he whined dramatically as he plopped down on the chair. 

Changbin rolled his eyes. “Be persistent mate. Come on. You have that charm and effect on people. Use it”

Hyunjin opened his eyes and looked at Changbin. “You say I should- like- follow her around and-“

“Yeah” Changbin nodded. 

“I never beg” Hyunjin shook his head. 

“Well, mate, you gotta push your ego aside if you wanna pass literature” Chan shrugged. 

Hyunjin nodded. “Yeah, I know. The girl hates me though”

“I wouldn’t blame her” Jisung shook his head. 

“Why’s that?” Changbin said. 

“Well, me and Hyunjin were with the popular group. Who were straight up bullies” Jisung explained. 

“You guys bullied Y/N?” Chan asked, his eyes widened. 

“No!” Hyunjin said loudly. “No, we didn’t. I don’t want to talk about high school. It’s been ages. Let’s just… move on”

“Okay…” Chan said unsure. 

“Well, what are you gonna do, Hyunjin?” Changbin asked. 

Hyunjin sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I think I’m gonna continue asking her”

“Yeah, figured” Jisung nodded.

Hyunjin looked at him with a frown. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you couldn’t stop staring at her ass, for all that matters”

“Hey! I’m not attracted to her, and I’m definitely not sleeping with her” Hyunjin whined. 

“Sure” Jisung nodded with a smirk. “So, about Seungmin’s…”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You opened the door of the café and walked inside with a scowl. 

Minho looked up from their usual table and his eyes softened. “What’s up, Y/N?” he asked you. 

You sat down with a huff and left your bag hanging on the back of the chair. “Nothing. This fucker just asked me to tutor him”

“The audacity” Minho rolled his eyes. 

“Why’s that bad?” Felix asked, sipping on his iced tea. 

“Because he’s literally the guy who made my high school life miserable!” you whined. “My life and Minho’s life”

“Oh, well, maybe he’s- you know- changed” Felix tried. 

“Could be. The guy was staring at you like he was terrified” Jeongin said. “It was laughable”

“Maybe because he knows what he did” Minho added. “Typical bully attitude to get what he wants”

“I don’t know. He looked weird, though” You confessed. “Like he was nervous. He was all fidgety and awkward about it”

Felix hummed and looked down at his beverage. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It will be fine”

“Yeah, thank you, guys” You smiled at your friends.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You got us” Jeonging winked, poking your cheek with his finger, making you laugh. 

“I know. That’s why I love you guys” you smiled. 

An hour passed and you and your friends were having fun, as Jeongin was telling you about his date last night. 

“And then she laughs in my face, like- fully in front of me and I feel the stink in her breath. She had ordered ravioli with a cream cheese sauce that was showered with garlic” Jeongin said while you all cackled. 

“Oh my God, and what did you do?” You asked. 

“Nothing, I just contained my breath in and nodded at everything she said” Jeongin said. “Near death experience”

“And do you plan on texting her or something?” Minho asked.

“No, I mean, she was really cute but other than her attempted murder, we did not connect in the talking at all” Jeongin shook his head with a frown. “No way” 

“Okay, let’s all look down or look like we’re in a deep conversation” Minho said, suddenly.

“What?” Felix asked, confused.

“Hyunjin just walked in” Minho replied. 

Your eyes widened and Minho grabbed your arm when you were about to turn your head. “No, no, don’t turn around” he said, in front of you. “Okay, so my mother just died and we’re like- mourning or something”

“Good grief” Felix shook his head, biting on a muffin. 

Hyunjin, as soon as he stepped in, started whipping his head around, trying to look for you. He saw the back of your head while you were engrossed in a conversation with your friends. He took a deep breath in and tried to collect all the courage he could muster and walked towards you.

“Oh, no, he’s coming” Felix whispered.

“Act normal” Jeongin said.

“Hey, Y/N” Hyunjin said standing in front of you.

You looked up and blinked. “Hyunjin, what are you doing here?” 

“Man, my mother just died. Could you have some-”

“Minho!” Felix said, slapping his arm. 

Hyunjin looked at them curiously and you huffed. “Don’t mind them. What’s up?”

“I know you said no already, and you probably don’t like me at all but I seriously need your help” Hyunjin pleaded. “You see, I need to pass literature to get my degree. Please, I’ll literally pay you, whatever you want”

You chuckled and you moved your head to the side. “Hyunjin, are you serious right now? You’ve ignored my existence since we’ve met and now, when you need something, you acknowledge me?” you snort at the end. “Sorry, not happening”

Hyunjin let out a whine and out of literally nowhere, the man dropped to his knees.

“Oh my God” Felix mumbled and looked away.

“Y/N… I’m begging you. Please, please, please. I’ll literally clean your dorm, pay for your food, I’ll buy you whatever you want, just please, please tutor me” he asked, giving you puppy eyes.

You looked into his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Okay…”

“What?” Minho asked, in a high-pitched voice.

“Yeah, what?” Hyunjin asked, surprised as well.

“I’ll tutor you, just please get up. You’re embarrassing me in front of everyone” You said with a grimace.

Hyunjin quickly scrambled to his feet and nodded. “Okay, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Here’s my number” he said, grabbing a pen and scribbling the number into a piece of paper and handing it to you. “Text me. We can meet tomorrow”

“Yeah, okay” you nodded slowly. 

“Thank you, again, Y/N. I really appreciate it a lot. Sorry for bothering” Hyunjin said and quickly walked away.

You looked at him with a frown as he walked out of the café and then turned to look at Minho who was glaring at you. 

“What?” you asked him.

“I’m just gonna ask one simple question. Are you playing stupid? Or were you just born with it?” 

“Oh my God-”

“You just accepted tutoring the devil incarnate, Y/N!” Minho said dramatically.

“Did you see how he was begging on his knees? I don’t want to be as cruel as he was” you argued.

“The guy is the worst, Y/N. Come on” Minho insisted.

“I don’t know, Min. He really needed help” Felix tried. “I think it was sweet of you to give in” 

“Thank you, Lix” you said sincerely. 

“What if he just wants to sleep with you?” Minho asked.

“God, Minho! Hyunjin does not want to sleep with me” you laughed. 

“Yo, why not?” Jeongin asked. “You would make a hot couple”

Minho faked a gag. “Please no”

“You’re into guys, wouldn’t you say he’s hot?” Jeongin asked.

“Yeah, he sure is. But he’s a horrible person so no. I don’t like him” Minho spat, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Okay. Why don’t we all calm down, hm?” Felix asked. “Y/N’s gonna be tutoring Hyunjin and we’re all going to be supportive friends and be there for her if she needs anything”

“Thank you” you mouthed and he winked. 

Minho sighed and looked away. 

“Just trust me. You know I wouldn’t do anything” you told him.

“Y/N, it’s not you I’m worried about. I know you’re not going to do anything. But him? Yeah, I don’t trust him” he said. Felix gave him a look and he let out a breath. “But… I’ll give it the benefit of a doubt”

“Great” Felix clapped. “Everything’s solved. Can we please go back to talking about Jeongin’s horrible date with the garlic breath girl and all?”

“Yeah” you nodded. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You dropped your bag on the chair next to the door of your room and sighed. 

“Wanna order take out?” Minho asked from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, chinese, please” you called out.

“On it!”

You dropped your body on the bed and felt the purring of one of Minho’s cats next to your head. 

“Hey, Dori” you cooed, brushing your fingers across the cat’s soft fur. “You missed me?” you asked and the kitty purred. “Yeah, you did” 

You grabbed your phone from your jean back pocket and the piece of paper with Hyunjin’s number fell out. 

Sighing, you picked it up and after a while of thinking, you added him into your contacts. 

Y/N: hey, it’s y/n

You texted him and left the phone on the bed, to stare at Dori.

The phone vibrated and you grabbed it.

Hyunjin: oh hiii

You frowned. “A hi with three ‘I’s?” you asked yourself in a whisper. 

Hyunjin: what’s up?

“What’s up? God, we’re just gonna be having tutoring sessions. You don’t wanna know how I’ve been” you harshly whispered to yourself.

You: fine. Do you wanna meet tomorrow at the café me and my friends were having a hangout until you interrupted-

You sighed and pressed the delete button. 

You couldn’t send him that.

You: i’m ok. you wanna meet at the same coffee shop tomorrow after english?

Hyunjin: yeah, i’m okay with it.

You: great. 

You left the phone on the bed and went to help Minho while he put on the plates and silverware on the table.

“Everything okay?” Minho asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I was just texting Hyunjin” you told him. “I told him he could meet at the coffee shop from today”

“The one where he rudely interrupted us?”

“Yeah, the same one” you laughed.

He smiled and then looked down. “I’m sorry if I was harsh with you today” he said quietly.

“Oh, don’t worry, Min. I know you’re just looking out for me” 

“I know. I just… we suffered a lot in high school and- well, I don’t wanna go through that again. Neither of us” he shook his head.

“Aww, are you sweet talking to me?” you cooed.

Minho dropped his soft expression and rolled his eyes. “Man, you ruined the moment. I hate you”

“No, you love me” you said and wrapped your arms around him.

“Get off” Minho said.

“You love me” you said louder.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever” he said. 

The bell rang and he looked at the door. “That’s the take out. Be right back” 

“Go ahead. I love you too”

“Shut up”

You giggled as you made your way back to your room and grabbed your phone. Your heartbeat started beating faster when you saw the notification from Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: see you tomorrow, y/n :)

“Fuck, you stupid heart. Stop doing that!” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You sighed as you tapped your nails on the wooden table from the café as you waited for Hyunjin. 

He was 10 minutes late and you were so close to grabbing your stuff and fleeting out of there. 

Suddenly, your eyes caught his figure being followed by a girl who was looking at him with a smile while he had a frown on his face. He said something, making the girl’s smile drop and walk away embarrassed. 

You looked down and felt a weird feeling in your stomach.

Hyunjin, with a sigh, sat down on the booth bench. “Hey, I’m so, so sorry Y/N” he said, sounding tired.

You didn’t even have the heart to say something rude to him because he was late. “No worries” you breathed out. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, uh… no, it’s just this-”

“Girl?”

Hyunijn looked at you, wide-eyed and then let out a laugh. “Yeah, kind of”

“You slept with her and she wants more but you don’t want more?” you asked, feeling that curious, annoying thing on your stomach.

Hyunjin shook his head. “No, she’s uh… my ex-girlfriend” he said.

“Oh…”

“Yeah” he nodded. “We broke up a long while ago but- well, I broke up with her but she didn’t take it well”

“How long ago was that?”

“Four months ago”

“Four?” you asked and he nodded. “Fuck, that’s a long time”

“I know” he sighed. 

You chewed on your lip. “Okay, we can start now. I’m sorry I asked, I just- well, you looked kind of bothered” you said.

“No, it’s okay. Y/N, thank you” he said with a little smile.

Those damn butterflies kicked inside your stomach and you inwardly rolled your eyes. You hummed and looked down at your computer. 

“Right! So, the next assignment is to choose a sonnet from Shakespeare and analyze it. That means we’ll have to search, read some and well, choose the one we like the best” you told him.

“Oh God, I hate this already” he said, pressing his forehead against the table.

You giggled. “It’s not that bad. I collected a bunch for you to pick” 

He pulled his head up quickly and smiled. “Really?” 

“Yeah” you nodded.

“You’re the best” he smiled wider. 

Fuck, that’s a pretty smile- FOCUS. “It’s nothing” you scoffed with a little smile too.

“No, really. It’s a lot. Let me see” he said and you pushed your computer towards him.

As he started scrolling through the different sonnets, his eyes couldn’t help but wander towards your face. You were looking out the window while sipping your pink drink with a sense of tranquility, something that was definitely lacking in his life. Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel his heart hammering in his chest as he admired your pretty face. He paid attention to the way you sucked on the straw of your drink and he bit his lip. 

You were so attractive to him and you had no idea. 

How didn’t you see it? How didn’t you notice him staring at you in high-

“You picked one yet?” you asked him, turning your head to face him.

He blinked a couple of times and nodded. “Y-yeah” he lied. “I picked one” 

“Let me see” you said, grabbing the computer. Your eyes lit up and smiled at him, making him feel a flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt till now. “Wow, Sonnet 116. Good choice. You are one romantic guy, never thought of that” 

His eyes narrowed, confusedly and then nodded. “Yeah… I guess you didn’t know that about me, huh?” he joked.

Hyunjin was in fact a very romantic guy himself, he loved cliché stuff and, whenever he painted, he tried to symbolize love as much as he could. He would paint red roses very often, thinking they symbolize an act of love, sensualism and mysticism. Hyunjin loved romantic comedies and he always cried with them.

But that was a secret he kept well hidden.

“Well, this one you picked is very beautiful” you said with a smile and he couldn’t help but reciprocate it. “Let Me Not to The Marriage of True Minds is one of his most famous works” 

Hyunjin immediately took out his computer and started typing whatever you said. 

“We can read it together” you said, pushing the computer so he could see it.  

He nodded and you started reading some lines and explaining them to him.

Hyunjin stared at you attentively and tried to focus, he really did. But his stupid brain and heart had teamed up to sabotage this study session, because they were focused on you. You, you, you. Then, his eyes couldn’t help but go down as he took in what you were wearing. 

Fuck, how did he not notice? You were wearing a black top that had a low cut and it gave a good view of your breasts, as your arms pushed them together due to your inclined position on the table. His mind started racing with different dirty thoughts of what he’d do to you if they weren’t in a crowded café. Hyunjin noticed you were wearing a lace black bra and it made him wanna grab-

“He’s basically saying that true love is not changeable, no matter the length of time” you explained, bringing him back to earth.

Hyunjin quickly typed, trying to convince you he was paying attention. 

“He is so certain about his definition of love that, if proven wrong, then he was sure he had never loved anyone” you finished.

“Wow…” Hyunjin said. “That’s… beautiful”

“I know” you giggled. “Well, we have to, basically, do an analysis of it”

“Okay, how do we start?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

Hyunjin pressed the point button on his laptop and sighed. “Fucking finally” he said.

“It wasn’t that bad, you gotta admit that” you smiled.

He had to admit, he did enjoy literature after all. “Yeah, it was actually interesting. Maybe I should’ve asked you for help a long time ago” he confessed.

“Well, that means you would’ve acknowledged my existence, which you didn’t until… yesterday” you said with a shrug.

That’s a lie, Hyunjin thought. “I… I’m sorry” he said and he mentally slapped himself.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it. Really” you said.

He frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. He was about to open his mouth when you cursed.

“Fuck! Look at the hour, it’s almost eight” you cursed.

Hyunjin looked out the window and noticed how dark it had gotten. “Right, wow. I didn’t even notice” he mumbled as he looked at his phone. 

“Yeah, me neither” you chuckled, putting all your stuff away.

Hyunjin frowned as he didn’t like the fact that this session was over and you’d probably go back to ignoring each other like you did. 

“Hey, uh… do you wanna go back to my place? Like… to hang out” he said.

You arched your eyebrows. “Why?”

“Well, to be honest, I could pay you back with some take out. Whatever you want. My roommate, Chan, is out for the day with his girlfriend so I'm gonna be home alone” Hyunjin explained. 

You leaned your head to the side.  “Are you inviting me because you feel bad for me or because you don’t wanna be alone?” 

None, I just wanna be with you. “Both, I guess?”

You chuckled and looked away. “Hyunjin-”

“Please?” he asked.

You looked at him again and then sighed. “Fine. But we’re ordering chinese”

“Deal” he smiled, satisfied.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

“She did that?” You asked him as soon as you and him walked inside his dorm.

“Yep. And then she basically threatened Lily, my friend’s girlfriend, to stay away from me because she was jealous” Hyunijn explained.

“Oh my God” you mumbled. “That’s borderline obsessive”

“Yeah, I know” he said, dropping his stuff on the couch, “You can drop your stuff  and sit here, I’ll order take out” Hyunjin whipped his phone out and started clicking on the delivery app.

You did the same and noticed there were a few notifications from your group chat with your friends.

<Besties!!>

Min 🐈: hey, you alive bestie? 

Min 🐈: did you kill hyunjin? I’d be delighted if your answer was yes. I’d even help you bury the body

Innie 💛: min shut up

Min 🐈: what?

Lixie☀️: i think you’re overreacting a little

Min 🐈: i think i’m not

You chuckled and quickly typed your answer back.

You: I’m okay, you guys. calm down!! 

You: i’m at his place.

Innie 💛: excuse me?

Lixie☀️: say what?

Min 🐈: oh my god, I think i’m gonna faint

You: shut up. he invited me and ordered chinese as my payment, i happily accepted bc u know i’d never decline chinese 😀

You sighed. You knew Minho would never approve of this, he’d scold the hell out of you. 

Lixie☀️: okay, take care y/n. 

Innie 💛: pls text us if anything happens!

Min 🐈: yeah that

You: i will, thx! love u guys

“Okay, it’s on its way. Want a drink or something?” Hyunjin brought you back to reality and you quickly turned off your phone.

“Oh, uh… what do you have?” you asked him.

“I have wine… coke, water”

“I could have some wine” you smiled.

“Great” he said and took it out from the cupboards. 

You walked towards the kitchen and sat down on the stools, feeling your hands get sweaty from the nervousness you felt. 

“So… did your friends roast me via text?” Hyunjin asked. You pulled your face back and he chuckled. “I know you were texting them. You looked really stressed out explaining this situation to them”

You sighed and looked away. “Yeah, uh… I think it’s not news that they don’t like you” you chuckled humourlessly.

He nodded. “I don’t think you do either” he said. He hoped that was untrue.

“Well. I had my reasons” you said.

Hyunjin frowned. “Had?”

“Yeah, well, I think you weren’t just as bad as I thought” you confessed.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, you did ignore me in high school” you told him. “And you were friends with the people that made my life a living hell, while you stood there, watching”

He was about to say something but the bell rang. “That must be the delivery guy. Be right back”

He walked away from the kitchen and you put your head in your hands. What were you doing?

Hyunjin came back really fast and he placed the food on the plates, wordlessly, while you just stared.

Great, you ruined the whole mood. 

You started eating and the silence was so loud, you wanted to fleet out the door. 

“I didn’t ignore you” Hyunjin suddenly spoke. 

You looked up and gave him a confused look. “What?”

“I didn’t ignore you. In high school, I mean” he repeated himself. “I was just hanging out with the wrong crowd, and I admit that. I just wanted you to know that I did know you who you were. I didn’t know you attended this uni, though” 

You analyzed his words and expressions. He sounded sincere.

“I… it’s funny, actually. I had a huge crush on you” he said in a small voice.

Now, hold up.

“What?” you asked him with a frown.

“Yeah” he laughed. “You were really cute and just my type. But as I said, I hung out with the wrong crowd and it repelled people like you, fairly. And I wanted to be popular, because it was like a dream and it felt like being powerful but then I understood that it was stupid and there’s literally not a day in which I don’t regret hanging out with those people” 

You blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out if this was a figment of your imagination.

“So, I deeply apologize” Hyunjin said in a small voice. 

You nodded. “Okay… I uh… I did not know that” you chuckled nervously.

“No, you didn’t have to,” he said. “Really, I’m sorry, Y/N. If it… helps or whatever, I did want to defend you when they said those things to you and your friends. I was just too afraid to say anything, honestly”

“Afraid they’d do it to you” you said.

“Yeah, basically”

You hummed and licked your lips, deep in thought. “I had a crush on you too back in high school” you suddenly said.

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah” you chuckled. “Even if I hated you, I couldn’t… help it” 

“Wow…”

“I never told anyone about this” you chuckled. “Not even Minho”

“Oh God, he hates me so much” he said, making you laugh.

“Yeah, well, you’re friends with Jisung, so…” you said.

He frowned. “What’s up with him anyways?” 

You looked up in surprise. “Jisung cheated on Minho”

He looked really surprised to hear that. “What?” Hyunjin asked in a high pitched voice. “No, that’s not it. I mean, yeah, he accused him of cheating but Jisung didn’t do that”

“Yeah, well, that’s what Minho told me. Back at prom” you told him.

“Okay, that’s weird because Jisung did not attend prom” he said.

Your eyes widened. “What do you mean he didn’t go to prom? He said he found Jisung kissing other guy” you frowned.

“Yeah, no. Jisung’s grandfather had passed away the day before so he had to travel overnight to his hometown” Hyunjin said.

“Oh wow” you mumbled. “Well, then we’ll have to tell them and maybe…”

“Get them together again?” Hyunjin asked, with a little shrug.

“Yeah” you giggled. “You know, as much as Minho talks about hating him and all… I think he’s never really gotten over Jisung. He still keeps the necklace he gifted him and the collar he made for Soonie” 

“Jisung’s never gotten over him either. He likes to gag at the mention of him but he still has that shirt, you know, the one they shared of-”

“Oh my God, from that Cat Café? The one that says-”

“Cat Café Lovers? Yeah, that one” Hyunjin laughed.

You chuckled and looked away. “Gosh, that was peak cringe from them”

“Yeah”

The chatter continued. You talked about everything and anything. It was like you both needed this talk from a long time ago, and you didn’t know it. 

After eating everything and helping him with the dishes, you looked at the clock and gasped.

“Oh shit, it’s eleven. Fuck” you whispered. “I gotta go, I’m sorry”

“Oh…” Hyunjin said, sounding disappointed. “It’s okay, don’t worry”

He walked you to the door and opened it. He leant against the frame and watched you put your bag on your shoulder and look up at him.

“Thank you for the food… and the talk” you smiled.

“No, thank you. I’ll probably get an A from what we did” he chuckled. “You’re very smart and very kind to help me… even after everything I did”

“It’s alright” you nodded. “And you apologized, so, we’re good”

“Yeah…” he said. “I actually lied” he suddenly blurted.

You frowned. “What… did you lie about?” 

He swallowed nervously and looked down at his feet. “I did like you in high school but… I didn’t stop” 

You pulled your face back in utter shock.

Say what?

“I… seeing you the other day. It made me realize I didn’t stop liking you after all” he chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I thought you were really cute back then but, seeing you now, I see you got even more beautiful and it kills me that I did what I did. And I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable by saying this but- well, I just thought I could tell you because-” he started rambling and you felt a rush of confidence to shut him up.

Shut him up by kissing him. Hard.

Your kiss shocked him but he was quick to grab your waist and pull you against his chest. 

You pulled away and smiled at him. “I like you too, Hyunjin. Even if you suck at literature and stare at my tits the whole time I’m explaining a Shakespeare sonnet to you” you told him against his lips and he blushed. 

“Okay, that’s-”

You giggled and pressed your lips against his once again, making him groan. He pushed you inside his dorm again, closing the door with his foot. Your bag dropped to the floor and he put his hands under your legs, hoisting you up in the air, making you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Hyunjin led you to his room and then laid you down on his bed, all while literally devouring your mouth with his tongue deep, stroking yours. 

He pulled away to kiss your neck and you arched your back, mewling and clawing at his clothed back. 

“Hyunjinnie…” you sighed, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, Y/N” he whispered, biting on your skin. He pulled away and stared at you. “You are so beautiful”

You smiled shyly at him and when he went to kiss your neck again, you stopped him by pulling his hair. 

“What?” he asked, caressing your waist.

“I just uh…”

“You a virgin?” he asked.

“No! No, no. I uh had my fair share of hook ups… but I am not like the most experienced so please-” he silenced you with a kiss, moving his hands under your shirt.

“You-” kiss. “-are perfect-” kiss. “Don’t worry, baby” he whispered and went to kiss you again. 

Hyunjin pressed kisses on your neck down to your stomach, over your shirt until he reached the belt of your jeans. He made quick work of taking off your shoes and your belt. 

You helped him kick your jeans off and he stared at your panties. 

His eyebrow arched, as he looked at your laced black panties. “I wanted to feel sexy” you shrugged innocently. 

He tugged on your legs, making you yelp. “Come here” he growled, kissing your lips as his hands groped your breasts through your shirt. “I’m gonna eat you out until you’re shaking, is that okay?”

You shivered at his tone and his honesty. “I…”

“Has anyone ever done that before?” he asked. You shook your head ‘no’, giving him doe eyes. “What kind of dumb men did you date? Who wouldn’t want to do that?” 

He didn’t even give you time to answer, because he took off your panties quickly and shoved your legs open. 

“Fuck, look at that. You’re so wet, baby” he whispered, smirking at you.

“God, do something, Hyune” you moaned, arching your back.

He chuckled at your desperation and swiped his fingers over your drenched entrance, making you whimper. He dragged those soaked fingers over his tongue and sucked them clean. As soon as he finished, Hyunjin crawled over you and kissed you, inserting his tongue inside your mouth, making your nails dig into his shoulders as you tasted yourself. 

He pulled away and panted as he looked at you. “Do you feel how good you taste?” he asked and didn’t even give you time to answer as he dropped a quick peck on your lips and went down to eat you out. 

Hyunjin’s tongue dragged over your core over and over and all you could do was hold onto the sheets desperately. He inserted his fingers and scissored them as he licked over your sensitive clit in a circle motion. 

Your hands went to his hair and started pulling, making him mewl against your cunt. You pushed his head against your cunt, making his nose press against your clit as his tongue licked over you. 

He had you cum on your tongue two times and then, he pressed a kiss over your pubic bone when he was finished, definitely leaving your legs shaking in pleasure, just like he had promised. He wiped his face with his sleeve and then grabbed the back of his tee, pulling it over his head, letting you admire his toned body.

Your hands immediately brushed over his torso and his abs contracted, feeling the goosebumps run all over his body. He pressed his chest against yours and kissed you again, really soft and sweet. 

“How was that?” he whispered against your lips.

“Fucking mindblowing” you whispered, making him smirk.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, fidgeting with the end of your shirt.

You smirked. “I think you tortured yourself long enough at the café staring at me. Go ahead” you giggle.

He giggled back and pecked your lips and then pressed a kiss to your cleavage. “I couldn’t help it” he murmured and then grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. He stared at your black lacy bra, his hand going under you to grab at the clasp.

You didn’t let him, arching your back at taking it off yourself, exposing your tits to him. 

His hands immediately grabbed them and pushed his face towards them, enveloping one of your nipples inside his mouth and sucking. You arched your back and moaned, gripping his hair tightly with your fingers. He sucked one and then another, then, pushed them together and licked over them.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, I need you to fuck me” you whispered.

“Okay, okay, fuck” he said, giving one of your tits one last suck and then leaned up on his knees, trying to take off his belt as fast as he could. 

You helped him kick off his jeans and saw his erection straining against the fabric of his Calvin Klein’s. It was big already and when he hooked a finger on the hem and pulled them down, your eyes widened. 

His dick slapped against his stomach and his hand went down to stroke himself. 

He knelt on the bed and pushed himself to brace himself over you while looking for a condom. Hyunjin took it out and put it on quickly, and then went back to brush the tip over your entrance, making your nails dig against his forearms. 

One of his big hands gripped your thigh and the other one held his cock to push it inside you. Once he did, you arched your back and he let out a choked moan. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N. And so wet, shit” he whispered against your neck and then he kissed the hot, sweaty skin. 

“Fuck, Hyune” you moaned. 

“Yeah, keep chanting my name like that” he whispered, moving his hips as he hit your cervix over and over. 

You let out a little yelp every time he hit that sweet spot and one of his hands went to one of your breasts, brushing over your nipple and pinching it every now and then.

He licked over your ear and pulled on your earlobe. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he whispered. “So fucking long, baby” 

You put your leg over his shoulder, making him go deeper and pulling a moan from both of you.

His fingers found your clit, and as he rubbed it in a circle motion, it made you get closer and closer towards your orgasm.

You bit at his neck and moaned. “I think I’m gonna come, Hyune”

“Yeah?” he groaned. “Fucking come, then”

Your cunt gripped him tightly, making him groan and thrust even harder. You arched your back against Hyunjn’s chest and came around his length, feeling your vision go white and like you were about to pass out from the amount of pleasure the man on top of you was making you feel.

You barely noticed how he was losing control, as his thrust became sloppier. With a choked moan, he emptied himself inside the condom, his hands gripping the mattress tightly and then with a sigh, he collapsed on top of you, completely spent and satisfied.

Your arms wrapped around him tightly as he panted against your neck. 

“That was-”

“Amazing, fucking amazing” he whispered against your neck. 

You giggled and combed your fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp. 

Hyunjin lifted his head and smiled at you. “You are so pretty”

“Thank you. You are very pretty, too” you said shyly and he blushed. “You blushing?”

He let his head drop against your chest and mumbled, “Shut up”

“You definitely are” you giggled.

“Shut up!”

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After he let you use your shower (in which he may or may not have sneaked in and ate you out against the tiles), you changed into one of his shirts and wandered around his room. You saw the canvases that laid on the desk and smiled as you saw the amazing drawings and paintings he did.

“Wow… you did this?”  you asked him over your shoulder.

“Yeah” he said shyly, brushing the towel over his wet hair. “They’re not the greatest-”

“They’re not? I think they’re museum-worthy, are you kidding?” you chuckled. “The way you painted that rose, wow” 

He chuckled and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “I feel so at peace with you, Y/N” he whispered against your neck.

You smiled and put your hands over his arms. “Me too, Hyunjin” you whispered, kissing his skin. “Me too”

“You have practice tomorrow at the studio right?” he asked. 

“Yeah, we have that super difficult R&B choreo” you sighed. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Yeah”

Hyunjin started thinking about a little something in silence and then spoke up. “Do you want me to change classes?” 

You frowned and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“So that we can practice together. Maybe that’s the reason I never saw you here. Because we never got to practice together” 

You let out a little laugh. “You’re crazy, Hyune” 

“Yeah, crazy about you” he said and kissed your cheek with a loud kiss sound. 

You giggled and shook your head. “Oh, fine. Change classes”

“Yay” he whispered. “What do you usually wear for practice?” 

“Leggings…”

“Oh, it’s gonna be amazing, I’m so sure of it. I’m gonna have so much fun” he smirked.

“Hyunjin!”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You and Hyunjin woke up with a loud buzzing noise coming from the night stand. 

Hyunjin from behind you groaned and pressed his face harder against your neck. “What’s that, babe?”

“It’s just my phone, hun” you whispered as you grabbed it and looked at the ID of the call. “Hello, Min?”

“Where are you, bitch?”

“Huh?” you asked, surprised at his tone.

“You don’t come home, then you don’t show up at history, and you’re not here at the cafeteria” Minho said.

Your eyes widened and you sat up, looking at the hour. 10:04.

“Shit!” you yelled. “Hyunjin, we overslept!” you yelled, grabbing at his arm and shaking him.

“Hm?” he asked, confused.

“Hyunjin, wake up! We need to get to my dorm to change and then go to the studio! Come on!” you yelled, jumping off the bed and searching for your clothes frantically. “Where the hell did you throw my socks?” 

Hyunjin took his sweet time sitting up on the bed and stretching his muscles. He scratched his eyes and blinked a couple of times. His head turned to the clock on the nightstand and his eyes widened. 

“Holy shit, it’s 10 AM” he said, and jumped off the bed.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” you yelled back as you ran towards the bathroom to brush your teeth in your bra, jeans and only one sock on your feet.

Hyunjin quickly dressed while you brushed your teeth. He combed his hair with his hands quickly and saw you get out of the bathroom, looking around for your shirt.

“What are you searching for?” he asked you.

“My shirt! I don’t know where you threw it. And my socks” you said, looking everywhere.

“Here, use one of mine” Hyunjin tossed you a shirt. “You look better in them” 

You grabbed it and looked at it. “Thank you” you said in a small, shy voice and quickly pulled it over your frame. “My socks” 

“Oh, here” he said. “I found them” he smiled.

“Thanks”

Hyunjin grabbed his stuff and smiled at you again. “Let’s go?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You and Hyunjin ran through the hallways, panting.

“To the right!” you yelled and quickly turned with Hyunjin following suit. 

“There you are!” Minho suddenly appeared in front of you just as you turned the corner, with Felix and Jeongin behind him.

“FUCK! Minho!” you yelled. “You scared me!” 

He was staring at you and Hyunjin with a frown. “Okay… please tell me that you are wearing his shirt because he clumsily dropped wine on it and those marks on your neck are just mosquito bites” he said calmly.

Your eyes widened and quickly slapped your hand over your neck, as you looked at Hyunjin with a glare. He just shrugged.

“I think I’m gonna faint” Minho said, grabbing his heart, dramatically.

Felix rolled his eyes and sighed. “Let’s go, guys. We have practice in two minutes” he said with a smile.

You followed them and Hyunjin did too. “I’m gonna ask my professor to… do what I told you, okay?” he asked, grabbing your shoulder.

“Okay” you nodded. 

Hyunjin pressed a kiss to your lips and walked away the other way. You stared at him and then your eyes darted to your friends who were wide-eyed staring at you. 

“No comments, okay?” 

“Oh, no, you come here and tell everything!” Jeongin giggled excitedly.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

After practice, you sat with your friends at the café, telling them everything.

“It was like I had been wrong about him my whole life” you told them, after you finished. 

“Wow, Y/N, he sounds like he really likes you” Felix smiled.

“He does” you nodded. “Hell, he liked me in high school? I did not expect to hear that” 

“Yeah, no one did” Jeongin shook his head.

You looked at Minho and sighed. “Could you be supportive about this?” you pleaded your friend, pressing your hands together.

“What happened with the I’m not gonna sleep with him, he doesn’t wanna sleep with me thing? You bumped your head against a wall and forgot about it?” Minho asked.

“No, we just had a really good conversation in which he apologized and well… I kissed him” You confessed. 

“Hold up, you kissed him?” Felix asked.

“Yep… oh! I have news about Jisung” you gasped, looking at Minho.

He looked up and his eyes widened. “What? What do you know?” he asked.

You smirked. “It was a misunderstanding, Min” you told him. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Of course he’d defend his friend. I mean, what can you expect from him?” he laughed, humourlessly.

“He told me that he didn’t even attend prom” you told him and Minho pulled his face back.

“What?”

“Uh… a little context please?” Jeongin asked.

“So, basically, Minho saw what he thought was Jisung at prom kissing some other dude. They fought, they broke up, the end. But Hyunjin told me that Jisung did not go to prom, his grandfather had died the night prior and he had to rush to his hometown” you told him.

“Wow…” Felix said. “That’s- Minho, what do you think?”

“I think I need to go” he said and grabbed his stuff quickly. “Uh, sorry. Thank you for telling me, I’ll be right back” 

You three watched as Minho left the cafeteria in a rush and then looked at each other.

“You think they’ll get back together?” Jeongin asked.

“I think so” you smiled. “They aren’t over each other. At all” 

Felix smiled. “I can’t believe he has refused to date anyone this past year because he is still hung up on him” 

“Yep. Their relationship was really intense and they loved each other very much” you smiled. “Hell, he still keeps lots of things from him at the dorm. I just pretend I don’t see them but they’re there” 

“Like what?” Jeongin asked.

“You know that necklace Minho always wears?” you asked.

“Yeah, the one with the cat- No!” Felix suddenly gasped.

“Yeah, that one was a gift from Jisung” you giggled. “And then the collar that Soonie has, is a gift from Jisung as well”

“Oh my God” Jeongin said. “He talks a lot about hating him and now I realize he does not hate him at all”

“No” you chuckled. 

“Okay, I’m having a deja vu” Felix sighed.

You frowned and turned around, finding Hyunjin running towards you. You couldn’t help the smile that ran across your face. “Hey!” 

“Hi, good news!” he smiled and sat down on the empty seat where Minho was. “Where’s Minho?” he asked, realizing he wasn’t there anymore.

You and your friends smirked. “He went to search for the love of his life” Jeongin said, arching his eyebrows.

Hyunjin looked confused and you just chuckled. “I’ll tell you later”

“Okay” he nodded. “They let me change classes” he smiled.

“Really?” you gasped. “That’s great!” 

“You’re practicing with us?” Felix asked.

“Yeah!”

“That’s awesome, man” Jeongin smiled.

Hyunjin smiled. “I know, I’ll get to practice with my pretty girl” he said, smirking at you.

You groaned when you felt your friends starting to poke at your sides and make annoying noises at you. “Stop it!” You groaned.

“Y/N’s in love” they started singing. 

Hyunjin could only chuckle and shake his head. 

He felt his phone buzz and he took it out. He read the message on his phone and frowned.

You noticed his expression. “What’s up, hun?” you asked.

“Why is Jisung texting me: Minho just kissed me?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

Two weeks later…

You and Hyunjin sat next to each other and he fiddled with his hands nervously. You put your hand over his fingers and smiled, with a chuckle. 

“Hyunjin, oh my God, calm down! It’s just an assignment” you told him.

“Yeah, I know” he sighed. “It’s just that I need to pass literature or-”

“You won’t get your degree, you told me already, yeah” you giggled. 

Mr. Jackson came over with the assignments and stared at Hyunjin. He gave him a curious look adn then left the paper on his desk with a sigh. 

“Here’s your work, Mr. Hwang. And yours Miss Y/L/N” he said, dropping yours on your table. 

Hyunjin took a look at the paper and gasped. “I got an A!” 

“Me too” you smiled excitedly. “See? I told you you were going to pass”

“I know, but it’s all thanks to you” he said, grabbing your hand and kissing it a couple of times. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you now”

You looked at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You won’t have to wonder now” you said and giggled. 

Your eyes darted to the couple in front of you and sighed.

“Ever since they got back, they won’t stop making out, it’s disgusting” you said to him.

“Hell, we are clingy and we don’t go making out like that” Hyunjin said.

Minho pulled away and looked at him. “That’s a lie, Hwang. Yesterday, I got scarred for life finding you naked on top of my best friend”

“Yeah, I got traumatized too” Jisung said next to him.

“Hey, the happy couples at the back!” Mr. Jackson called out. 

“Sorry” you all four said in unison. 

You and Hyunjin turned your head to the side and found Chan and Changbin mocking you, pretend-kissing each other while making faces. Hyunjin threatened to throw his pencil case while you laughed at them. Hyunjin looked down at your smiley face and his heart doubled its size. Maybe literature hadn’t been so bad after all.

Thank you, literature. 

[femaholicc]

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ High Heels | a.arlert

Pairing: Armin Alert x fem! reader ( it is implied that reader is black)

Synopsis: Based off of my best friend armin drabble, read here for more context. Reader comes over to check and see if armin finished her homework as she so kindly(kind?) asked but ends up with more than just some papers.

Warnings: ୨ৎ 2.4k. fem black reader , lowercase intended on some parts, dry humping/grinding, she/ her pronouns, black coded , girly reader , sub! armin , praise, teasing, pet names (pretty , good boy, gorgeous), foot play? (not rlly). comments are welcome and loved!

“Min did you do my work like I asked you” You huffed as you slide onto his couch. Setting your pink coach purse on his lap smoothing out the wrinkles on your pretty gingham skirt.

Armin turned towards you a disappointed look on his face. “ I cant always do your work for you , how will you pass the class”

“Im going to pass just fine Armin what I dont have time for is you nagging me about something you promised you would do” You spoke bitterly crossing your arms over your chest.

Armin bristled at the bitter tone you spit out with his name. It was only “Armin” when you were annoyed with him , always a sugary “Min” or “ Minnie” when you talked to him.

With a sigh Armin took out your neatly folded homework that he had stayed up early in the morning finishing for you. “I cant always do this for you, I hardly have time to do my own work anymore”

“Sounds like a you problem not mine” you scoffed playing with the rings on your fingers. Why did he have to be so stubborn! Weren't friends supposed to help each other. You turned towards armins pouting frame a slight grin adorning your glossy lips an idea forming in your head as you slung your brown legs over his thighs bringing your hands to play with his blonde locks.

“Well I suppose if its just too much work for my little minnie to handle I could always ask rennie to do it for me dont wanna stress you out of course ” you twirled his hair between your fingers. “You know chem is his specialty”

Armin bristled at the mention of Erens name. Since when did you call him “rennie” nicknames were always something you reserved for him. He’ll be damned if he lets you spend any more time with the person who has him in this predicament in the first place

N-No its okay I can handle it dont worry your pretty head about it”

“Mhmm pretty? You think im pretty min” You leaned close brushing your lips over his ear circling your arms around his neck flirty smile adorning your perfect lips

Armin gulped , hands suddenly becoming sweaty, face growing hot. “Course I do…your the prettiest girl in the world” his cheeks flamed pink , he pushed his face into the collar of his sweater fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. God how he secretly loved when you teased him it never failed to have his dick growing tight in his boxers. He mentally sighed already knowing what game you were playing at. You always did this to him whenever you wanted him to do something using your sweet words against him.

“Well arent you adorable. But I don’t like complainers so maybe I will take my problems to eren since helping your best friend is such a chore” an annoyed expression made its way onto your face

You get up grabbing your purse off of his lap popping a piece of gum in your mouth prepared to leave for your dorm , but with one glance at his pants....you see he wasn’t embarrassed by your teasing but for another reason

“ Oh my god Minnie did you just get hard” you laughed pulling his flushed face closer to your own peering down at the obvious tent in his pants trying to get a closer look. “Thats so pathetic getting turned on from your best friend and I didnt even do anything. Giggling you bring your lips closer to his ear.

“oh my god are you like a pervert or something“

You laughed in his face relishing in how red his face got. Poking at his cheeks and grabbing his jaw in between your manicured hands. “Gosh who knew my geek of a best friend could even get it up , I mean arent you nerds supposed to only get any play from your hands and the pathetic little comic book girls and anime’s you watch, you probably jerk off to it too huh”

“ I d-dont I m-mean Im not a perv I dont jerk off to those types of t-things”

Armin stumbled over his words trying to say anything anything that would have you believe him , he didn't want you thinking he was a pervert on top of all the other things he guessed you didn't like about him anymore. The thought alone of you hating something about him made his head ache and his heart grind inside of his chest.

You stood up pressing the heel of your shoe into his growing erection “Your not a pervert? Then whats this minnie seems like you are one to me”

“You probably jerk off thinking about me when I leave dont you , I mean if something as small as a little teasing can get you this hard who knows what other perverted thought you think of me , thats so so so dirty and disgusting min”

He grabbed your ankle trying to remove your foot off of him which only made you press down harder. Armin groaned softly into the palm of his hand desperately trying to control his hips from rutting up into the palm of your shoe , your degrading words combining with how close you two were your perfume invading his senses all made his brain go foggy eyes glossing over.

“Aw look at you getting off on me stepping on your poor excuse of a dick ,is it even big? giggling you pressed your face closer to his

"Probably not I mean how could someone like you get that , the only thing your blessed with is that beautiful brain of yours and looks like thats going dumb too” you giggled moving your heel back and forth across the erection prodding at his zipper

Armin moaned at your harsh words hands shaking around your ankle as his hips started grinding up onto your shoe , pretty blue eyes starting to brim over with tears

“m-mhm sorry cant h-help it i'm sorry just feels s-so good c-causeyou ” he whined pathetically , tears slipping down his milky pink cheeks, trying to convey to you how this was technically your fault and failing miserably but his hips just couldn’t stop the slow grinding rhythm that had him start frantically humping your shoe

“God min your so pathetic look at you getting off on using my shoe like a dog in heat humping his owners leg , your fucking pathetic you know that. "so mind fucked already you cant even control your hips” You sneered taking his jaw between your fingers kissing away his tears prying open his mouth spitting your gum onto his pink tongue

“Maybe you should be like this always , my perfect pathetic little puppy" you smiled at the idea "thats all your good for anyways since you cant even handle doing a couple dumb homework assignments”

“.Y-Yea I can do that be your p-puppy mmm - love you s-so much you k-know that… dont wanna mmph - loose you” Armin whined out moving your foot to the same rhythm his hips were going trying to ease that achy feeling in his cock , all his emotions and fears of little you leaving him tumbling out in pathetic whines and whimpers.

“Oh min arent you adorable but cant have you cumming like this I mean you haven’t even thought about my needs tsk tsk such a selfish boy” You removed your heel from his body throwing a dissatisfied look his way

“I mean just look at me all drenched for you minnie” you laughed , “and who woulda thought little ol you could get me like this”

Armin went speechless watching you lift the hem of your skirt up giving him a nice pretty view of your soaked pussy through pink panties juices dripping down your thighs. you grabbed his hand placing it right where you needed it , small fingers overlapping his larger ones dragging his fingers up and down your clit circling the small bud.

Armins eyes zeroed in on your pretty panty covered pussy , eyes glossing over in a daze feeling the way the translucent slick coated his fingers feeling the heat of your pretty pussy through your panties

Finally finding some momentum to move because when would a chance to touch gorgeous you like this ever come again he thought, armin pulls your panties to the side thick fingers sliding between your gooey folds marveling in how much your dripping around him.

“I-idiot you gotta put them mhmph inside god have you even done this before” "so kay ill show you min" sliding your self onto his lap you put your back to his chest spreading your thighs over his much larger ones , bringing his hand back down over your pussy. “this is what you gotta do min make me feel good kay” you pushed two of his fingers inside your gummy walls back arching at the pleasurable intrusion.

Armin stared in awe at the swell of your breasts that started to poke out of your little top eyes trailing all the way down to where his fingers were now pushed nice and snug inside your pussy. God when was the last time you spoke to him so nicely? That sugary sweet tone you use to have for him returning to your voice. Was this all it took? His fingers plugging your hole for you to be nice to him?

“Min - Min!” You nudge the side of his face trying to nudge him out of his dazed off gaze “You gotta move your fingers dumb boy come on if you make me cum I promise Ill be reallyyy nice to you from now on” you smiled up at him leaning up just enough to press a glossy kiss to the side of his mouth

Armin’s ears perked up at that. Maybe you two could finally go back to how you used to be all he had to do was make you cum once? Armin found himself thinking he’d do anything anything to get you to look at him how you use to again without that demeaning gaze you usually held for him. He wrapped his forarm around your waist pulling you flush against him , knees pushing apart your legs to have you fully bared open for him.

He pulled his fingers slowly out of you and plunged them back into you , fingers stretching you out sliding against your gummy walls

“am I doing this right , y-you feel good look reallyy pretty like this” fingers fucking into your stuffed cunt at a brutal pace, glossy juices dripping down onto his lap. You could feel his dick twitching beneath you pressing into your behind and oh my god were you wrong about him being small.

“Min - minniee right there making me feel s-so good your such a good boy” your voice slurred trying to keep your head up but with each nasty thrust of his fingers your resolve fell. Your own fingers gripping his thighs , eyelashes fluttering shut at the familiar tight coil building in your stomach , ass rubbing back and forth over his dick squirming around in his lap

“ I-Im your g-good boy? y-yea yourgood boy” His teeth dug into his pink lips trying to suppress his pitiful noises , words slurring together at the praise you gave him. He shut his eyes in his head he knows he must sound so pathetic right now he just wanted to crawl away in embarrassment. I mean how could he be getting off on just your words praising him and the thick curve of your ass just simply pressing into him.

Even so the thought of disappointing you was even worse than his crippling embarrassment so he circled your clit with his thumb , fingers curling inside of your pink drooling hole, pampering your neck with open mouth sloppy kisses eager to do anything to make you cum to please you

“ooo minnie g-gonna cum your gonna make me cum im so close” your acrylic fingers curled around his wrist trying to drive his fat fingers deeper in your wet pussy. Armins head dropped on your shoulder slightly damp blonde hair tickling your cheek, thick rimmed glasses sliding down his nose.

“Gonna mhmm make you cum pretty gonna make you l-love me again. His words stuttered out of his mouth , his mouth making wet little hickies on your shoulder, thick fingers scissoring your drooling pussy , juices spilling into a small puddle onto his pants mixing in with his own pre cum from your mindless humping.

Armin removed his fingers from your cunt , fingers latching onto your waist arching you forward pulling his cock from the confines of his pants with a small groan from his lips. Pretty pink tip leaking so so much pre cum onto his thighs before he began moving you harshly back and forth on his dick sliding himself between your lips , pussy juices gushing down his shaft.

“Gonna cum like this pretty, p-prettiest pussy in the worlds gonna make me cum - mhmm s-so close” he rocked you back and forth against his cock gasping when he felt his head bump into your clit eyes rolling back the euphoric feeling of you humping his cock was bringing you both closer and closer to the edge “Ohgosh min angel feels so good b-best dick ever your like better than m-my pillow” you whined out , your moans bouncing off his walls, fingers grabbing his knees to leverage yourself to rut faster against him.

Angel. armin quivered at the soft name leaving your lips. Such a sweet endearment was directed towards him. If he wasn't a goner for you before he definitely was now.

The slick sounds , heavy breathing and your praise combined with all the gushing your pussy was doing and feelings he felt for you pushed him to the edge voice growing hoarse , him cumming onto your pussy with a loud moan head thrown back against the couch. You weren’t too far behind him , the feeling of his cum soaking your pussy making you cum with a soft moan , legs shaking nearly making you fall off his lap.

Armin finally gained enough strength to lift his head looking at you only to be met with the sight of your flushed fucked out face dipping between your thighs tasting the mix of cum you two left behind , tongue swirling your fingers leaving a soft pop!

“You taste good min really impressive for a dumb nerd like you” You grinned cheekily familiar teasing tone lacing into your voice.

“Tell me did grinding your dumb cock through my pussy feel good” you stroked your fingers through his hair , his head leaning into your touch before moaning into your palm when you sharply tugged at the blonde strands.

“Gonna use your shower now! Make sure my homework is done when I get out then we can finally put your looser cock to more work” taking off your clothing throwing it into his nearby hamper you blew him a kiss bouncing off to his bathroom.

Armin groaned loudly into his hand a lovesick doupy smile growing onto his lips. God what was he gonna do with you. He should have known one time wouldn’t be enough for you!

[minswriting]

Our Little Secret - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: You had always been attracted to your new step father since the day your mom brought him home. He was an attractive older man. He treated your mother well, despite not being home enough. But that didn’t matter too much since your mother was rarely home either. You knew that you shouldn’t feel some sort of way about your step-father. But what happens when he comes home from a rough case and seems to want you too?

Warnings: Step-daughter/step-father dynamic, NSFW, MDNI, 18+ content, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc.

Word Count: 3200

Note: This may suck a bit but i hope you all enjoy!

Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the greatest, truthfully. Your mother left your father when you were ten years old, leaving him alone to work full time and take care of his daughter. But when he passed away when you were fifteen, about eight years ago, due to cancer, your mother had taken you in because you had nowhere else to go. While she wasn’t abusive, the two of you fought quite often as you held a lot of resentment against her for leaving you and your father. And now, you were twenty-three, still living with your mother as you went through college because it was the easiest thing to do.

When you first laid eyes on Aaron Hotchner, it was a year after his wife had passed away. He had met your mother and the two had gotten engaged rather quickly, exclaiming that the two of them didn’t want to wait when they didn’t have to. They were both adults interested in one another. And Aaron was just glad that Jack had taken a liking to you almost immediately.

You had always been attracted to Aaron. He was an attractive man. He was a great father to Jack, looked amazing in a suit, he was kind and respectful. Not to mention the authoritative voice he took when he answered his work calls never failed to cause you to clench your thighs. It’s wrong of you to be attracted to your step-father. It’s taboo. And yet you couldn’t help it. You had spent many nights fingering yourself to the thought of your step-father fucking you so ridiculously good.

It was a Friday night. Jack was at a sleepover with one of his friends, your mom was on a work trip as she works as a traveling sales representative, and Aaron was on a case in New York, leaving you home alone for the night. You had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in a pair of shorts and t-shirt and went downstairs to do your college coursework on your laptop.

As you worked on an essay for your psychology class, you heard keys turning in the front door, signaling that someone was home. You looked up from your computer as you were sitting on the couch to see Aaron walking in looking exhausted and stressed. “Hey,” you greeted softly.

Aaron looked over at the couch, giving you a small smile. “Hey,” he greeted back, placing his bag down before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to you. “How’s everything going?” he asked, getting himself comfortable. His legs were spread, his knee touching yours unintentionally. But you made no effort to move away.

“Everything is good,” You replied, closing your laptop and placing it onto the coffee table. “Jack is at Pete’s house for the night. His mom will be taking him home in the morning. Mom’s still on her work trip for another week. And I was just working on an essay.” You took a deep breath, looking at Aaron. “How was the case?”

Aaron sighed, running a hand over his face. “It was certainly…something,” he said exhaustedly. “It was truthfully a rough one. It involves kids and those are always so hard.” You nodded in understanding, not really sure of what else to say. “How come you’re not out on a Friday night?” Aaron asked, looking at you with a curious look.

“Didn’t really feel like it,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. “My boyfriend asked me to go out but…I just didn’t feel like seeing him tonight.”

“Did something happen?” Aaron asked.

“Just a dumb argument a few days ago,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Nothing important.”

Aaron hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you even love him?” he asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion about the question. “What?” you asked, looking at your step father.

Aaron looked at you expectedly. “Do you even love him?” he asked again. “You are in this relationship and yet your body language shows that you’re not that interested in him.”

“Is that really any of your business?” you asked defensively.

“It is when your attention seems to be on me,” Aaron replied smoothly. He adjusted himself so that he was closer to you ever so slightly. His arm was draped on the top of the couch.

Your cheeks became hot as you looked at your step-father, unsure of what to say or what to do. “I-I have no idea what you mean,” you exclaimed, very clearly a lie though you didn’t want to admit that.

“Oh but I think I do,” Aaron said, quirking his lip. “I see the way you look at me, y/n. With those beautiful eyes, you look at me with longing, desire, and admiration. As though I am the thing you need and want most.” Aaron’s tone was soft but knowing. He was a profiler. He could likely tell you things about yourself that even you didn’t know.

“What about it?” You whispered, your attention focused on him completely. Your heart raced with anxiety. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Aaron’s words were true. You had desired him since the day you laid eyes on him. But it wasn’t right. It was taboo. Which is why you never thought that Aaron would ever feel the same or even acknowledge your thoughts.

Aaron’s arm moved to your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. His other hand went to your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “I look at you the same way,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning your cheek.

Hearing these words made your heart flutter and heat pool near your thighs. Your mother and step-fathers relationship had been a bit strained from the beginning. They sort of rushed into it, only caring about the fact that they didn’t need to worry about one another too much since neither one of them were home that much. The rare times they were both home, they acted like a perfect couple for a few days until reality settles in and they’re stuck with one another. But you never thought that Aaron would ever feel a type of way about you.

Without any other words spoken, Aaron softly placed his lips onto yours. It took you a moment to process what was truly happening. Your step-dad was kissing you. Something you’ve longed for quite a while was finally happening. And after a few moments of shock, you kissed Aaron back. For what started off as soft and innocent quickly turned hot and heated as Aaron’s hand began to roam your body. You found yourself moving onto his lap, sitting on top of him as you cupped his face. One of his hands landed on your hip while the other entangled in your hair.

You felt heat going straight to your core, dampening your panties. You couldn’t help but crave friction. While kissing Aaron, you tentatively moved your hips against his, grinding your cunt onto his clothed bulge. The both of you let out soft moans of pleasure, Aaron’s fingers digging into your hip. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at you, placing his other hand on your other hip. “Can you feel just how much I want you?” he asked in that same soft tone as before as he grinded you on his cock again.

You let out a soft moan, nodding your head. “Yes,” you replied. “Take me to bed?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course, princess,” Aaron replied. He moved you off of him to stand up before picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs. You held on by wrapping your arms around his neck. He brought you to his bedroom, the one he shared with your mother, placing you on the edge of his side of the bed. He leaned down, still standing as you were sitting, and placed his lips on yours once more.

One of his hands roamed your body, landing on your right boob as he massaged the skin through your shirt. You gasped into the kiss, the sensation sending sparkes to your cunt. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, moving to grab the hem of your shirt before pulling it off of you, revealing your flesh to him. You hadn’t worn a bra after getting out of the shower as you didn’t expect anyone to be home tonight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron said, moving a piece of your hair out of your face before leaning back down to kiss you. His hand massaged your skin, rolling your nipple around with his thumb. You let out a moan into Aaron’s mouth, unable to help yourself from making the noise.

After a few minutes of massaging both of your breasts, Aaron’s fingers trailed lower, reaching the waistline of your shorts. He pulled away from the kiss, looking at you with a serious face. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to do so,” He exclaimed.

“Please don’t stop,” you responded, looking up at Aaron with a lustful gaze. “I-I need you so bad,” you admitted, blushing in slight embarrassment.

“Good girl,” Aaron replied, moving his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts and panties. His praise caused you to let out a whimper. “You like being called that, don’t you?”

You nodded your head in response.

Aaron simply hummed in acknowledgement, running a finger down your slit to feel your wetness. “God, you’re soaked,” he whispered in awe. “All for me, princess?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered back, the name just falling out of your mouth without any thought.

You hadn't even realized you said it until Aaron let out a groan. “Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Those two words sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock as he processed what you had said. “I’ll give you anything you want, darling. You’re being such a good girl for me.” And with that, he began to rub your clit.

You let out a low moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you did so. Aaron moved himself so that he was sat behind you, his hand still on your clit while your back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around you, leaning in to kiss your neck. His finger went from your clit to your hole, spreading your wetness around before easing a finger inside of you. You whined at the feeling, letting out a soft “daddy,” in pleasure.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said into your skin. He began moving his finger slowly inside of you, teasing your pussy. Your soft moans were like music to Aaron’s ears as he played with your cunt. He eventually added a second finger, stretching you out slightly as he quickened his pace. He hooked his fingers, hitting your g-spot and causing you to jolt and arch your back.

“O-oh fuck,” you moaned, placing a hand on Aaron’s thigh. “Oh my god.”

If you had asked yourself earlier in the day if your step-father would be finger fucking you right now, you likely would’ve laughed. But here you are, getting finger fucked by the man you’ve only thought about, never thinking it would actually happen. The room was filled with the sounds of your wet cunt as Aaron sped up his fingers. You were writhing in his arms, your head rested on his shoulder.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured into your ear, his hot breath on your skin. “I’ve dreamt about doing this,” he began to speak. “Every time I come home from a case and you’re just sitting there in your pajamas, focused on your coursework, looking so beautiful.” Aaron’s other hand moved to your left boob, massaging the skin. “When you’d stretch and let out a small moan, it never failed to make me want to bend you over and take you right then and there.”

You whined in response, his words, the added pleasure, the repeated movements of his fingers inside of you, it was all so much. You felt that familiar heat building in your abdomen as your orgasm slowly approached. “Don’t even get me started on that vacation we took a few months ago,” Aaron continued. “That skimpy bathing suit that barely hid anything when we went to the beach,” His voice was very attractive and soft as he spoke. “Couldn’t help but touch myself that night in the shower to the thought of you while your mother was just in the other room.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby,” Aaron replied, moving his digits inside of you faster. “You’re doing so good.”

Your walls clenched around Aaron’s fingers as your orgasm came over you. Your thighs clamped together as you arched your back against Aaron, whining and moaning as you came. Aaron fingered you through your orgasm, coaxing you through it. And when you finally came down from your high, Aaron gave you soft kisses along your skin, calming you down.

“Daddy,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Need your cock,” you turned your head to look at Aaron, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And you’ll get it, baby,” Aaron hummed, turning his face to kiss you on the lips. He let go of you, standing up from his spot behind you. “Take your shorts off for me.” He said as he began unbuttoning his shirt. You obliged, pulling down your shorts and tossing them to the side, leaving you fully nude. You bit your lip, looking up at Aaron with doe eyes.

Aaron tossed his shirt to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. He tossed his belt to the side, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxer briefs. You let out a small whimper as Aaron’s cock sprang out. He was about seven inches but he was quite girthy, definitely bigger than your previous partners. “You’re so big,” you whispered, looking at his cock.

Your words caused Aaron to chuckle. “Am I?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. “Glad you think so, princess.” He walked back over to the bed as he kicked his pants away. “Lay on your side for me.”

You nodded your head, laying down on your side, your head on the pillows. Aaron moved your leg, holding it up slightly as he kneeled on the mattress, straddling your other leg. He rested your leg on his thigh, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your pussy. He brought the tip to your clit before moving it down, spreading your wetness onto his cock. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets. His cock moved to your hole, slowly probing at your entrance. You moaned at the intrusion, feeling the stretch in your cunt. Aaron hissed in pleasure as your walls enclosed around his member.

Tears formed in your eyes at the sting. Aaron leaned down to kiss your temple, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to relax you. When Aaron bottomed out, he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. “Y-you can move,” you said.

Aaron began to slowly thrust, moving his hips out before moving back inside of you. The both of you let out moans as he settled into a slow rhythm. “You’re so fucking tight, princess,” Aaron groaned.

“So big, daddy,” you whined, burying your head into the pillow. Aaron’s cock filled you up so good, hitting in spots you had never felt before. “Never been so full.”

Aaron moaned softly, leaning down to capture your lips with his as he thrusted his hips. His cock grazed your g-spot, going deeper inside of you, causing you to let out a choked moan. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned against Aaron’s lips. “F-faster, please.”

And he obliged. He moved his hips at a faster pace, putting a hand in your hair and tugging at the strands. You started to moan louder, your eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s cock plunged in and out of you. “You’re so perfect,” Aaron exclaimed, breathing heavily. “Being such a good girl for me.” Aaron started thrusting into you harshly, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “Mine,” he said, leaning down to nip at your neck.

“All yours, daddy,” you whined. “Always yours.” The moans leaving your mouth were whorish as his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. You turned your head to bury it in the pillows.

That was until Aaron gripped your hair, yanking your head back a bit. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he said, his voice rough and filled with desire. You obeyed, turning your head to look up at Aaron with your beautiful eyes. His brown orbs were on you as he fucked you, his pace almost brutual.

The sensation of his cock pounding into you made tears of pleasure well up in your eyes, making you let out a sob. “Daddy,” you sobbed in pleasure. “it’s too much, too much.” you babbled.

Aaron cooed, running a soothing hand through your hair. “You can take it,” he replied, not relenting up. “Be a good girl and take it.” Aaron groaned.

The repeated assault onto your g-spot made your abdomen tighten as you felt your orgasm approaching. “So close,” you whimpered.

“Me too, baby, me too.”

And with just a few thrusts, you were clenching around Aaron’s cock, cumming for the second time that night. Aaron hissed in pleasure, letting out a moan as he followed suit, cumming inside of your cunt. You babbled as you came, letting out a mantra of “oh my gods” and “daddy” as Aaron moaned out sweet nothings.

When you both finished, the both of you were breathing heavily, Aaron still inside of you. He kissed your cheek. “You did so good,” he murmured.

As you came down from your high, Aaron pulled out, laying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, putting his other arm underneath your head and pulling you close to him. You turned towards him, laying your head on his chest. The both of you were silent, not saying a word as you processed what had happened. Your step father just fucked you into oblivion.

So what happens now?

“What does this mean for us?” You murmured softly, glancing up at Aaron’s face.

Aaron gave you a small smile, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Well, we can continue as we were and pretend as though this didn’t happen,” he murmured back. “Or we can keep this a secret and explore what this is.”

“Our little secret?” You asked.

“Our little secret, princess.”

And so, that’s what it was. Your own little secret with your step-father. And thus your intimate relationship began.

[jaylaxies]

KINKTOBER DAY 30 — SOMNOPHILIA

PAIRING: jay x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, cnc, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, usage of nicknames, somnophilia.

WC: 1.1k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! another one of my purely self indulgent fic omg i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“Fuck! I shouldn’t be reading this.”

Jay was by far, possibly the sweetest guy you had ever come across in life. Despite having the face of a literal god, he was always calm and humble, everything you could have asked for in a roommate.

Which also meant that he respected your boundaries, a little too much for your liking, never looking your way for more than ten seconds, failing to maintain eye contact.

You thought he was doing it to be respectful towards you, but the groans of your name coming from his room at night said otherwise. Sharing spaces meant that you had to do such things (read: be respectful) but you didn’t want that.

You often find yourself pondering about how it would be had Jay been a little different, a little more shameless with his approach. He was beautiful, he clearly oozed confidence and was the epitome of non sexual dominance.

Yet your mind kept drifting to the question of how it would be to feel his sexual dominance instead.

Jay may be a saint but you weren’t one by any means, you’d stare at him any chance you get, it’s always the best sight to see him stretching in the morning with grey sweatpants on.

And as an output to your pent up frustration, you keep a diary of the things you want Jay to do to you, writing about your fantasies in your own handwriting because writing on the notes app doesn’t feel as filthy.

You took your chance when Jay came into your room to ask for a few extra hangers to arrange his new shirts.

Your diary was wide open as Jay sat down on your bed. He didn’t mean to pry, but it was literally right in front of his eyes as he waited for you to get those hangers from the storage.

His name on your diary though, was enough to get his attention.

I wish Jay would be a little bold, I just wish he’d be a little more perverted. I wish he’d touch me and use me for his pleasure instead of locking his room and moaning out my name during nights when he thinks I’m asleep. He’s too sweet, too much of a gentleman to make any moves. But it won’t stop me from wishing to be woken up with his cock stuffed in my pussy, there’s nothing more I ask for.

Jay didn’t realize just how tight his grip was on your diary, not being able to comprehend the filth you had been writing. He kept the diary back the second he heard you coming back with the hangers.

He couldn’t look you in the eyes, too deep in his head still thinking about how you had admitted that you wanted to be fucked by him while sleeping.

He couldn’t sleep that night, nor could he work up the courage to get into your room to do exactly what you had wanted from him. However, he couldn’t stop himself from getting hard too.

He really wanted to fuck you senseless.

You were disappointed. You knew that Jay had definitely come across your diary, yet he turned a blind eye on it, which you thought would be out of respect again, when in reality, Jay was simply trying to convince himself that you wanted it.

Two nights passed by, and you lost a sliver of hope. Still, you wore your slip nightgown with no panties just in case.

Jay was fucked up, his carnal desire taking over as he got up from his bed, “she wants it,” he told himself in front of the mirror, nodding once before making his way to your room.

The dim lights of your room were enough to guide him to your bed and he was extra careful, taking the blanket off your figure, a low groan leaving his mouth the second he saw your little dress all ridden up, displaying your pussy to him.

“Fuck,” he moved closer to get a better look, caressing your thighs gently to make sure you were deep in your sleep.

He wants to ruin you already, parting your legs when he doesn’t sense any movement from you, getting in between to have a little taste, which he’d been craving since the day he first saw you. He starts off gently, littering soft kisses over the expanse of your inner thighs, squeezing them as he gets closer to your core.

He licks his lips at the sight of your glistening folds, chuckling at the fact that your body responds to his touches despite you being asleep.

You stir in your sleep the second he lays his tongue flat against your cunt, he’s slow with his movements, but also tempted to be fast as he engages in circling your clit with his thumb, his tongue working wonders on your folds.

A gasp leaves your mouth, causing him to freeze his actions for a brief second, getting up to look at your eyes which were still closed, breathing slightly sped up, which means that he had to work fast.

He spit on your cunt for lubrication, getting rid of his sweatpants as he didn’t bother wearing any T-shirt. He was hard. Harder than he had ever been, precum leaking from the tip of his cock, which he strokes a few times before positioning himself, his cock prodding your entrance.

“Gonna have you screaming for my cock,” Jay whispered, looking at your innocent sleeping face.

He grabs your waist, getting into the missionary position, not before giving your tits some attention and squeezes, but now he was desperate to have his cock in you.

It’s easy to bottom out with how wet you are, his groans loud with how your warm walls clenched around him so desperately, and he could sense that your sleep was on the verge of breaking, your eyes blinking open.

“J—Jay?” You moan, seeing him on top of you with his cock stuffed deep inside your pussy.

It felt like a dream, especially when you had lost hope, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when his tip hit that particular spot.

His chain caressed your clavicle, “finally awake, baby?” He whispered, thrusting in deeper, your back arching as you held on to his shoulders for support, “been waiting for me to fuck you, hm? Now you have me,” he groaned.

“Fuck—Jay,” you cried out, breathy moans leaving your mouth and he bends down to kiss you feverishly, “I’ve been waiting so long for this,” you admit, “didn’t think you’d do it—”

“Yeah?” He took it as a challenge to go even harder, “why? Cause I’m too much of a gentleman?” He mocked your diary entry, making it a point to twist around slightly to thrust in deeper, his hips snapping against yours, chuckling when you mumble incoherently.

“I’ll show you how much of a gentleman I can be, baby.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[paintedonmyteeth]

AHH HII!!! saw the mr crawling fic u posted and it's adorable :(( can i please have a mr crawling x reader where they have a condition that makes them sleepy? andAND because of this, sometimes they do strange things like, for example, talking non coherently, sleeping in weird places and having tics while sleeping!! i really want some fluff with this man...... *holds my hands out like a poor victorian child*

As always, take your time!! your aesthetic and work is genuinely really good!! you are great at this <3 mwahmwah. 🐁

Mr Crawling and Narcoleptic!reader

A/N: *shakes you violently* OMG ANON YOU'RE A GENIUS you just made my day with this btw — ask and ye shall receive >:)) As for the condition I think you might be asking for a Narcoleptic reader or something of those lines but YEAH I can totally do that, here you go, mini oneshot for you 🫵🏻🫵🏻

Summary: Mr Crawling’s been noticing some weird behaviours from you lately for the past few days and it’s both funny and worrying, are you okay???

WARNING: This is set after the Blissful Love Life ending, if you don’t want spoilers then keep scrolling!

It’s been little over a few days now since you and Mr. Crawling escaped his world, and the two of you were perfectly settled together at your place. Mr. Crawling so far’s been pretty happy overall, getting to stay home with you in your world and has grown pretty attached to you. But, as of lately, he’s been noticing some…'strange' behaviours from you.

You seemed to be more sluggish when moving around the house and sleepy, he even found you crashed in the bathroom, at your desk, and other places in the house. He found the sight to be cute but at the same time it was also getting a little worrisome.

Were humans always this sleepy?? He’s never seen you this sleepy when the both of you were still in his world. Well, maybe he did a few times without realizing it, but he failed to pick up on it.

He even caught you mumbling incoherent things and twitching in your sleep while the two of you were cuddled up in bed. He thought you were hurting somewhere whenever he felt you quivering in his arms, which made him hug you tighter and run his fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you. It was another day done of hours of work when you came back home, had food, and shortly went to bed with Mr. Crawling following after you like a lost puppy. Considering how exhausted you were from work, you passed out in seconds the moment you flopped onto the bed.

Later in the night, Mr. Crawling was curled up under the covers, with you spooned in his arms, the bedroom completely pitch black with the curtains drawn closed and there was a comfortable silence that filled the room. His arms were wrapped securely around you in a comforting squeeze, he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck, inhaling your scent for a moment and he instinctively squeezed you a little tighter. Relishing in the warmth your body radiated...

The silence then was suddenly broken when he heard you mumbling things in a slurred tone, (unfortunately he picked up little words he could understand considering he still had a lot to learn with your language), and he could feel your muscles twitching once in awhile. Mr. Crawling however grew worried again, he lied there uncertain if he should try to wake you up or not. He didn’t want you getting cranky or annoyed for waking you up, but this was really starting to bug him and he wanted to help.

Mr. Crawling began to shake you gently to rouse you from your slumber, but you weren’t budging much, so he shook you a tad harder. “Human? Wake?” He murmured quietly. It took him another few tries until you started to stir from your sleep and you shifted in his arms to your discomfort.

“Mmn?… Mr. Crawling?….” You mumbled out quietly, your words sounding slurred in your half-asleep state.

Oh, good, you’re not mad. “Human hurt? Why twitching in sleep?” Mr. Crawling questioned, his fingers curled into the fabric of your night shirt. “Me worry, me want to help.”

You shifted under the covers again and you turned over to face Mr. Crawling, stretching your legs in a sluggish manner and your muscles relaxed. “I’m okay bud, I’m not hurt,…” Your words trailed off for a moment, straining back another yawn and your fingers found their way into Mr. Crawling’s hair, gently patting him. “It’s just my narcolepsy acting up, nothing to worry about…”

Narcolepsy?

Of course the term sounded unfamiliar to Mr. Crawling’s ears, “Narc-lep-see?…” He repeated, confused. As you could feel yourself slowly slipping in and out of unconsciousness, you did your best to try and explain your condition to Mr. Crawling. Mr. Crawling failed grasp much of it (in complicating terms-wise), but he seemed to understand it was something that made you very sleepy throughout the day. He also had the look of disappointment when you mentioned it was incurable, surely it could be fixable. If Mr. Silvair was here he might’ve found a way!

Before Mr. Crawling could even ask more questions about it, you were now unresponsive and had drifted off to sleep. He couldn’t be mad at you (not like he would anyways), he did abruptly wake you up after all. So he decided to keep quiet and save the rest of his questions for the morning, his arms fastened around you again and he rests his chin on the top of your head. Intently listening to your soft breathing and the dark noise of the bedroom that filled his ears. From this point on starting tomorrow, he’ll do the best he can to help you out…