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kitten4sannie · 6 months ago

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dolce and gabbana

pairing: san x guest! reader (fem)

genre: pure smut with a tiddlywink of plot

summary: san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: some alcohol use, subby until he’s not! san, dommy mommy who folds instantly when san asserts himself! reader, both reader and san mutually go after one another despite knowing one of them is MARRIED (hoes will be hoes what can i say <3), reader’s husband is a dick ofc, misogyny (from said husband), cheating, seduction, exhibitionism, mommy/daddy kink….. (i’m weak okay,,), teasing, ITS BIG BTW AND CURVED……, only praise and pet names (omg who hacked k4s???), groping, fingering, kissing, dry humping on a couch in a very crowded room, one neck bite, san cums untouched, oral (receiving), squirting, one singular pussy slap, san puts reader into a mating press on her husband’s side of the bed just for funsies, manhandling, size kink, breeding kink, creampies (sannie cums a lotttt)

a/n: as a pudding since day 1 i am in absolute shambles thanks for asking <3 and YES im very aware i posted yesterday but the fic demons cannot be silenced!!! and just fyi i’m sure san was very grateful and absolutely brimming with excitement to be at the show!! the way i wrote him here does not reflect his actual feelings towards anything,, its just a silly fic and i wrote what i wanted lol. also i wish i could tell you how many times “dolce and gabbana that’s on my titties~” played in my head while i typed this out 😭😭 (also i did not proofread this whatsoever so forgive me if there are errors) but anyways, i hope you enjoy :33

song recs: la romana by bad bunny, rover by kai, planet goddamn by mac miller

San knew eyes would be on him. Why wouldn’t they be? He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back to showcase his alluring, feline-like eyes, his sharp, angular features that could give someone a fatal cut if they looked for too long, and most importantly, he was all decked out in a sleek black custom-made top that perfectly adorned his broad shoulders and chest, one that even cinched securely around his impossibly tiny waist. Of course it did. It had been custom fit and made just for his body. Even the tailor had jokingly mentioned that Michelangelo himself must’ve sculpted him to perfection in the heavens before San was born, but San wasn’t laughing. He perfected his body through his own sheer willpower and determination alone, to be the best that he could be for his own self — and if people just so happened to drool over the results of his hard work, then that was simply a perk.

Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the many camera flashes, he continued to make his way down the walkway, offering many of the starstruck guests a courteous, though charming smile, wondering if their wandering gazes were due to his breathtaking ensemble or what was sitting just below it. The thought tickled him. It continued to amuse him throughout the afternoon, taking picture after picture with eager guests and wealthy tycoons alike, quite pleased with himself when neither man nor woman could seem to control themselves around him, their eyes always drifting downwards to look San up and down like he were next up in an auction, their mouths pressed to their champagne flutes in an effort to quell the thirst they felt, their free hands lingering just a little too long on the small of his back when they bid farewell to him.

San relished the fact that these poor starving individuals could never get a taste of him, no matter how incredibly rich or influential they were. None of them would get a bite of the forbidden fruit without permission from God.

It was then that the show started, various eye-catching models sashaying their way across the aisle to showcase the latest D&G collection, all displaying their own unique set of features and charm. All flawless and angelic in their own right, but they were almost predictable in that way — like mannequins made solely for the rich and beautiful to gawk at. San couldn’t help but look past them, only focusing on the expensive, tailor made clothes that were framing their perfect bodies. And after a while, he almost seemed to grow bored. Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sheer gaudiness of it all, the lack of self awareness for things that really mattered in the modern world, and the almost nauseating amount of self-sucking the rich individuals around him seemed to be fond of doing. San would’ve pondered it more when somebody near him gently patted his thigh, causing him to look down at the small manicured hand, the diamond ring around your finger glinting in the light like a warning sign.

“Are you bored like I am?” you whispered softly into his ear from beside him, giving him a quaint smile when he turned his head to face you.

San blushed, leaning slightly in your direction. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, don’t worry. None of these drones will be able to notice.” You motioned your head to the crowd around you, their phones in hand, all whispering to each other about how revolutionary the new collection was, despite it looking eerily similar to the fall one from the year before. “You could whip your cock out and no one would bat an eye.”

“Oh?” San studied your flirtatious smile, then looked down just to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Yep, the ring was still there — and it probably cost more than a starter house. Delighted by your forwardness, San took it upon himself to tease you, reaching down to slowly unbutton his slim-fitted pants. “Well, if that’s the case…”

Your cheeks turning bright red, you reached downwards to shield his crotch from view, looking up at him with wide eyes, your faces now impossibly close. “I-i was fucking with you! Don’t actually take out your dick…”

San’s sharpened eyes flitted from your gaze to your cherry red lips, letting go of his zipper to gently take your hand in his, pressing it firmly down onto his thigh. “Yet…?” he challenged huskily, wondering if you were like all the others and would yank your hand back, scoff in disgust, and pretend as if it had never happened. It was then that San felt you squeeze your warm hand into the meat of his thigh, your fingers just barely pressing into the inseam of his pants.

“You can be a good boy and wait till the after party, can’t you?” you asked in a lower, sultrier tone, pressing your lips to his cheek to leave your mark on him, your hand moving further up his thigh, only pulling away when you felt something hard press into your palm. Smiling sweetly, you leaned in again, this time allowing your lips to brush over his. “Good things come to those who wait.”

And just like that, you turned forward to focus on the models all gathering onto the stage at once along with the designers, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when they all took a bow. You blew a kiss to one of the designers who caught it and pretended to put it in his pocket.

Still breathless from your short encounter, San nudged your thigh with his own, biting into his lip and tasting the sweetness of your lipstick. You nudged him back, glancing at him through the corner of yours eyes, licking at your own lips, like a predator would before pouncing on their prey.

San couldn’t believe he had finally met someone like you. There was a serpent in his garden — and he couldn’t wait for it to swallow him up.

The after party was predictable as always — strangers binge drinking and snorting powder off of your previously pristine marble tabletops, others telling embellished stories about their latest trip to their private islands to various locked-in acquaintances, some off doing god knows what in your many empty guest rooms, and you could not, for the life of you, care about what your husband was currently cackling over with his close friends, focusing on the crackling wood sitting inside the fireplace you were all huddled near. When you inevitably ran out of champagne, you patted your husband’s leg so that he could remove his arm from your waist.

He looked down at you with indifference. “What is it?”

“I need more champagne, honey. I’m going to get some.”

Your husband’s face scrunched up. “Haven’t you had enough? If you drink anymore, you’re going to lose your nice figure.” He looked to his friends for validation who simply nodded along in agreement.

Your husband’s chauvinistic comments didn’t bother you anymore, just his persistent presence in your life. He was like a mosquito that was always trying to drain you, one that you could never seem to swat away. Well, nothing a little dick couldn’t fix. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall the tailor coming in this morning for an emergency visit to alter a certain suit,” you mentioned, this time pushing your husband’s arm away from you, surveying his now quiet friends with an unbothered look, before wandering off, not registering the insecurity driven ramblings that your husband was sending your way.

Once you made your way into the crowded loft, you searched your surroundings for what you were looking for, humming at the sight of the pretty boy from earlier sitting on the large plush couch in the corner, a half-empty champagne flute in hand, his attention on one of the models that had walked for your husband’s collection a few hours earlier. He was even more handsome now that you could study his captivating details, your eyes drifting over his bulky frame, from his large arms and shoulders, to his delicate waist, and down to his spread thighs, zeroing in on what was between them, knowing that the beautiful stranger was blessed in more ways than one based off what you had felt earlier.

Without hesitation, you slowly made your way across the room, your stiletto heels digging into the fur carpet below with each concentrated step, licking your red lips when the model placed one of her hands on San’s thighs and squeezed it, his suddenly submissive expression causing more knots to form within your core. You were going to make him yours.

San could barely hear the pretty model’s words over the loud music and the many overlapping voices inside the loft, not knowing what to say when she moved closer to him, clearly going in for the kill. It was then that someone stood over him, their heel nudging into his loafer. He looked up, his once hazy eyes opening wide at the sight of you standing above him with a bottle of champagne in one hand, your other hand already cradling his face. “M-miss…there you are…”

“Here I am,” you purred, running your fingers along his jaw, satisfied with the fact that your lipstick print was still visible on his tan skin.

San gulped, just about spilling the drink he was still holding onto, unknowingly spreading his thighs open further, as if he was giving you an unspoken invitation to climb onto his lap.

Humming, you lowered yourself into his lap, your plush thighs and ass pressing snuggly against his lower half. “Look at you,” you cooed softly into San’s ear, not caring to give the now fuming model any attention, lowering the cold champagne bottle in between your bodies, chuckling at the soft whimper he let out when it pressed into the exposed sections of his skin. “You’re such a good boy, saving a seat for Mommy like this. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes, I am, s-so good for you…”

“Then, be good and open your mouth,” you purred, lifting the almost empty bottle and pouring some into your mouth. San’s jaw slowly dropped, not knowing that he was already beginning to drool. You didn’t mind, clutching the sides of his heated face and pressing your parted lips onto his, transferring the sparkling alcohol to him, but not without running your tongue over his.

San brought his hands up near the sides of your ass, his fingers trembling, not knowing if he was allowed to touch you, whimpering into your mouth when you sucked the alcohol off of his tongue.

“You can touch, baby.” You reached for his wrists and brought his hands underneath the hem of your short dress, gasping when he squeezed the softness of your ass in between his ringed fingers and began to slowly guide your hips, your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth over his stiffening cock. “Mm, someone’s eager, hm? You’re a naughty one, making the main designer’s wife grind on your cock like this in front of everyone.”

“It’s…Mommy’s fault…” San murmured near your ear, rolling his own hips up into yours, making you feel every inch of his trapped throbbing cock each time he ground himself into you, biting into his lip at the sound of your breathless moans, swearing he saw your grimacing husband from over your shoulder.

“My fault, huh? Mommy should make up for it, shouldn’t she?” you sighed back onto his heated skin, pressing kiss after kiss onto his collarbones, dragging your tongue along the constellation of freckles he had on his neck, making him shudder underneath you.

“Uh-huh…” San moaned out, your hand suddenly squeezing into and sliding back and forth over his erection, your thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pronounced tip, knowing he was staining his expensive pants with sticky pre-cum. “F-fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that…”

“So sensitive, baby, you’re so cute…but you’re not the only one, you know? Look what you did to Mommy~” You gave his balls a gentle squeeze just to hear him whimper, before letting go, instead reaching for his hand again and leading it between your legs, moving your soaked panties to the side just in time for San to fill you up with two thick fingers.

“You’re so wet…” San groaned, unable to keep himself from adding another digit inside your slick hole, beginning to pump them in and out of you, allowing the both of you to listen to the obscene squelching sounds your cunt made each time he finger-fucked you. Something switched inside of San when you began to whine and whimper, and fuck yourself back on his fingers, your eyebrows screwed upwards, begging him for more with your teary, half-closed eyes. “So fucking wet just for me, huh? Hey, Miss, did you know your husband is standing just across the room? Think he’s hard knowing I just got his pretty little wife wetter than she’s been in her entire life?”

“B-baby, don’t tease me like that,” you whispered, not wanting the control you had over him to slip out of your grasp, grabbing onto his shoulders, accidentally causing pieces of his solid outfit to fall off and land onto the leather couch.

“It’s San, Miss, but you can call me Sannie if you wanna be a good girl for me,” he chuckled, shoving his fingers into you up to the knuckles, rolling your clit around underneath his heavy thumb. “And, I’m not teasing you, my love, he’s really watching us, and he looks like he wants to kill me.”

Just as you looked behind you to catch your husband’s displeased gaze, San began to ram his soaked digits into your spasming cunt, feeling his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck. “O-oh my god, Sannie, oh, fuckkkk…”

Just as your warm arousal began to pour out onto his fingers and lap, San bit down into the area where your neck and collarbone connected, letting out a few stunted groans, his hips jolting up into yours, coating the insides of his designer pants with white.

“Did you just…?” you began, before San stuffed his fingers into your mouth, growing quiet and sucking your arousal off of them. He pulled them out with a pop, but you didn’t even get the chance to continue your question because you were suddenly being lifted up into the air, strong hands clutching your thighs, your legs hooked around San’s waist.

Your defeated, emasculated husband was just a blur when San carried you through the crowded room and up the stairs, not stopping until he got to the largest room at the end of the expansive hallway.

“Which side does your husband sleep on?” San asked, once he stood at the foot of the kingsized bed.

“On the right. Why do you–O-oh,” you gasped as he quickly laid you out on the right side of the bed and lifted your dress up, forcefully spreading your thighs open so that he could bury his face in your cunt, repeatedly lapping at your slit and clit over your soaked panties until he couldn’t take it, reaching up to tear your panties off with ease. “Sannie, baby boy, what’s gotten into you?”

San looked up at you with dark, dilated eyes, reaching up to his broad body to rip off the rest of his outfit, his solid muscles flexing as he closed his fingers around your waist, yanking you lower so that your cunt was closer to his face, looking like he was about to eat you alive. “Daddy’s hungry,” he simply replied, diving back into your cunt to lick and slurp up your juices, tonguing your hole just to feel you clench around him, his nose nudging your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

Sooner or later, you began to shudder and pant, tugging at the ends of San’s sweaty hair, your thighs pressing into the sides of his head until he forcefully held them down, quickly moving his head up and down as he dragged his tongue roughly over your throbbing clit, his focused eyes never leaving yours. “S-sannie, I’m really, fuck– I’m gonna cum…!”

“Cum for Daddy,” he demanded gruffly, stuffing three fingers into your cunt and pounding them into your g-spot, lifting your ass up with his other hand so that he could catch the stream of arousal that suddenly squirted out of you, some of it inevitably soaking into the satin sheets below you. San licked your juices from his lips, going down to give your puffy cunt one last lick to savor your taste, before standing up from the bed and unbuckling his pants.

“Y-you….Did you get possessed by a demon?” you asked half-jokingly, unable to keep your thighs from trembling, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

“And if I did? You’d still let me fuck you, wouldn’t you?” San smiled devilishly, his dimples appearing, kicking off his pants and running his closed hand along his curved, dripping length. He pressed his thighs against the side of the bed, running the tip of his cock over your lips, watching fondly as you sucked and licked the beads of pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

“I would.” Lifting yourself up so that you could completely rid yourself of your disheveled dress, you reached up for the handsome stranger, licking the saltiness from your lips. “Now, come here and show Mommy just how much Daddy wants her.”

San wasted no time climbing back onto the bed and folding you up into a mating press, leaning back to send a few wads of spit onto your cunt, smacking his hand against the wetness for good measure, before he plunged himself deep inside you.

You just about screamed, not ready for San’s unusual size and shape, the curve of his cock rubbing deliciously along your tightening walls each time he pounded himself into you. “S–ann–ie…! It’s so big, fuck– so good!”

“Aww, poor baby’s never had a big cock stretching out her pretty pussy before, huh?” San cooed into your ear, pulling all the way out, just to slam himself back in, hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out deliriously. “You’ll never be able to go back to your husband after this. You’re gonna be begging for me to take care of you from now on….” San pressed his lips against yours, sucking on your tongue as you moaned out for him. “Want you to cum for me again, baby…Squirt on my cock, okay?”

“S-Sannie, it’s too much,” you whined out, dragging your nails down his broad back, your toes curling just as San punched your next orgasm out of you when his curved cock once again came in contact with your g-spot.

As you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure, San licked your tears away, gently pressing his lips into your cheek and jaw, shushing you. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s here for you.” He clutched you close, holding still inside you, as his cock began to twitch. “Here it comes, princess, just for you.” A hot, creamy stream of cum began to shoot out into you, completely drenching your insides with his load.

You could hardly speak at this point in time, solely concentrated on the pleasure that still had a hold on your sore body and the warmth that was filling you up to the brim, suddenly realizing that your husband really wasn’t going to be happy with you. “Y-you shouldn’t have…nnnngh….”

San continued to roll his hips into you, his eyelids fluttering, groans spilling from his throat, your cunt still milking his pulsing cock for all it had, which was a lot, to say the least. Once there was nothing left to give you, San leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, not caring that you had left your lipstick all over him. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Y-yes, San?”

San smiled, his glossy brown eyes glistening in the light. “When you have my baby, will you have the heart to tell your poor husband that it’s actually mine?”

Panting heavily and trying to process what the handsome stranger just said, you finally came to the realization that you let someone who didn’t even know your name possibly impregnate you. Well, at least you had something to talk about over breakfast with your husband, rather than hear him go on and on about his latest collection.

“I’m not sure about that one…”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Hm?”

“Should I name our baby Dolce or Gabbana?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

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catfishofoldin99colours · 2 years ago

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*posts something and becomes obsessed with how many likes it gets*

oh yeah that's why art made me go crazy 🤪

#catfish speaks #hmmmmm #tryna ignore The Gram #I'm REALLY proud of my latest piece too #like it turned out really well im super happy with it #argh i hate the ugly feeling i get when im obsessed with whos liked it and how many #its. god #truly hate it #all the nice accomplishment just Sucked away into wondering if people like it #no more gram for today #this on the back of my fic not getting any comments either :')#idk i was kinda hoping Someone would say something nice #hhhh trying not to wallow its just. god

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messenger-of-babel · 2 months ago

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Always Late

Summary: Batman was late when you needed him the most, but he refused to let it happen again. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 4.5K (This was supposed to be a quick fic 💀)

Notes: BIG AUTHOR NOTE INCOMING Before anyone comes for me- I know this was supposed to be a day for Chris. I'm just feeling a touch sick but still want to get a fic out, and I'm currently not able to churn out and go through his, so I'll write some Chris later! Instead I wanted something else, consider it a change up to shake some life back into the theme. I also rambled hella long on this one, so strap in, it's long and the plot got lost in the maze of my mind. I had to shuffle things around and it just kept growing and growing, oh my god so I hope it makes sense to everyone still. Clark caemo, some (very??) OOC villain work cause I forgot some of my original plot and villains so begging on my knees for forgiveness fr. GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/ TORTURE DESCRPTION FOR SOME AREAS. I should have made this two parts but I messed up and made just one massive fic. Was supposed to be batfam x reader but it started feeling more like bruce x reader hahaha. RIP my sleep schedule please reap the benefits of my labour. 😭

Again I was originally here to be a resi blog but I can't help writing for DC after a day of reading comics. On that topic I actually finished collecting Tom Taylor's run at #118, my store held #119 for me so I get to read that as a reward after the hell that will be my Monday.

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When you were taken, it caused a widespread panic among Gotham.

Tabloids across the city wrote about the latest missing person, this time none other than the latest member of billionaire Bruce Wayne's family. The Gotham Gazette had been running articles about you for months already, including the scandal that had come with it. Your dirty laundry and past had been aired for the entire city to read and speculate upon. Whether Bruce had just adopted you out of pity, sympathising with the way that you had lost your parents the same way he had. Gossip about it could all be a ploy for him to expand his influence in Gotham, after the riches and estate that your family had left you behind in their untimely death. The city was thrown into chaos from the death of your parents, both of them from founding Gotham families and well-established lawyers. It was shaken more once the Wayne had taken you into his household, and now it was all but alight as you vanished.

Fingers pointed in every which way, your disappearance marking the fourth among affluent families in Gotham. Accusations had even been hurled at Bruce, claiming that he had killed you in order to gain your assets and the other missing people were to establish an alibi. After all, Bruce Wayne had no alibi for the night that you went missing.

But he had an alibi.

Bruce reflected upon that fact for three days already, while he tore his hair out trying to find you. He had been out in the city, patrolling as usual. The disappearances were the latest case, and he was determined to stop them before they continued. He had been so involved in the case, standing so close to the evidence that he didn't even consider the option that he himself would be affected, or consider the perpetrator might targe the Waynes. he hadn't expected to get a call from Alfred a little past midnight, the butler wheezing painfully into the receiver.

Blood freezing in his veins he had come home to an empty house, windows on the third story smashed in. Alfred was slumped by the phone, its sleek body hanging off the hook. Bruce had pulled the cowl off without a second thought, cradling the older man's head in his lap with shaky hands. He had relaxed slightly when there was a steady pulse under his fingers, and the tension eased further when the older man had opened his eyes.

"Alfred," Bruce had sighed out, moving the old man from his lap to against the wall, hand keeping him upright. "Are you okay-"

"They took them." came the old man's mumbled reply, and for a second Bruce's jaw just hung there.

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart thudding painfully against his ribs, panic rising once more.

"They came through the window, cut the lights. I pretended to be unconscious to use the phone line, but they came back. Cut it shortly after I rang you." the older man said, looking up with remorseful eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Wayne." he said forlornly. "I couldn't stop them."

Bruce looked down; jaw tensed. "It wasn't your fault." he said firmly, trying to quell the despair radiating off the old man.

"They took them kicking and screaming. I could hear them the entire time, but I couldn't do anything I-"

"Alfred." Bruce said sternly. "Alfred it's okay. Let me handle it, you go make some tea." he said, helping the old man stand up.

"Tea, yes, yes that's right..." the butler murmured to himself, hand to his head. "It's been a while since you asked me for tea, sir."

"It's not for me." Bruce said, pulling the cowl back on. "It's for you. make yourself some tea and we'll patch you up. Take it easy tonight, wait for the shock to wear off."

Alfred looks at him, hesitating, but eventually nods. "We, sir?"

Bruce hums, fists at his side. "Yes. This case has escalated. It's time to request help."

He keeps his voice level as he walks away, but Alfred notes the way that he turns the corner, and the anger put into his stride.

When he gets to the cave he wastes no time, calling in everyone he can think of. His chest feels tight, breath short as his vision swims. Every signal he can send he does, the blurring in his eyes seeping into his mind too. He cradles his head in his hands, trying to calm it but to no avail. It's only when the ringing of the Batcomputer cuts through the fog that he is able to look up, shaking fingers hitting the accept call button.

"Batman?" comes the crackly voice of Nightwing, and the fog begins to clear slightly.

"Nightwing." he says back gruffly, voice hoarse.

"About time, you were making people pretty worried, you know." Dick chides, and there's the sound of yapping in the background. "What's the brief? What's happened?"

"Kidnapping." he says, voice thick. "Broke into the manor. Alfred is likely to be concussed, but it shouldn't be too serious. He's making tea, Robin is out on the other side of the city tonight. Red Robin is with you, isn't he?"

There's more shuffling on the other end before Dick responds. "Yeah, he's been helping in Bludhaven, he came last night."

"Bring him. Bring Oracle too. Everyone...come home." he murmurs, hands shaking as he tries to think clearly.

"Bruce, is everything okay with you?" Dick comes in, concern evident.

"Fine. I need people back immediately. Why?" he huffs back, rubbing the spots from his eyes with his fingers.

"Because we've all been trying to call you for the last few minutes. This is the first time you've picked up."

Bruce takes a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hadn’t realised how badly he had spaced out. "It's an emergency. They...they’re gone. They need to come home."

"The new kid?" Dick breathes. "Wait, you mean-"

Bruce nods even though he knows his eldest cannot see him. "Gone. Now come back and come back tonight." he ends the call before Dick can say anything else, and his tired eyes scan the monitor filled with a string of outgoing distress calls and an equally large number of missed ones. In his haze he had pressed every com line he had. He had pinged Jason, he had pinged Dick. Hell, he had even pinged the League and Clark, who hadn't even bothered to call for clarity, his response status just reading, 'On my way'.

He held his head in his hands, breaths laboured.

Bruce had held his own reservations when adopting you. He knew about the media uprising that it would cause, the rumours that were sure to fly. He had known what kind of mental state that would put you in, how it would angle you in a whole new world of cameras, but he couldn't help himself. He had seen you while in the suit, and maybe he had taken you in to make himself feel better. For not catching the person who had killed your parents, arriving too late. He had been training for this his entire life, it was his entire mission in Gotham, yet he couldn't stop the very crimes that had put him on this path.

If he had been faster maybe he could have saved your parents, disarming the man with the knife before it plunged into the chest of your father. Maybe he could have arrived faster so that he could have caught the offender that robbed your mother before giving her the same treatment and fleeing into the night. Instead, he was only there fast enough for him to hear you scream as your parents collapsed to the floor. He was there as you cried and shook them and tried to stop the blood spilling through your fingers, but you were unsure where to start. After all, how can someone make a decision between stopping the flow seeping from their father’s chest and the one from their mother’s throat?

He had been there to pull you away, was there to catch the last dying light of your father as he stroked your cheek before making eye contact with Bruce. "Look after my kid." he had whispered, something Bruce had nearly missed under all your screaming. Bruce pulled you away while he called for the GCPD, and from one father to another, he made sure to keep that promise.

Your relationship had been rough, clearly distraught at the way you lost your parents. You were older than he was when the same had happened, but you were still young. You had clung to Bruce the day he said he was going to take you in, and he had managed to soothe you with a soft hand up and down your back. Yet as the tabloids got worse and the gossip began to grow, you began pulling away from him and seeking the comfort of your room instead. He had done his best to protect you from the media, paying money to have articles removed and when that didn't work, he threatened to sue. It made the Gazette pull their head in a bit, but it still failed to be enough. Evidently, as there was now an empty bedroom on the third floor of the east wing.

All he could do was sigh and blink away the images of the children he had hurt, in the name of Robin or otherwise. He had to rub away the death of Jason that he reflected on in sombre moments when he thought no one was looking. He had gotten you into this mess, attached you with his name and all of its subsequent burdens. So, it was his duty to get you back and get you back safe.

Yet three days later, he had nothing.

The cave had been a buzz of activity for all three days, and Bruce, no, Batman, was acting close to a slave driver. Tim and Barbara hadn't left the caves computers in days, Damian and Steph constantly scouring the rooftops. Dick was concerned, hell, everyone was. Even the gruff Jason had been called in, and reluctantly he had answered.

"You find anything?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall with his younger brother. Jason was still suited up, coming back from the patrol around Bristol area. He removes the mask and shakes his hair free, sighing.

"Nothing. Areas come up empty. No sign of 'em."

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. "God, there's nothing on my end either. The Docks and all Southside of Gotham are clean, no traces. Any signs pointing to who it could be?"

Jason shrugs, helmet tucked under his arm. "No idea, as it stands, the kid's just gone missing. If Bruce isn't able to scrounge up a lead, I doubt I will. Not my forte. He should give Tim a break and send him out."

"Yeah, like he'll do that. He's got him tied to cave duty." Dick scoffs back. He feels bad, talking like your kidnapping was a causal affair. He didn't treat it like one, his heart stuttering when Bruce had called him in a haze and all shaken. It didn't a genius to see how attached Bruce had gotten to you in such a short amount of time, but sometimes Dick worried that Bruce was projecting his own trauma onto you. But still you were his younger sibling, a part of the family now. He had met you with a warm smile and a gentle hand the day that you moved in, coming in from Bludhaven to make the house a bit more lively while you got settled in. God, he knew what it was like moving in alone into that empty house, with only Bruce and Alfred to warm the halls. He had eaten dinner with you, took you out for walks in the garden when your grief allowed you move more than a few paces. He did his absolute best, and he knew that with time he could be a big brother to you.

Yet you hadn't been given the time, snatched away before Christmas even hit. He doubted you knew that Bruce was the Batman, or that the rest of the family had an interesting array of night lives.

Jason was the same in the way that he hadn't interacted with you much.

Honestly, he was awkward with kids, since the last kid of Bruce's he had met was the devil spawn who spat at him like an angry cat every chance he got. You were thankfully much older and easier to understand, but that still didn’t mean smooth sailing. Jason hated even coming back to the manor, and he and Bruce had been having one of their ongoing fights during the time he took you in, meaning he missed seeing you often. Yet he still talked to Dick (more so that Dick called him to make sure that he was okay) and the older man had seen you plenty. He felt like he knew you from Dick alone, but he wasn't oblivious to your story printed in the newspapers shoved under his apartment door. He pitied you, understood the grief that you must have been going through at the sudden violence that tossed your little world upside down. Sure, you had gone from luxury to luxury, but Gotham was unkind to everyone. it was the same violence that Jason strode to clean off the street, and his heart ached deep down that someone like you had managed to get caught in its claws.

"Do you think it could be the clown?" Dick asks quietly. "He'd do something as ballsy as this."

Jason tenses, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Not likely. That bastard likes to make a spectacle of things. No doubt he would have contacted the Bat the second he took the first victim or aired it like some twisted game show. It's not like him to lay quiet."

"So, it's someone else. It's unnatural for Gotham's villains to do something in the dark like this. I mean, it's been three days since they were abducted, and they're the fourth kidnap victim. There hasn't been a ransom note, a demand, a body. Not a peep for any of the captives. It's unnatural."

Jason hums in agreement, but they both jump as Bruce storms through grandfather clock entrance.

Everyone present turns, watching how Clark trails after him. Five sets of eyes watch the livid way the Bat cuts a path through the cave and gets into the batmobile, breaths too anxious to be released. Without a word the car screams out of the cave, and they all turn to Clark. Barbara casts a glance to Tim and then to Dick, who just shrugs, worry deepening on his face.

"What the hell's going on?" Jason growls, pushing off from the wall. Clark turns to face him, dressed in his Superman suit.

"We’ve found them." Clark says, face grim, and Dick shares a look with Jason. However, when Dick meets the eyes of Superman, he can see the flicker of worry in the Kryptonian. "Well let's get going then. Why did he leave alone?" Dick asked, slipping the domino mask back onto his face. Clark opens his mouth to speak but is cut off as Damian steps out behind his broad figure.

"Because it's the League." the younger boy says, green eyes boring in Dick's. "It's grandfather."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Bruce drove like his life depended on it, which wasn't fair when it was yours on the line instead. He could see the dots on his monitor indicating that the others were following him, and he had assumed that Clark had proceeded to fill them in. He had asked his old friend to look after the city while he sped towards the outskirts, just in case the League decided to do something while he had his guard on the city lowered. His com crackled to life, radio filling the otherwise silent car.

"Oi." snapped the voice of Red Hood, modulated and grainy. "Don't leave without telling us what's going on. Aren't you the one always spewing that 'feel-no-emotion' bullshit? To not let it cloud your judgement? Cause from the way I see it, you're acting kinda hazy."

"I trusted Clark would fill you in." he says back, voice tense. Red Hood scoffs.

"Yeah, and he did. You called us. You tell us what the hell you want us to help with, otherwise don't bother calling at all. Don't drag us out, get us invested then not let us help when it comes to it. What was your plan, beat the shit out of Ras and taken them back by yourself?"

Bruce falls silent, and there's a slight huff from Jason on the other end.

"Honestly? not the worst plan you've had, and I respect the enthusiasm, but you still should have looped us in. I want to get a hit in too."

Bruce turns his head to the direction of the radio, snapped from his concentration on the road momentarily and it's like Jason can feel his confusion through the commlink.

"Don't give me that silence." he groans. "They're family, aren't they? I'm not opposed to a younger sibling, you know." he huffs irritably. "But do me a favour and control Nightwing, hey? He's looking as coiled as you. You might have to fight him for the first hit."

Bruce doesn’t say anything before the comm cuts off, leaving him in the silence once more and eyes going straight back onto the red dot mapped onto his GPS. You.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

When you awoke the first time, you couldn’t feel anything. Your hands were tied to your ankles behind you, black cloth wrapped around your eyes. what you did know was that you were lying somewhere concrete, face pressed into the dusty cement. You knew that on the day that you woke and they had brough you were, that there were other people thrown in the same cell as you. You also knew that those other people were dead.

You had heard them scream, heard the way that they begged for their lives when they were dragged from the pen you were in. One a day, until you were left alone with no one to talk to. They had all been kidnapped like you, affluent people that you recognised the names and voices of. You had heard some of them at events you parents had hosted and attended, and when you traded names, they had remembered you immediately. You weren't dumb, you knew that you had all been taken here because you were rich. That was the only thing that you had in common with the heiresses and finance brokers that had shared the cells with you, huddled up against the cool metal.

Now the only thing left was you and the stickiness that crept under the bars of your cage, grateful that the blindfold was on so you didn't have to see what it was. At first you thought that you were alone, that your captors had left, but you knew better. You could sense them all around you, quiet and watching. They were like an uncomfortable prickling on your neck, the ghost of fingertips across your skin. Yet the hours and minutes had bled into days, and now you didn’t care if they were there or not.

You knew that they wanted to kill you. They had killed the rest. You had been given small amounts of food and water the first day or two, but today there had been none. Your mouth was dry as you lay on your side, lips cracking with the desire to drink. Your throat felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, and the silence that you were met with when you called out only made your panic and helplessness rise. You had lost the ability to cry, body sluggish. It felt like everything was shutting down, the pain in your stomach unbearable and tongue heavy in your mouth. As the heat crept in and pulled sweat from your unwilling skin, you began wishing that they would kill you.

You supposed that your wish was answered when the creak of your cell signalled one of your silent observers had come for you, and the tug on the ropes binding your limbs together made you lurch forward. You kept your face pressed down, too weak to struggle against them as they dragged you out and gripped your hair, making you shift onto your knees at an awkward angle. For the first time in days, you heard someone speak.

" So, this is Bruce's new...child." Your captor hummed. You could hear the way that their boots scuffed as they walked, coming to stand in front of you. You could faintly feel the swish of fabric, long and tickling the floor. "I wonder if he was planning to hand the title of Robin over so soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but your barely functioning brain fails to process what he's saying.

"Are you aware of your family's lineage?" comes the voice from above you, commanding and deep with a hint of something malicious in the undertone, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. “Your real family, the ones who claimed to practice a just and fair law. Not Wayne.”

You manage to shake your head weakly, grimacing as the image of your parents covered in blood flickered into your mind.

The voice above you tuts. "The sins of the father shall be bestowed upon the son," he recites softly. "And you are to pay the penance. Gotham will be purged, and the bloodlines of the corrupt shall be the first to burn, aware of their sins or not."

You don't even get a chance to ask what he's saying, the words sounding like biblical rambling. A scream is ripped through your throat instead as a sharp hot pain erupts through your shoulder, the sound of your own skin bubbling making you sick. You wail, body aching to thrash but the fatigue and weakness preventing you from doing such. The hands on your shoulders hold you still as the sensation is repeated across your body, stray tears leaking from your eyes despite your dehydrated state. It's only when you feel like you’re about to cross over, embrace the light spilling behind your eyes that you realise that the hands have left your body and that you're lying face down, discarded on the concrete floor.

You can feel the ache all over your body, a stinging and writhing pain that makes your whimper involuntarily. You can now make out that there is sound around you, echoing off the empty walls and causing your head to throb after days of silence.

For Bruce however, the world was silent despite being in the thick of the fight. They had pulled up the abandoned building on the edge of Gotham and Bludhaven, thankfully located by Clark and his x-ray vision after days of searching. He had stormed into the building with Dick, Jason, and Tim on his heels, his hands filled with a shake only the trained eye could determine as rage. The world had dripped into the pulsing cadence of his heartbeat as soon as he saw you, kneeling at Ra’s feet and being held by league assassins. He had hardly any time to process the way that you curled up and into yourself when you were dropped so carelessly, head thudding lifelessly against the floor. Forlorn, he eyed the way your body was covered with cuts and stabs, burns from the red-hot sword still held in the hands of a soldier. He hadn't known when the league had decided to dabble in torture, but Bruce felt like joining that night.

Jason and Tim were dealing with the assassins, the younger male finally freed from desk duty. He didn't know you as well as he would have liked considering that you lived under the same roof as him, but you had been warming up. He had really hoped that you could get along, but now he feared that this was going to push your back into the shell you had just started to crack, and that frustration was evident in the whistling of his bow staff as it cut through the air.

Dick had gone after Ra’s immediately while Batman raced for you, Dicks escrima sticks going for the head. Dick was fast and agile, muscles more tensed than usual as he sent well placed blow after blow. Yet Bruce wasn’t an idiot, he knew the limits of him and his team, and he knew the limits of Ra’s. That's why in what limited time that Dick bought for him he dropped to your side, slicing through your bonds with a batarang and letting your arms and legs fall free from their cramped position behind you. You groan lightly as he cradles you to his chest, weakly crying out as he justles the many wounds. He loosens the blindfold from your eyes, and your blink up at him a few seconds later, squinting against the light.

Your skin is sticky with blood both your own and not, flecked across the apple of your cheeks. He eyes the burns, the warped and rippled skin that blistered angrily and would surely get infected if not treated soon. He observes the many cages set up in the corner, the one he presumes was yours wide open and empty. He feels sick seeing the dead bodies in the other ones, imagining that it could have been you in there, dead like some caged animal for slaughter.

You make a weak whimper when he stands, and he has half a mind to join Nightwing in beating Ras so badly he'd need to use the pit again.

But he doesn’t.

He rises to his feet with you in his arms, and he calls for a retreat. You cry and moan as he hurries out, Jason and Tim covering your exit while Dick flips into the rafters and out of range of the Demon Head. He wants to fight; he wants to put them in their place for hurting his family. But the moment he had met your eyes again, it was like that day in the alleyway. You had seen him as Batman too that day, but as he laid you hurriedly in the back of the batmobile and patched Oracle in to prep the med bay, he knew that something was different from that night.

Because unlike the day you lost your parents, he had made it in time.

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pomefioredove · 8 months ago

Note

You know what would be sad? If you/Yuu breaks up with Vil (or vice versa) and then runs to Rook afterwards. I wonder if Vil is going to feel betrayed again? If you could do a little scenario for this, that’d be great!

this is such a good prompt, I love rebound scenarios omg. needed this today. and here comes rook with the steel chair!!!

summary: getting dumped by vil schoenheit type of post: long fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, established relationship, vil breaks up with reader, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda angsty, hahhhh, my god

"It's not personal. I just don't think it's fair to you," Vil says.

He doesn't fidget. Maintains perfect eye contact. He doesn't even try to act sorry, which, perhaps, is what stings the most.

He's supposed to be an actor, after all.

That's what this is all about.

"You must have always known this was a possibility," he says. "My schedule is getting busier, I simply don't... want to push you away."

Each word is spoken with a honeyed softness, as if he's trying to cushion the blows. It doesn't help.

Your heart thuds in your chest, your eyes burn. This is the worst thing you've ever experienced. You would take a thousand overblots over this. Any day.

What a bitter sentiment.

"You don't mean to push me away. What is this, then?"

A look of guilt finally crosses Vil's face, cracking the mask of professionalism he'd been hiding behind. It offers little comfort.

His brow furrows, and he sighs. "A preventative measure. It would hurt more if I'd waited,"

A million questions fly through your mind, faster than you can catch them. You want to shout, to tell him exactly how he's making you feel, to ask him who he thinks he is- but all you can manage is a stare.

He frowns, extending a hand as if to caress your face, but you turn on your heels and leave before he has the chance.

You wouldn't sit there and let him make a fool of you any longer.

You had become comfortable with the Pomefiore dorm in the past few months, but today, its elegance feels suffocating. The white and gold decor seems to mock you, every vase of perfect flowers laughing at your imperfection as you pass them by.

It hurts.

Stings, burns, makes you feel like you're drowning in a sea of perfume, choking on lilac and rose. Has the air here always been so sickeningly sweet?

There's still a lingering part of you that wants to run back to him, to beg, to negotiate, but you know he's right. You hate that he's right.

This... whatever it was... wouldn't last.

And you'd always known it.

---

How does one recover from being dumped by Vil Schoenheit?

Short answer: you can't.

You can wallow all you want, drowning yourself in the unhealthy foods he forbade you from eating, skipping the classes he'd so encouraged you to excel in, and using cheap tissues on your formerly-perfect skin, but that doesn't change a thing.

Perhaps if it hadn't been so public, you might have pulled yourself together sooner. But the very second all of your pictures were gone from his profile, everyone knew.

On some nights, you'd torture yourself by reading the thirsty comments from desperate fans under his latest posts, all of them pointing out his recent singleness. You would wonder to yourself if you had sounded that pathetic when you were dating Vil.

Just another hopeless, desperate fan, hoping for a piece of him.

People on campus avoided you. Not out of fear, but pity, a lack of knowing what to say. How do you even comfort someone after this?

It was like having an open wound on full display. No matter how you tried to bandage it, it kept bleeding through.

Even Grim was keeping his distance.

What little comfort came in the form of an anonymous knight in shining armor. Roses left at your doorstep, letters of love and encouragement on your assigned seats, little baskets full of your favorite foods and trinkets on your kitchen table...

You would have questioned it if you were not so consumed by your grief. At least the mystery offered a distraction.

"Another one," Ace comments, pulling a letter off your chair before you can sit on it. "Whoever this guy is, he's slick."

He hands you the letter, which you gracefully accept.

Deuce watches cautiously. "And you're sure it's not just... some kinda of prank, right? I've known my fair share of nasty types, this could be a trick."

"Too much effort," you shake your head. "I mean, whoever this is is spending a lot of time and money cheering me up. Not to mention... I've tried looking up some of these poems, and no matches. They're originals."

You wave around the letter in hand, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Though, I'm sure whoever's doing it is just being nice,"

"Nice. Right," Ace rolls his eyes. "Cause I know like, a million teenage boys who are just dying to write poetry for their friends."

Even Deuce snickers at that. You roll your eyes.

"Point taken. I guess I just can't believe that anyone would want me after..." you pause. There's no pleasant way to put it, so you let Ace and Deuce fill in the blanks.

"Hey, Vil is a jerk. He doesn't deserve you," Deuce says. "And trust me, if I ever catch him disrespecting you again-"

Ace scoffs. "Woah, there, tiger. Calm down. Vil could kick your ass and we all know it,"

"He really was something, wasn't he?" you sigh, slumping in your seat. Ace and Deuce give each other a panicked look.

"We didn't mean-"

"No, I get it," you say, reaching down to the floor in an attempt to touch your toes. Vil had told you that little exercises help calm the nerves. You hate how you still need his advice.

"Oh, hey, look," you sit back up, another pink envelope in hand. "Another one."

---

There's something about these gifts that doesn't sit right with you.

Each one is arranged to perfection, obviously crafted by a very thoughtful individual, just personal enough to suit your tastes but distant all the same.

It's almost as if the sender is holding something back.

But, not today.

You're greeted by a trail of rose petals leading up to Ramshackle's front door, which itself is ajar. Not uncommon, considering Grim's inability to take care of the makeshift dorm, but with the scent of roses and the candlelight inside, you know it's something more.

You walk in, setting your things aside, and continue following the path of petals into the kitchen, where a rickety wooden table has been set for two.

You, however, are the only one in the room.

"Hello?" you ask, turning in circles. The space is empty, save for a small letter on one of the chairs.

Beautiful,

A little bird told me you doubt the intentions of my admiration. I must amend that immediately, and I see no better way than to say it myself.

Yours truly.

"Trickster," a familiar voice comes from the doorway behind you, and you whirl around to face your admirer.

"Rook!" you gasp, clutching the letter to your chest.

He beams in response. "Oui, c'est moi. Though I was so enjoying the mystery, I feel it's time I made my intentions clear. Sit, please,"

You don't hesitate to follow his suggestion (the surprise left your knees feeling weak, anyway), and he joins you in the adjacent seat.

"But what-"

"Please," he says, holding a finger to your lips to shush you. "Let me start. I first want to say that I have meant every single word, in song and ink, that I have given to you. My heart is true."

Your mind is overflowing with questions, none of which he seems keen on answering in full just yet.

"I have spent the past several months allowing our Beautiful Vil to woo you. I have so enjoyed watching your love blossom from afar, despite my own feelings towards you. But things have changed," Rook says.

"For as much as I love him, this was his own doing. He has made a fatal mistake, one which cannot be undone- he has wounded you, mon amour, in a most vulnerable fashion. Months ago, when we both realized our feelings for you, I willingly stepped aside," he says. "I thought Vil would be the best option for you. I thought I was not ready to commit myself. Now I see what a mistake that was, and I hope you might find it within yourself to forgive me..."

You can only stare back. "Rook..."

"I cannot resent our Roi du Poison for his choice, for it's his to make. But he hurt you dearly, and in the process, he has relinquished his claim on you. I know your wound is still fresh. But, please, Mon Trickster, mon véritable amour, be mine?"

You're silent for a moment, processing every detail of what he said, what he's offering...

He's right. The wound Vil created is still open, and despite the weeks of "recovery", had yet to improve.

If you kept waiting for it to heal, perhaps it never would.

You nod. "Okay. Okay! But-! Let's take it slow, okay?"

Rook just barely manages to stop himself from leaping across the table to take your hands into his, and he reaffirms your request with a nod.

"Of course, mon cœur. What is a hunter if not patient?"

---

Pomefiore is beautiful again.

There are still times where you swear you can see Vil staring at the two of you, a look of discontent on his face, from across the room.

He doesn't utter a word about the way Rook has his arm over your shoulder, or the many terms of endearment he uses on you, though he doesn't have to. The lingering guilt and regret has made a home for itself in Vil Schoenheit.

You're sure Rook has noticed by now, too, although this isn't the first time he's pulled something like this on the housewarden without a second thought, and it likely won't be the last.

Perhaps it's for the better.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #rook hunt x reader #can't stop thinking of the logistics of this bc if rook and vil both liked the mc at the same time they would NEVER fight over it #rook would totally let vil go ahead and then either become vilyuu number one fan OR polycule OR be there to steal mc when vil fucks up #and alas polycule is probably the least likely because vil would Not Want to Share

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ramp-it-up · 3 months ago

Text

Knock You Down: II

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky has to answer some hard questions on date #2.

This is a follow up to Part I

Word count: 3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Part III will be posted on Sunday, 10/13. I think it will be the final part. 😓

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, daydreams of: oral sex (f receiving), marking, edging, & overstimulation. High potential for phone sex? Narrowly missed masturbation; a pet name in google translate Romanian; voice kink; drunk messaging/calling; Bucky has you under surveillance; AAAAngst. The heat is ramping up, but still no sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———-

Bucky woke with his lips tingling for want of you.

After your first date, sleep had been elusive. His thoughts of you led to a physical condition that he was used to taking care of right away, one way or another.

He decided that only you could solve his problem.

You had him as hard as a rock and Bucky knew that your soft curves were both the culprit and the cure

In his dreams, he had been eating you out, the smell in his nostrils a mix the your natural scent and perfume on your wrist as he went down on you. He couldn’t actually taste you, but he just knew that you were delicious.

Knowing that he would be distracted all day, Bucky tried other means to work out his frustration. He got up, worked out, and concentrated on not being a simp.

Unsuccessful.

At the stroke of 8 am Bucky sent you a good morning text and inquiring about your sleep. He hoped that your dreams were as full of him as his were of you.

Bucky chuckled as he pressed send. Good morning texts were not in his repertoire, quite the opposite. He was a pro in dodging follow up texts from his conquests.

After 10 minutes, he put his phone down, because he realized he was staring at it waiting for your response. In the shower, the stream of cold water was meant to calm the lava in his veins at the thought of you still asleep in bed. He needed to stop thinking of waking you up with his head between your legs because then his erection would never go down.

Back in his bedroom, Bucky saw that you had responded. His heart was in his throat at just the notification of not just a text, but an image sent on his screen. He had to sit down.

I had sweet dreams.

Image sent from Y/N

The image was a pic of you in your bed, hair tied back and no makeup. The morning sunlight on your skin was everything and the soft smile on your face looked so kissable.

It appeared that you were wearing a tank top. He could see your neck and the tiniest bit of cleavage, but it was enough to have him raging hard again.

The highly rational urge to mark you up as a punishment for torturing him came to him like a bolt of lightning.

God, the thought of punishing, maybe edging you all day, or better yet, having you beg him to stop making you cum as he overstimulated you sent his hand to his dick under the towel, but his other hand was reaching for your contact.

He groaned when he realized what he was doing. One hand had to stop. He wasn’t going to do this.

Bucky unhanded himself and sighed as your phone rang, then his stomach dropped as he realized you probably wouldn’t pick up.

“Hullo? James?”

Your morning voice. The fantasy of how to wake you up took hold again.

“G-,” Bucky cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much.

“Good morning Frumoasă.”

Damn, his voice. Yeah. You had a voice kink. You felt the urge to ask for a picture of him.

And you knew where that would lead.

The rest of your day depended upon not revealing how much of a slut you were for him already, so you decided to crack a joke.

“Fumosa? What does that mean? You calling me fugly or something?”

Bucky laughed, and the sexual tension was broken. You were so fucking charming. He was definitely feeling you.

Bucky wanted to do so much more than to just be physical with you; he wanted to just be with you.

“Far from it, Y/N. Frumoasă means beautiful in Romanian. Ești foarte frumoasă. You are so beautiful.”

You could hear his smile as he replied.

“Hmmmm. Well. Good morning to you too, James. And thank you.”

Bucky smiled at his bedroom wall, reclining on his unmade bed, not caring that he would be late for work. But he was the boss, so it didn’t really matter. He wanted to hear that moan-hum thing you did again, so he repeated himself.

“Ești foarte frumoasă.”

You were shook. When Bucky spoke in Romanian, his voice lowered an octave or two. It left you squirming.

You stifled another moan and Bucky shifted, his towel moving again.

This phone call was getting dangerous.

“James…”

His heart beat double time when you said his name, as if you were asking for so much more than just his attention. One word from you and he would would make you see stars over the phone.

Damn, he was hard as a rock.

“Yes?”

The way his voice broke over that one little word left you speechless, trying to make a wise choice of words. Now was not the time for phone sex, no matter how much you wanted his voice to talk you through it. This man had you caught up, but you were trying to chill.

“See you in a few days.”

Bucky smiled again. You were constantly changing the game, a Queen to his Knight. But he was determined to capture you.

“See you in a few days frumoasă. I can’t wait. Have a great day.”

—

After that, you two stayed away from phone calls, subsisting on texts and anticipation for the next four days.

But you couldn’t get away from thoughts of Bucky, especially since Nat showed up at your favorite coffee shop that morning. She claimed that she lived nearby while hinting that Bucky liked you a lot. You just smiled and tried to be enigmatic, not the blushing schoolgirl that you felt inside.

Hungry for more pictures of you, Bucky followed you on Instagram. You didn’t habitually reveal a lot of skin, but what he could see of you made him want more.

You noticed his follow, (accompanied by several gossip rags) and took note as you blocked them and made your page private. James Barnes gave no fucks who knew about you. You smiled all day long at that knowledge.

On Wednesday, he noticed that you posted girl’s night out, apparently to celebrate your friend Sydney’s engagement.

You looked good, skin glowing, body giving, and those brown leather pants making him dizzy just by staring at them through a screen. He knew he’d be feral if he saw them in person.

Bucky fantasized all evening about you coming home to him that night.

When Bucky liked the post your heart rate increased and you felt like you were in a race.

“I’m winning!”

You whooped it up with your friends and ordered another bottle. That’s when you saw Sam out of the corner of your eye. You invited him over for drinks, much to the delight of your friends.

Your drunk text to Bucky when you got home and the following exchange had him grinning as he went to sleep that night. Friday evening would be interesting indeed.

You woke up Thursday morning, wondering why you had a picture of a shirtless Bucky Barnes as the lock screen on your phone.

Your eyes almost fell out of your head as you opened your messages and saw this exchange:

Hey James. I want to fuck your voice. Especially when you speak Romanian. 🫠

But I can’t fuck until date number 3 sooooo

*Voice memo from James

*Voice memo to James

Image sent from James

Thank you Daddy. 💋

You are welcome, Frumoasă. 😏

You threw your phone.

You called him Daddy????

And you told him about the three date rule.

You were out of control.

You immediately sent him another message.

Good Morning, James. I apologize for last night. Please, burn your phone and destroy all messages from me. Have a nice life. 🫣

Good morning, Frumoasă. Last night was harmless fun. 😉 Have a wonderful day. See you tomorrow evening.

You grinned because although you were embarrassed, he was right. And also because he was a chaotic, but harmless gentleman. He just gave you what you asked for and didn’t take advantage of the situation. And his left arm tattoo sleeve was sexy as fuck.

What a man.

——-

When Steve and Sam caught him staring your picture during an auction that morning, Bucky just grinned as his best friends razzed him. He realized that you were worth it as he serenely endured them busting his balls.

Later that day Sydney sent you some very interesting articles about Bucky Barnes and his business and called to check up on you. Your heart sank as you assured her that you were okay and thanked her for being a friend.

There was a different vibe for you now; James Barnes might not be the perfect guy. But you tried not to overreact.

Everything that was posted online wasn’t necessarily true.

You decided to exercise to clear your head, but lo and behold, when you looked to your left at SoulCycle, there was Steve Rogers, Bucky’s best friend. You managed to dodge a conversation by rushing off to work.

You were looking forward to your date, because James Barnes had a lot of explaining to do.

—----

When Bucky picked you up on Friday, you opened the door and quickly retreated to get your coat and purse as soon as he entered.

“Hello James,” you said from across your living room.

Buck couldn’t put his finger on what shifted, but something had. He raised his eyebrow at you as you stood out of his reach and he felt the chill in the air.

“Hello, Frumoasă.”

He didn’t hide his admiration at your dress as he bit his bottom lip, positive that he could probably just flip up the hem and slip his… Bucky forced his eyes back to yours.

Damn, he looked good in the brown suit and black crew neck shirt. His eyes were everything on those colors. You noticed him checking you out and you looked down at your mustard dress.

“I hope this is okay. I wore this to work. Got out a little later than I expected. Billie, my assistant, and I were setting up for the opening tomorrow.”

Bucky smiled.

“You look amazing. And I can’t wait to see the exhibit.”

You cleared your throat.

“About that. Are you sure you want to come?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you.

“...Yes. We agreed when I conceded to your price on Monday. What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing, we’ll talk about it later. Are you ready to go?”

Bucky let you have whatever space you were needing at the moment.

“Lead the way.”

You chose the venue of this second date, a Harlem Renaissance exhibit in the eponymous borough. Bucky remained the perfect gentleman, taking your hand as he helped you into the car, but keeping his distance as you rode uptown.

If it were not for his all consuming stares and the desire in his eyes, you would think he wasn’t attracted to you. But you couldn’t let your libido have you make a terrible decision. You were deep in thought the entire ride to Harlem.

—---

You were in awe of the exhibit as much Bucky was in awe of you. You caught him admiring you instead of the art more than once, but you just smiled and launched into a conversation about the pieces, discussing the merits of the exhibit.

“That’s very astute. So good. Beautiful and smart.”

Bucky’s proximity to you during your banter was not helping your resolve. His voice in your ear cooing praises was making you weak. But you had to be strong. When he took your hand again as you walked to dinner on Frederick Douglass Boulevard, the thousand butterflies which had taken residence in your stomach on Monday afternoon fluttered their wings.

Damn. He had you down bad.

After you were seated, Bucky tried to break down the wall that you’d seemed to throw up between you.

“Alright, Frumoasă. Tell me. What is going on in that beautiful brain of yours? You’ve been in your head all night.”

You looked around, trying to avoid those perceptive blue eyes of his, and noticed that the rooftop terrace seemed to be deserted except for the two of you. You had been so caught up in your inner turmoil that you hadn’t noticed the surroundings.

“James…”

He was staring at you again, mouth open, and that tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yes, Frumoasă…”

“Did.. did you reserve this rooftop just for us?”

Bucky smiled and leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. He took a sip of wine before he answered.

“I may have called in a favor of the owner.”

“It’s Friday night! That is quite the feat.”

“Someone as striking as you deserves to be surrounded by beauty. Always.”

You shook your head at him.

“I’m serious James. I’m not your type. We come from two different worlds. You can have anyone you’d want. What would you want with me?”

Bucky sobered up, sensing your anxiety. He moved his chair closer to yours.

“I never make a promise that I can’t keep. And I don’t string women along. I try to make sure that everyone knows what it is with every encounter. Most women know that what happens is a one time thing.”

He stared at you with the ocean depths that were his eyes.

“And I hope you understand that you are not most women. Remember what I said Monday night?”

You nodded, remembering the rush of feelings and wild thoughts.

“That was the first of many dates. I haven’t been on a second date in… I honestly don’t know how long.”

You digested what he was saying, really wanting to like him, and more. But you had to clear the elephant from the room.

“Speaking of honesty. What do you really do for a living, James?”

Bucky looked at you strangely.

“What do you mean? I-”

“James. You have one chance to tell me the truth.”

Bucky digested the look on your face; he knew you were serious.

“It seems that you have read some things. Or someone has said something to you.”

You shrugged and said, “Both.”

You were anxious and relieved that he didn’t insist on the lie.

“Okay. Then.”

He sighed and looked at you carefully with those eyes, giving you a minute. After he told you the truth, there would be no going back.

“I’ll give you the cliff notes version:

When we moved to America when I was 10, my dad Jimmy fell into the family business, which was crime. He always expected me to take it over, training me from a young kid. Steve and I grew up together. Nat and Sam came along later. I dove in deep as soon as I was old enough and brought them with me, thinking that's what I wanted."

Bucky shook his head at his own miscalculation.

"It took five years to realize that it was no way to live. When my father died seven years ago, I could finally see a way out. I started the art business because it really is what I love, and I can divest myself of any connection to illegality be completely legitimate in a little over three more years.”

You sat back and crossed your arms. His explanation was too neat and tidy.

“You have a timeline to be done with crime?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but yes. I had a ten year and a five year plan. I’m working the plan with the help of my friends. And I’m doing it for them as much as for me. And if I'm thinking about a future with someone...."

Bucky reached over and took your hand as he stared at you.

"I'd be doing it for my own family as well."

You wanted to melt, but remained strong, pulling your hand from his.

“So you’re saying you aren’t a dangerous man? That I won’t be putting my reputation, my employment, and my life on the line by dating you?”

Bucky sat back as you posed your questions. He had never had to consider them before. He had never ‘dated’ anyone before. He just got what he wanted and they were safe because he never saw them again.

But now that what he wanted was you, and for far more than a one night stand, he was terrified.

“Y/N. I told you. I won’t lie to you. Yes. I am still a dangerous man. And yes, being associated with me can be dangerous. But I want you, Frumoasă. And I will stop at nothing to protect you."

You saw the ferocity of his emotions and you thought of all of them these past few days.

“Nat, Sam, and Steve. Those weren’t coincidences. Were they?”

Bucky gave you a wry smile and dropped his gaze. His voice got soft, as if he were chastened.

“No. They weren’t coincidences.”

Suddenly, you felt stifled, that there was no air avaiable. Even though you were outside.

“I- I need to think. I want to go home.”

“Come. I’ll take you.”

You rose and stepped away from Bucky.

“No. I need some space. I‘ll call a rideshare…”

“Nonsense. Nico is outside. He will take you. I can call Steve to pick me up.”

You looked up into Bucky's sad eyes.

“O-Okay.”

You fought the urge to bury yourself in his arms, and in a few minutes, Bucky put you in the car and you were rolling toward Brooklyn before you realized it.

——-

It wasn’t until you were in your tank top and sweats on your couch having made your head hurt with all of the thoughts for an hour, when you realized you never ate dinner and were starving.

You sighed and picked up your phone.

In just about another hour, your favorite takeout was on its way, comfort for a tumultuous evening. When you answered your door, your stomach flipped at the delivery person clad in white t-shirt, grey sweats, and a backwards ball cap.

You smiled at Bucky.

He grinned back.

“So. Is this date number three, orrrrr?…”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“You can drop the food off in my kitchen. This way, James.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, the heat in your gaze unmistakable.

Bucky smiled and thanked the heavens as he followed the sway of your hips into your home.

——-

Please let me know if you like it! 😊

Next part here.

#ramp-it-up falloween 24 #falloween #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #seb stan #sebastian stan #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #art dealer!Bucky Barnes #mob boss!bucky Barnes #Art dealer! Bucky Barnes #mob boss! Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut

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ch6sos · 8 months ago

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more nanami headcanons (but as your bf !!!)

a/n: hey everyone! thank you for all the support on my last headcanon post. i never really expected it to go far, but somehow it did. it was my first time ever posting a "fic" you know? i was cringing the entire time but it was worth it, for you guys :) since it did well, here is some more!

i used third person by the way so you're referred to as his partner. tried to make this as gender neutral as possible cuz i love you guys

cw: slight suggestiveness (ooooh... but it's not extreme you sillies)

Extreme gentleman. He respects their wishes all the time. If they want space, he will give it to them. He will give them whatever they ask for.

Pays on the first date. He forbids their significant other from doing anything. He will pay because he wants to. He truly wants to, not because he feels obligated to.

Would be kind of shy about doing anything at first, especially Teen!Nanami. Even after a long period of dating, he would always ask before showing affection because he does not know if they feel comfortable or okay with it.

"May I please hold your hand? Are you okay with that?

"...We've been dating for a month."

"I know, but, I must ask, you know? In case it makes you uncomfortable.”

When he (as well as they) grow comfortable, the affection begins to become more "intense." Not intense, but he does it more frequently. He holds their hand more, gives more kisses, more hugs...

He would give the best hugs. He is a cuddle machine. He appears to hate them, but does he truly? Exactly. No, he does not. He loves them so much. He wishes he could give up his job to spend the entire day cuddling with his partner.

"Stay close to me, please."

"I don't plan on moving."

"Good. I wish life were like this every day." He hums, squeezing them gently.

Kisses with him are never short; even if he is late. He never leaves his significant other hanging. He craves and desires to kiss them. He enjoys giving his partner a passionate kiss, drawing them near to his chest, and placing his hand behind their head, leaving a memory of the kiss that is warm, tender, and unforgettable.

Genuinely feels like he could share his emotions with his significant other. Yeah, he is still serious, because it's who he is. He was raised in a family surrounded by serious people. Though, throughout the relationship, he learns how to express his emotions better. He feels like he genuinely could reveal all the emotions he has stored in him already around his significant other. If he's feeling upset, he would genuinely express that to them. If something ticked him off, he would sit down and talk to his partner about it.

Despite all of that, he still is more of a listener than a rambler. He prefers putting others first before him, and that also goes for who gets to talk. He enjoys looking at their partner with a loving gaze, as they talk nonsense. Whether it is about the new show they picked up, their day, or the latest gossip, he loves listening.

He would write love letters. I do not care if you find that corny. He is corny. He will write love letters. Nanami is romantic. I don't care what anyone says he is a romance god who does not get to show it off as much. He loves writing lengthy letters, showing the love he has for his partner. Describes their personality and how much he cherishes them, how much he thinks they're beautiful, and how he thinks that they are the stars in the night sky that stand out.

Playing with his partner's hair is (one of) his favorite ways to show affection. If they have long hair, he loves to try styling it and ruffling it. If they have type 4 coily hair, he starts learning how to take care of it so he can try protective hairstyles on them.

Another thing is lazy Sundays. He loves Sundays. Even though he has to go to stupid work the next day. The sensation of them being in his arms when he wakes up, his arms encircling their bodies firmly, the sheets covering them. He enjoys gently leaning in to kiss their shoulders, the top of their head, and the back of their neck. When they began to stir, he pulled them closer— not wanting to get out of bed. All he wants is to spend Sunday morning in bed with his lovely partner.

Gets flushed at compliments, but it is not as obvious. When their significant other says he is handsome, he smiles softly and thanks them, but on the inside, he is freaking out.

Cooks breakfast in bed for them. Always. He loves getting up just to make his significant other the tastiest breakfast ever; it is his specialty. He prepares a warm beverage and some fruit-flavored crepes topped with Nutella and whipped cream.

Before meeting them, Nanami was kind of an insomniac. He would not sleep; hence why he has dark circles. But after meeting them, he started sleeping more. Despite everything, he continues to get up before his partner to prepare breakfast for them.

Not only that but when he was stressed, he would drink his sorrows away rather than confide in someone. Since the fan book claims that he enjoys drinking, I think that, unfortunately, one of his coping mechanisms is doing exactly that. However, since meeting them, he has kept everything under control. He learned to express himself more freely and genuinely strives to avoid suppressing his emotions.

Bro is a simp. His mouth drops when he sees his partner dressed. His jaw falls to the floor. He is stuttering a bit too. I know he is supposed to be calm and collected but he would NOT be calm and collected around his significant other, people. He would go feral and be a simp for them.

He says I love you first. It was quite unexpected and seemed to come out of nowhere. He just blurted it out without waiting for the perfect moment or anything else. It was probably a simple morning, cuddling with him on the bed as usual, looking at each other fondly, and he said, "You know how much I adore you, right?"

When he realizes what he is saying, his eyes widen slightly, but then crinkle up when they tell him they love him as well.

He will do whatever his partner says. They could be 5'2 or around his height; he is a certified simp who immediately attends to their partner's needs.

Even if that includes forcibly doing silly TikTok trends. He pretends to hate it but he doesn't. He is a munch or whatever Ice Spice said.

He enjoys nuzzling his partner. Guys, I do not care. This man is a bundle of love wrapped up in a stoic-looking man. He enjoys sneaking up behind them, entrapping them in his arms, and nuzzling their neck and the top of their head. Wherever he wants, whenever he wants. And he utters sweet nothings. And leaves tiny, delicate kisses. He also wraps his arms around their waist.

He sometimes becomes overwhelmed, so he requires his own space. However, he does not simply distance himself from his partner. He properly expresses that sometimes he needs his own space. He still adores them but also needs some space. He does not want to cause conflict or misunderstanding because he is not that type of person.

Will be there for them when they are sick, even if they believe they look disgusting. He does not care; he believes they are the most beautiful sight he has ever seen in his entire life (which was cut short) (sorry, I am still coping). He will be there to care for them whether they are throwing up, crying, or whatever.

He cooks for them, he gives them medicine, he cuddles them even though he knows he may get sick...

And he does. Every single time. And he acts like a baby too.

Adorable tall, strong man Nanami acts like a baby when he's sick. He needs to be looked after completely. He starts off coughing (like a grandfather or a father). So his cough is obnoxious and loud, and he frowns. He then looks up at his partner, his expression reminiscent of a puppy who has been denied treats. It is an adorable sight. It's a turnaround from his usual chill demeanor. He then spends the entire day in bed, despite his attempts to do his routine tasks like cleaning and cooking for them, which they forbid. And he pouts about it like a big baby.

"Please let me take care of you. You took care of me, so now it's my turn."

"No, you're sick, Kento."

"That doesn't matter." He frowns.

“You always take care of me anyway.”

“But it is my honor to take care of you, my love.”

and then they end up having seven mental breakdowns

If they bring home a stray one day, he is reluctant on taking it but you know damn well he'd be like one of those dads that is hesitant about taking it at first but then ends up cuddling it the next day and then begging for them to not take it to the shelter.

Genuine sweetheart. Holds the door for their significant other, makes arrangements for them when they can not find the time, prepares meals for them, and if they come from a different culture, he starts to learn about it, particularly if they are involved in it.

...This guy is in no way aggressive. I have seen people mischaracterize him as a dominant "daddy" or whatever because he is serious, and Mappa blessed us with the hair-pulling scene. That scene was primarily caused by rage at Haruta's thoughtless harm to those around him and the fact that the man was going against two young girls. He would never act in such a way toward their partner, particularly when they were in bed. He is more of a gentle lover and is afraid of going too far.

Needs are needs, so if they ask, he will comply with some hesitation. He never seemed to get into it, so he tells them that.

That does not mean he is not into some stuff. Bro be praising. He praises hella and talks them through it.

"My love, doing so well for me."

"So beautiful, so gorgeous, all sprawled out for me like this."

“You’re mine. Until the end of time, angel.”

“God. My love, my everything. You drive me wild, you know that?”

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Want to see how breathtaking you are from here.” All in his deep, ragged and needy voice.

that made me cringe

help I'm crying at the cringe so sorry

His favorite dates with them involve going to a restaurant. Nanami knows some hidden gems, so he enjoys taking them to restaurants where they can eat delicious food. Being a food enthusiast, it goes without saying that he is aware of the good and bad places to go. Because of Nanami's exquisite taste, they have never had to worry about their food.

As I previously stated, he prefers traditional nicknames such as sweetheart, my love, darling, angel, and beloved. I do not see him calling his significant other "baby," "baby girl," or whatever; I believe he finds it cringe-worthy. This is self-indulgent oops.

Sings softly to them while they are sleeping. He sings a song while they are sleeping because he is too ashamed of his singing. His vocals are not bad; he is just shy. (Little did he know, they had several recordings of him singing in secret...)

He will sacrifice his blanket in bed just to wrap it around his partner if they're cold. Bro would give them 90004868787893 pillows, and 8 blankets if they said they were cold.

He exaggerates things. And when I say he exaggerates, I mean he goes to great lengths to win his partner over. If they enter a new niche, he buys *everything*. On date nights, he gives them large bouquets if they like that, and he treats them as if they were royalty.

"You didn't need to get me this entire figure collection from *series*... I feel so bad."

"Well, do not worry, I enjoy buying these things for you. I see how happy you are, and it immediately warms my heart.”

Arguments with him are not bad. He truly never gets upset to the point of yelling because that is not who he is—he is not a guy who yells and he does not want to cause trauma to people in general. Again, though, he seems composed, and it might be frightening. But he then does something right away that causes his partner to instantly give in. Bro could just breathe and they're like "OKAY" and yeah. I understand. I would fold so hard bro.

His love languages include quality time and acts of service. He loves spending every single second with his partner and is immediately angry at the world when he has to work overtime and can not have more time with them. He enjoys taking them on dates or simply staying at home on lazy days. He loves spending time with them. Furthermore, he expresses his love by doing things for his partner, such as assisting them with their work (if he could), giving them massages when they are stressed, cooking for them all the time, washing their dishes even when they beg him not to, eating the olives off of their plate if there are any... He is the king of acts of service.

He is not good at taking pictures. His large thumb keeps covering the lens, so they have to force him to take the pictures repeatedly. Despite this, he never becomes irritated because he gets butterflies just watching his partner pose in their gorgeous clothes.

Speaking of photos, he already had an Instagram account beforehand. (As much as he hates to admit it, Gojo is sometimes the one who takes the aesthetic photos on his page.) He was not active, but he has a few posts on it, but as soon as they got a partner, oh lord Jesus. Bro will post on his Instagram story every single second.

Even though this happens, he prefers to make his relationship private. Private but known, you know? He wants the world to know that he is lucky enough to date them, but still not reveal information or talk about his relationship to anyone. So he would take those private but not secret type relationship photos.

Captions are always complimenting them and are extremely poetic. He's just that guy.

"saw a breathtaking sight. the beach is also there."

“every aspect of you captivates me, body and soul.”

"we are all floating around with the stars and the universe, and it somehow led me to you."

cringes again

Off-topic but not, Nanami would NEVER, and I mean... NEVER, go for his student if he was a professor, even if their relationship is legal. I can't stand it when people do that. He understands that there's a power dynamic behind it and it's low-key creepy how much people enjoy it.

Along with stepcest. Why do so many of you like stepcest? Nanami is not touching any of his family members. I'm scared to say this and this is probably hella controversial for this app but he's not touching anyone even if they're not technically related.

Age gap too. He would not date someone extremely younger than him. He is not going to be 40 and dating a 19-year-old. I just can't see it.

Other than that, he does not have any preferences when it comes to appearance. He has turn-offs, but not in terms of appearance. He could care less about what someone looks like.

In terms of personality, he dislikes negative people. He despises that. He would feel guilty if he became involved with someone unconcerned about the world. He also dislikes immaturity and pettiness.

He prefers people who bring positivity into his life, you know? Someone much more outgoing than he is, but still a mature person with whom he could relate. The more extroverted they are the more they bring out of him. As long as they're not so overwhelming to him.

Even so, he simply enjoys people for their kindness and consideration. How willing they are, how passionate and motivated they are. He simply wants someone who is driven by their goals.

Texts them dad memes he found on Facebook.

“Look at it, it’s funny.”

“...lol”

“You laughed at least a little bit right?

“...No?”

“Okay. I apologize :(“

LAUGH AT HIS FACEBOOK MEMES PLEASE. THEY ARE NOT THAT BAD PLEASE.

When he met their family, he appeared calm and collected, but he was nervous. He was fidgety on the way to their house, something he had only ever done in high school. He experiences anxiety about whether he would be accepted by them or whether he would be good enough.

“Wow, I have never seen you this fidgety before.”

"I apologize. It’s just… What your family might think worries me. I am not sure if I will meet their expectations. I simply want to let them know how much I genuinely adore you for who you are and how much I want to be yours forever."

And they are like ??? because this man is perfect? He is the dream man anyone could ever ask for.

Do not take this man mini golfing bro he sucks ass… I know you guys think just because he is partly white he will immediately be good at golf but no. He sucks ass.

He would be protective, but not excessively so. He is devoted to his partner and will intervene quickly if someone upsets them, intimidating them with his composed demeanor.

"I advise you to distance yourself from them before I regretfully have to take action, okay? We wouldn’t want that, right?” Dumbledore says, calmly. While puffing out his chest. And mewing. And mogging. Whatever that means.

Okay fine, he will watch Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, Love & Hip-Hop, etc with them. Pretends to hate it but he is invested.

Imagine just going to the bedroom and just seeing him in his reading glasses, sitting up against the headboard, immersed in the book in front of him. The only thing he has on is a simple white tee that does justice to his figure and pajama pants.

Yup feral.

Tries to get into the things their partner likes just so he can understand when they yap about certain things. He just wants them to talk about everything to him. He finds it adorable.

Allows their partner to give him a skincare treatment. He then begins to do it himself. Well, he would only use one product—a cleanser. That being said, he started using toner, serum, and other skincare products. And, yes, he allows them to put ridiculously cute facemasks on his face. And the cute little star pimple patches.

Do not take that man ice skating or rollerblading either. He would be so hesitant on going because he sucks at it. He just goes because his significant other told him to. He fell immediately.

“This sucks.”

“Stop sulking and hold my hand.”

“...You don’t even need to ask.” He says, all giddy.

Please show him the love and care he deserves.

When he works out he will flex on them on purpose. He thinks it is all funny to be all yummy. It is NOT funny.

Yup, he does push-ups while they’re underneath, each time he goes down he gives them a peck.

Yeah so imagine that with him in his compression shirt and shorts…

I could read your mind, people. You are not slick.

This man will not let his significant other have insecurities. He is the type to leave notes all over the bathroom, and every mirror, with encouraging words. Praising their looks and more. Plus he shows in…other ways (wink) how much he appreciates how beautiful he thinks they are.

If they are unhappy, he will truly be devastated. He is miserable when he sees them upset, so he does everything in his power to cheer them up. Whether that’s cooking something for them, taking care of them, trying to make them laugh, getting them something from the store, or sitting down and talking to them about their problems, he needs to make them feel happy.

When he drives, he would not put his hand on his partner’s thigh. He would much rather grab their hand, and put it on his lap, as he listens to them hum along to the radio. He purposely moves the mirror slightly toward them, just so he can see how pretty they are through the mirror. He also looks at them with a slight smile at every stop-light, occasionally leaving small pecks on their face.

Does not mind if they steal his clothes. Go on then silly. He could care less. He thinks it’s cute as hell.

Would teach them how to do things. For example, he will teach them to play an instrument if they do not already, especially if he knows how. He looks like a lovesick fool as he watches them replicate what he did. Unable to resist the urge, he kisses them without reason.

“What was that for?”

"I could not hold back. You are very tempting."

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. You are everything I think about and want."

Butterflies all around people.

His only red flag is that sometimes he may prioritize work over his relationship. He unfortunately gets into the stress of work and begins to grind more at work. Call him out and he gets back into his senses.

Buys more storage space for his Samsung S24 Ultra to retrieve more pictures of them. His camera roll is nearly full. Just because of his significant other, his camera roll increased from roughly 150 images to over 13,000 images.

When he comes home from work, he immediately collapses on the couch or their shared bed, on top of them. He then looks like a sleepy puppy.

“Someone’s tired.”

“I hate overtime.”

“I know you do. I cooked something for you.”

“I could have just cooked for the both of us…”

“But I knew you’d come all tired from work. So no.”

“That doesn't matter, you know? I love taking care of you. Just to see that pretty smile on your face.” He pouts, once again.

He ends up making it up to them. You can interpret that however you want.

As soon as this man sees them in formal attire (or in general) it is OVER. His jaw is on the bottom of the earth, his eyes are slightly widened, a blush on his face.

“I have no words. God, I don't know how someone could get even more impossibly perfect, yet here you are, darling. No matter how many times I see you, you still manage to take my breath away.”

yup heart attack

Prepare for so many compliments daily. He talks like a true romance book. None of that Colleen Hoover stuff.

Talks about his partner like a true gentleman. He's not like those types of guys who just talk about their significant other as if they're his property. No. He talks about them as if they are an art piece.

Overall, he just loves his partner so, so much. He expresses it in a variety of ways, from taking care of them—to telling them every single second of the day. In his own words,

"Your presence in my life is like a breath of fresh air, keeping my heart full and content. I love you more than anyone could ever fathom, and I promise you, you have my heart for eternity."

i love him </3 NANMINPLEAEE BE RELALRHABADHDJSKDHSNEB

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hannyoontify · 3 months ago

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casual - yoon jeonghan

member | childhood best friend!jeonghan x fem!oc

genre | fluff, angst and angst and lots of angst, childhood best friends to ???

word count | 12k

synopsis | throughout her childhood, jeonghan was the one constant in jeong-ah's life. he was her rock and she was his. but there was always an unspoken tension between the two, something that made jeong-ah's stomach flutter and her pulse race. was it casual, like jeonghan said? or was there a possibility of it being something more?

warnings | kissing, a bit of cursing, oc is insecure abt her freckles, jeonghan and oc are both lowk products of the ultimate asian immigrant ‘tiger-mom’ parenting stereotype, jeonghan smokes half a cigarette

playlist | i also ended up making a playlist for this fic too bc i was so into it so here!

notes | inspired by this post from a while back AND I KNOW. PEOPLE HATE OC’S BUT PLEASE. js hear me out for this one. pls. also a huge huge hugeeeeee thank you to the literal freaking best @fairyhaos for beta-ing this long ass fic. you’re seriously the best ilysm!! and last but not least, happy birthday jeonghan!! thank you for always bringing a smile to our faces and gracing us with your love and presence.

Was it casual when you called my biggest insecurity beautiful stars?

“Shhh,” Jeonghan pressed his finger against his lips, stopping me from reading my paragraph aloud. “I think we won. Everyone else fell asleep.”

I looked up from The Last Olympian, the latest book of the Percy Jackson series that we were reading together, to see what he was talking about. All of our younger siblings were asleep in a messy pile of tangled blankets, pillows, and limbs on the floor next to the bed Jeonghan and I were currently lying in.

“We win the bet every year. Should we make them do the dishes this year?” I whispered. Jeonghan opened his mouth to say something when we both heard footsteps in the hallway outside. We frantically scrambled for the blanket and hurriedly tugged it over our heads, just in time as a parent opened the door to Jeonghan’s bedroom.

“They’re asleep.”

“As they should be,” another voice chimed in. “They’re still kids, pulling an all-nighter isn’t good for them.”

I couldn’t hear the first parent’s response as they closed the door and retreated back downstairs. Jeonghan poked me in the rib to grab my attention and once I was looking at him, he wiggled his brows, which I immediately took as a bad sign. He reached behind and pulled out a flashlight, shining it directly into my eyes.

I suppressed a yell and raised my arm to smack him. “Don’t-” Smack. “Do that.” Slap.

Jeonghan laughed and grabbed the side of his arm where I had hit him, jutting his bottom lip out into a faux pout. “I’m sorry, Jeong-ah. Will you forgive me?”

“No.”

“Even if I let you read the rest of this chapter?”

I paused to think about it. “... Okay, fine.”

With that, I grabbed the novel and flipped through until I found the page we last left off on. Jeonghan dimmed the flashlight to its lowest setting and aimed it towards the book as I began to read aloud in a quiet voice about Percy taking a swim in the River Styx.

We were lying on our stomachs with Jeonghan’s blanket over our heads as we delved further and further into the realm of Greek gods and goddesses. Every once in a while, one of us would shift and move around to try and get in a comfortable position. Eventually, we found a position we were comfortable with–our legs on top of one another and Jeonghan’s head resting on my forearm as I read aloud.

Thank God the chapter I was reading was a longer chapter. I didn’t like it when Jeonghan read out loud–not necessarily because he was bad, he really was good and read at a good pace–but because he liked to do this thing where he had these ridiculous voices set for all the different characters and he would overdramatize everything. I didn’t know how he remembered which voice belonged to which character, but it was funny and it never failed to make me laugh(or lose concentration).

Eventually, I had to shake Jeonghan off my arm because I was slowly starting to lose feeling in my hand. “Hannie, your big, fat head is about to get my right hand amputated.”

“Ouch, that was a bit too harsh, don’t you think?” Despite acting offended, Jeonghan immediately lifted his head off of my arm, which I appreciated, and lay back down on a pillow right next to my arm.

“Sorry, but the truth hurts.” I smiled and got back to reading.

Jeonghan kept his eyes trained on my face as I continued to read about how Percy was barely able to survive an attack from Ethan Nakamura, at the cost of Annabeth’s well-being. Jeonghan’s tendency to stare at me wasn’t new, and at this point, I was pretty used to it. Most often than not, he wasn’t even staring–he was just spacing out, thinking about something I’d never be able to comprehend, like quantum physics or something.

Once I reached the end of the chapter, I looked over at Jeonghan, who was now fixated on the back of my hand. “Hannie, did you even hear anything I just read?”

“Uh-huh. River Styx. Curse of Achilles. Morpheus and Hecate. Ethan Nakamura.” Jeonghan responded in a soft voice.

“Are you-”

“Jeong-ah, I’m too tired to read. Can we just lie here?”

“... Okay.” I put the book down and shifted onto my back but Jeonghan stayed on his side, facing me.

I peeked outside the blanket. It was nearly midnight and the night sky was so clear I could nearly see every crater on the moon’s surface. A navy to black gradient night sky was the perfect backdrop for the full moon tonight. The bright, yellow glow from the moon provided enough light in the room for me to recognize all the silhouettes on the floor. I heard a small snore from the pile and smiled.

Retreating back under the blanket, I discreetly snuggled into Jeonghan’s side. Our only source of light was the flashlight, which was shining above our heads.

Jeonghan reached for my hand and I let him as he began lightly tracing indiscernible patterns onto the back of my hand. This went on for a while until I couldn’t ignore the tingling sensation anymore and I giggled at the feeling.

“Hannie, it tickles. What are you doing?”

“You have freckles?”

Oh, he was talking about the tiny freckles I had on the back of my hands. They had been there for as long as I could remember and it had always been an insecurity of mine. I remembered, when I was younger, my dad used to gently hit the back of my hands every night as a way of getting rid of those “damned” freckles. I hated it.

Because of society’s beauty standards, I learned to be ashamed of my freckles as I grew older. The longer I had my freckles, the more I grew to hate them. My mother always told me that it was because I didn’t apply enough sunscreen before going out and I was thankful for the wintertime because my freckles were less visible in the sun than they were in the summer and I learned to hide them from the sun as much as possible.

So I was surprised that Jeonghan had even noticed the freckles in the first place, especially because it was December and my skin hadn’t seen the light of the sun for a couple of days now, thanks to the rainy weather.

“Um, yeah. I’ve had them since I was young,” I pulled my hand away and stuck it behind my back. “Ignore it, they won’t disappear no matter what I try.”

“No, Jeong-ah, they’re beautiful.”

“What?”

“They’re beautiful.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Why?”

Jeonghan laughed in what seemed to be frustration. “Jeong-ah, those freckles signify you. Your experiences and your growth, why are you embarrassed of them?”

“I don’t know. I was always told they were ugly and something to be ashamed of.”

“Jeong-ah, this just might be my most favorite part of you.”

“Really? Not my hilarious, sexy, bodacious humor?”

“What the fuck does bodacious mean? Regardless, yes.”

“But they’re like… little moles?”

“So? I have moles.”

“But it’s like a whole bunch of them in the same area and it’s gross.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Then what is it?”

Jeonghan grabbed my hands and stared at the tens of freckles that were distributed along the backs of my hands. I hated them.

“They’re… beautiful, glowing, tiny stars.”

“... What?”

“Beautiful, glowing, tiny stars sprinkled across a wide expanse of a night sky that is you.”

A pause.

“Are you sure you’re a sixth grader because that was deeply poetic, Hannie.”

“You make me a poet.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, was that weird?”

Not at all, I thought to myself. My heart had begun to beat erratically and I was pretty sure I knew why.

“No… I like it.”

“Good. But-” Jeonghan suddenly let go of my hands so he could reach above his head and stretch. “I’m getting tired, JeongJeong. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Okay. Good night, Jeonghan.”

“Good night, Jeong-ah.”

That night, I fell asleep with my head pressed against Jeonghan’s side as his fingers gently ran across the skin on the back of my hands, over my new favorite part of me, soothing me into deep slumber with a familiar warm and tingly feeling in my heart and stomach.

Was it casual if I still think of you when I see lemons?

“Hi, Mrs. Yoon! It’s so good to see you!” I greeted Jeonghan’s mother with a tight hug and a grin.

She hugged me back and smoothed her hand through my hair with a sweet smile. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m doing great!”

“No boyfriend yet?” she asked jokingly. I chuckled along with her and Jeonghan rolled his eyes.

“Mom, don’t bother her with questions like that. C’mon, Jeong-ah, let’s go to my room.”

As we retreated further into the house, Mrs. Yoon yelled from the kitchen, “Make sure to give her a tour of the house!”

The Yoon family had moved again recently, so it was only natural for Jeonghan to give me a quick house tour. Passing by the living room, I noticed that our younger siblings had already situated themselves by the coffee table with their dolls and toys. I smiled at the sight.

The last part of the tour was his room. It looked eerily similar to his old room but at the same time, it was completely different.

“Woah, your room is so big.”

Jeonghan sprawled out against his bed. “Yeah, it’s great. Especially since I don’t have to share rooms with my older brother now,” He looked around his room with a proud look on his face. “I have a basic layout down, but I still want to move around some things and decorate.”

I jumped into his bed, joining him on his comforter. “Ooh, with what?”

“You know, pictures and posters of basketball and football.”

I hummed. “You better have a picture of us together.”

“How could I forget?” Jeonghan rolled his eyes at me sarcastically and I laughed. “But I already have a Packers poster-”

I threw my wadded up ball of socks I had just taken off at him. “I’m telling you, Raiders are better.”

“Ew, get your nasty socks and opinions away from me.” Jeonghan threw my socks back at me with a disgusted look and I laughed. “I know it’s your opinion, but your opinion is just plain wrong in this situation.”

“Whatever, Hannie. You know I’m right.” I stuck my tongue out at him and looked up at his ceiling.

His new ceiling didn’t have the glow-in-the-dark stars he had in his old room and I frowned. “Hannie, you don’t have your stars anymore.”

He looked at me, confused. “What stars?”

“Our stars. The glow-in-the-dark ones we put up at your old house?”

Jeonghan rubbed his hand along the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah… I just thought they were getting a bit childish for me now.”

My frown deepened. “Childish? What do you mean, childish?”

“I mean, we’re eighth graders now, Jeong-ah. We’re gonna be high schoolers soon and I think glow-in-the-dark stars might be a bit too childish for a high schooler.”

My face fell. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, JeongJeong.”

I tried my best to smile and brighten up. “It’s okay, Hannie. It’s personal preference. It’s your room, not mine.”

“Thanks. Well, do you wanna get started on math?”

“Okay! You better be a good teacher.”

Jeonghan laughed as I climbed off his bed. “No promises, JeongJeong.”

For the next hour and a half, Jeonghan and I sat on the floor of his new bedroom, solving algebra equations. He was sitting across from me, and I stared at him whenever I thought he wasn’t looking. I don’t know when it happened, but something about him had changed.

His shoulders seemed more broad and his facial features had somehow sharpened. We always knew that Jeonghan had attractive facial features, but when he was younger, he was much softer and adorable. In the past few weeks I’d seen him, he seemed more adult-like. Was this what puberty did to a person?

Sure, I already knew about the effects puberty had—I wasn’t exactly a late bloomer myself. But to see Jeonghan, my best friend who used to get bathed in the same sink as me before either of us could talk, having a taller, lankier build made me feel something in my stomach.

The fact that I had a crush on Jeonghan for a while now was no big secret either. All of my friends at school knew about it (thank God he went to a different school), and even my sisters and his younger sister knew too. Just a couple weeks ago, I confided in his sister about my not-so-little crush on her older brother.

Initially, Sua was a bit grossed out by the whole thing. Her brother? Out of all people? Despite feeling weird about it, she told me that she always thought we looked good together and she had always rooted for us for as long as she could remember.

I had laughed when she said the last part, but that night, I tossed and turned in bed all night as I imagined what my life would be like if we were together. Would he pick me up every Wednesday like he always did, but with flowers instead of packets of algebra equations? Would he hug me more often instead of the awkward occasional side hug we did ever since I started puberty?

There had been so many instances where I considered gathering up the courage to tell him about my crush on him, and I always thought I had a chance, too. There was something about the way he looked at me whenever we were playing Mario Kart that told me he considered me more than a childhood friend.

Out of the blue, Jeonghan set down his pencil. “Wanna take a break?”

I looked up from my worksheet with a meek smile. “Please?”

He laughed and stood up, helping me up with him. “Come on, I haven’t shown you the backyard yet.”

My eyes widened with excitement. “You guys have a backyard?”

“Mhm! There’s a lemon tree too. It belongs to the neighbors but they told us we can take from it whenever we want.”

I excitedly followed Jeonghan out into the hallway, living room, and to the backyard. It wasn’t the most spacious backyard I’d seen but there was enough area for all of the kids to play.

I looked around, observing the trees lined up against the fence. “Where’s the lemon tree?”

“Try looking for it.” Jeonghan shrugged and walked around the backyard aimlessly.

I playfully rolled my eyes and began looking through the different trees to try and look for the lemon tree. The sun was hot and bright, making me feel sticky and gross. The forecast wasn’t joking when it said that summer was finally here, because the early July heat was making me sweat like no other.

“Jeong-ah, a little birdie told me that you have a not-so-little crush on me.”

I froze in my tracks. “What?” My heart was racing at what felt like a hundred miles a minute and I frantically searched for something to say.

“Is it true?”

I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt with a nervous laugh. “Um… it depends?”

“Depends?” Jeonghan looked at me with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah? I mean it depends on a lot of things, right? Like your definition of like and my definition of like might be different and what do you mean by little bir-”

“I like you too,” Jeonghan interrupted my rambling with a smile. “Follow me, I’ll show you the lemon tree.”

I was so stunned that I could only wordlessly follow Jeonghan to a small space between the wall of his house and the wooden fence separating his backyard from the neighbor’s.

At the edge stood a small lemon tree that hung over the fence. The actual tree itself was planted on the neighbor’s property but it had received so much love and care that its branches grew up and over the fence onto the Yoon property.

“Woah… It’s so pretty. I can see some lemons beginning to ripen,” I reached up on the tips of my toes but the closest lemon was still too high up for me to reach. From behind me, Jeonghan laughed at my feeble attempt and effortlessly reached up for the lemon, ripping it away from the branch.

My breath got caught in my throat at the way Jeonghan was looming over me. I was always the taller one when we were younger; when did he get so tall? He wasn’t that tall yet but there was a noticeable height difference that made my heart flutter.

Jeonghan handed me the lemon and I thanked him with a small smile. “Jeonghan, about what you said earlier…”

He turned around to face me with a shy smile. It was obvious he was blushing by the way the tips of ears and his cheeks were flushed with a shade of bright pink. “Yeah, I like you. And Sua told me.”

“Why, that little—” I was about to storm into the house to give his little sister a piece of my mind, but because the walkway was so narrow, I wouldn’t have been able to pass without Jeonghan moving out of the way. I took a few steps forward, expecting him to get out of the way, except he didn’t.

“Can you, like, scooch? So I can—”

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Jeonghan said seriously. His eyes held an intense and serious gaze I had never seen from him before. The Jeonghan I knew was playful and lighthearted. Right now, whatever this was, this was the complete opposite.

“You should, if you really want to,” I managed to say breathlessly before Jeonghan took a step closer and captured my lips with his in one, swift movement. He placed a hand on my cheek, gently guiding my face up so my lips would be pressed gently into his.

I’d always been a hopeless romantic for as long as I can remember. I always dreamed of the perfect first kiss with the perfect person. It would be romantic, it would be swoon-worthy, and it would be everything I had ever seen and heard of from the books and movies.

Like fireworks. I always read about the fireworks feeling a person would get when they’d kissed ‘The One’ for the first time. I’ve always wondered when I would be able to kiss ‘The One’ and what those fireworks would feel like.

There were almost 8 billion people in the world. Statistics and studies show that an average human being meets about 80,000 people while they live. That would mean one only meets 0.00001% of the world’s population in their lifetime, which means I had almost 0% chance of meeting ‘The One’ in my lifetime. How lucky would I be, if the first person I kissed would be my last, because they were ‘The One’ for me?

The moment Jeonghan’s soft lips touched mine, everything within me collectively exploded. An indescribable feeling blossomed within my chest, spreading all over the rest of my body. After what felt like years of imagining what it would be like to be kissing Jeonghan, it was finally happening. I was kissing Jeonghan and he was kissing me, and the rest of the world seemed to slip away. Jeonghan let out a small exhale and I felt the soft tickle of his breath beneath my nose, which made me giggle.

My heart felt so full but so empty simultaneously as I poured everything I had within me for Jeonghan into this kiss. I felt like floating but Jeonghan kept me grounded with the way his soft lips were firmly pressed into mine.

I eventually reluctantly pulled away to catch my breath. Jeonghan ran a hand through his hair with a dazed look in his eyes and I grazed my lips with the tips of my fingers. They were still tingling from the sensation of kissing and I secretly hoped this feeling would never disappear.

Jeonghan slipped a hand against my lower back and pulled me closer, pressing my body against his as our lips brushed together for a second time. I sighed against his lips, which made him laugh.

“Did I just witness Yoon Jeonghan and Kim Jeong-ah kissing?” We heard a loud voice yell from above us. Immediately pulling away like two similar polar charges repelling against each other, Jeonghan and I scrambled to act nonchalant but it was too late.

Jeonghan’s older brother, Jeongmin, was staring out the second floor window with an absolute shit-eating grin. “Jeonghan and Jeong-ah, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes the love, then the marriage-”

Jeonghan groaned, annoyed by the whole situation, as he ran a hand over his tired and blushing face. “At least I can say I’ve kissed someone now.” Jeonghan mumbled.

“I heard that!”

When we walked back into the house, my heart soared at the thought of having a boyfriend. Jeonghan was going to ask me to be his girlfriend and I could already imagine the look on my friends’ faces. Awe, shock, surprise, happiness? I was so excited, I couldn’t contain my joy as I bounded into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

Jeonghan trailed behind me. His steps were slow and hesitant and I turned to face him with an expectant look in my eyes. It was going to happen, Jeonghan was going to officially ask me to be his girlfriend.

I handed him a cup of water and as he took a sip from the cup, I eyed him expectantly. After almost ten years of pining—

“So, do you want to get back to practicing derivatives now?”

At that moment, I thought my entire world had just shattered and I felt the ground underneath me open up and swallow me whole. Hell, I wish it would’ve instead of leaving me standing awkwardly in front of Jeonghan who was pretending like everything that happened in the past 10 minutes had never happened.

I guess Jeonghan noticed my reaction because he reached for the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “Our placement test is coming up and I want both of us to be really prepared, you know? I really want us to go to the same school.”

I swallowed back the bitter sting in my eyes and nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Jeonghan and I went back to his room where we spent the rest of the afternoon in complete silence, only with the occasional ‘Did I do something wrong in this equation? I keep getting a decimal’ to interrupt the silence.

Was it casual when you risked getting in trouble for my sake?

When my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I was able to register in the dark was Sua’s sleeping form on her bed. As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark, I sat up from my sleeping spot on the floor. To my right, I was barely able to make out my sisters sleeping a few feet away from me and I felt a cold hand press into my cheek.

“You awake, squeak?”

My eyes had somewhat adjusted by now, but I was unable to recognize the squatting shadow in front of me. But I immediately knew it was Jeonghan.

I nodded and rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hands. “What time is it?”

“Five minutes before midnight. Come on,” With Jeonghan’s help, I stood up and we stumbled out of Sua’s bedroom and into the dimly lit hallway. “Follow me.”

Jeonghan grabbed my hand and dragged me downstairs. The entire first floor was fully dark, save for the Christmas tree in the corner next to the fireplace that was still up. The bright crystal lights illuminated the walls and ornaments in a whimsical, fairytale-esque light.

“Jeonghan? What are we doing?”

The taller boy didn’t respond. He simply walked to a small door on the side of the staircase we just took. The door was barely tall enough to fit a sixth grader, definitely not two high school sophomores.

“When we moved into this house, I found this room. It’s kind of like Harry’s room in the Dursley’s home,” Jeonghan said. He opened the door, and inside was a cozy nook overflowing with pillows, blankets, and… basketball posters. Of course.

I giggled at the LeBron poster that had begun to slightly peel off the wall but followed Jeonghan inside. The room was just big enough to fit the two of us, but even when we were sitting at the opposite sides of the room, our knees would probably be touching. Jeonghan situated himself on one side of the room and patted the empty space next to him, motioning for me to sit down next to him.

“What is this place?” I plopped down on the floor next to him.

“My space. When I need a break from studying or the cello, I come here. It’s pretty cozy, huh? I decorated it myself.” Jeonghan puffed up his chest proudly and I laughed.

“Yeah, it looks great. The LeBron poster with the fluffy pink pillows. Very… you.” I fingered the throw pillow next to me and Jeonghan let out a small sound of frustration.

“I told Sua I didn’t want pink but she insisted… I wanted gray pillows,” Jeonghan groaned. He rested his head on my shoulder and pouted. I gently patted his head to console him.

“It looks great, Hannie. I promise.”

“You should ask me why we’re in here instead of sleeping like everyone else.”

I let out a sigh that ended in a laugh. “Okay, Jeonghan. Why are we in here instead of sleeping like everyone else?”

Jeonghan immediately straightened up and turned his body to face me, and I mirrored his movements. The way he looked at me with shining, excited eyes reminded me of the same 5-year old who enjoyed pulling on my pigtails and showing me his Pokemon cards.

Despite growing a lot in the past decade, there were still some parts of Yoon Jeonghan that never seemed to change. For example, that mischievous look on his face whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Wait here.” Jeonghan disappeared outside and I couldn’t help but smile at his excited, almost child-like demeanor. Resting my head against the wall, I looked up and saw the sloped ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

The door opened and Jeonghan reappeared with a single cupcake, a match, a candle, and two mini party hats. “I know we all got in trouble by our parents today so we can’t celebrate New Year’s, but I still wanted to do something for you. I know how much you love New Year’s celebrations.”

It was true. When all six of us had gotten in trouble earlier that evening because Jeonghan convinced all of us to try and help him set up a booby trap in his grumpy neighbor’s driveway, I was greatly disheartened when our parents decided that our collective punishment would be a bedtime of 9:30 and no New Year’s celebration.

I was particularly more upset than the others because my parents had promised me a year ago that this New Year’s celebration would be the year where I finally got to try champagne.

“Jeonghan, I-” I faltered. I couldn’t find the words to describe how grateful I was to have him at that moment.

Jeonghan scrambled to sit in the empty spot next to me. “You can thank me and be impressed later, just put this hat on. We only have a minute left.” He snapped on his own party hat before sliding its identical piece over my own head.

With a shaky hand, Jeonghan struck the match and lit the candle that was stuck atop the cupcake. We had made these cupcakes earlier today, with the help of our siblings. It had always been a tradition of ours. My family would go over to the Yoon family’s house for the New Year’s and we would spend the night.

Jeonghan, his older brother, and I were the older ones so we usually resorted to playing video games, board games, and baking while our younger siblings played with toys or watched TV. Our time together was always fun and a big highlight of my winter break every year.

But two years ago, when Jeonghan and I kissed under that lemon tree, something changed. Our conversations became more stiff and awkward and he seemed to avoid me and my text messages more often.

When I consulted my mother about this situation (minus the kissing part), she had laughed and told me, “It’s because both of you are going through puberty now. It’s okay, it’s natural! Your relationship is going to return to normal in no time.”

Albeit it did take two years and a global pandemic for the two of us to be back on speaking terms again, but I was thankful to have my best friend back.

Jeonghan looked at me with a bright smile as he softly began to count down, his phone propped up against the wall so we could keep an eye on the clock. The single flame of the candle seemed to reflect the hundreds and thousands of stars that Jeonghan held within his eyes. His long lashes fluttered against his pale cheek bone and that tear-shaped mole on his right cheek that I had always been fond of.

“Five… four…” I joined him in the count down, our hands holding the small cupcake together.

I’d grown to accept the fact that Jeonghan wanted to pretend that kiss never happened. I did a lot of thinking and reflecting during our time apart to realize that it was our silly pre-pubescent emotions that had gotten the best of us in that moment. It never meant anything.

There was also a period of time when I questioned everything. He was the one who had brought up my feelings for him first, confessed to me, and brought up kissing first.

But I also knew the answer to that. The summer we had kissed was the summer before we entered our freshman year of high school, and Jeonghan was under immense pressure from his parents to get into this prestigious academy in our town. The only way a student was permitted to attend this school was by passing an admissions test that thousands of students across the state took as an attempt to attend the school.

I had also wanted to attend that school. They had an exceptional instrumental music program and I had always dreamed of being in the same orchestra as Jeonghan. Him on cello, me on violin. My idiotic eighth grade self had even imagined ourselves performing together in our senior year of high school; Jeonghan would be first chair cello and I would be concertmaster.

But those foolish hopes and dreams of mine were crushed when Jeonghan passed the admissions tests with flying colors while I received an emergency surgery the same day for an unexpected case of appendicitis. My parents and I had begged the school for a re-take, explaining that I was physically unable to come and take the test, as well as the other retake test days because I was recovering from surgery. The school said they couldn’t make any exceptions and so I didn’t have any choice but to go to my local high school five minutes away from my home instead of the state-recognized academy Jeonghan was going to attend 20 minutes away.

“Two… one! Happy new year!” Jeonghan cheered. “One, two, three!”

11 years of friendship helped me to immediately recognize Jeonghan’s intent when he began counting again.

When he reached 3, the two of us blew at the single candle and the flame flickered for a moment before it disappeared, leaving a small trail of white smoke in its wake. Jeonghan pulled the candle out of the cupcake and I dipped my finger into the frosting and smeared it across my best friend’s cheek.

Jeonghan smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes before dipping this thumb into the white frosting and spreading it across my forehead. “Simbaaaaa.”

We both erupted into a fit of childish giggles as I tried to smear another glob of dense, sweet frosting onto his face, but he dodged my hand successfully. And because Jeonghan was blessed by the genetic gods and had much longer arms than I did, he was able to reach over and smudge another spot of white frosting onto the top of my nose.

“Ewww!” I cried loudly.

Jeonghan tried to shush me but it was too late. We heard a door upstairs opening, and a pair of footsteps moving down the stairs. Jeonghan and I held onto each other with bated breaths and when we heard the footsteps slowly fade away, we let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Maybe they’re just grabbing water or some-” As Jeonghan whispered into my ear, the doorknob of the small door rattled and opened, revealing Mrs. Yoon, half disheveled with a face mask.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to suppress the giggle that was threatening to spill as Jeonghan fumbled to find the right words. “H-hi, mom. We were just-”

“Out. Both of you. Now.”

Uh oh.

(We ended up being grounded by our respective parents for the rest of the winter break but it was okay because that was the best new year’s celebration I’ve ever had because it was with Jeonghan.)

Was it casual when you said you believed in fate because of me?

“Do you believe in fate?”

My sudden question must’ve startled Jeonghan because he flinched in his desk chair before adjusting his glasses to look at me. He was busy studying for the SAT so I decided to keep him company by lounging around in his bed with a book since I had passed the SAT on my first try.

“Why do you ask?” Jeonghan responded, returning his gaze back to the workbook laid out in front of him.

I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. “This book that I’m reading right now, it’s talking about fate and how it’s real because there’s some incidents in the world that simply can’t be coincidences.”

Jeonghan hummed in thought but didn’t respond. Comfortable silence filled the room as the question and possibility of fate hung heavily in the air, before he spoke again. “I think fate exists.”

“Really? Why?” I lifted my face to face him and this time, it was Jeonghan’s turn to shrug.

“I think some things are simply meant to be. Everything I’ve experienced, the people I met, and the lessons I learned all have a profound impact on my life and my sense of self. I think everything in my life happens because I need it to happen in order for me to fulfill my life’s purpose, whatever that may be.” He pressed his pencil against his lips. “Okay, then riddle me this. Why shouldn’t fate exist?”

I tapped my finger against the cover of the book in thought. “Hm, I guess you’re right. I think fate exists in the world, just not in my own life.”

Jeonghan set down his pencil this time, which meant he was fully invested in the conversation. “What makes you say that?”

I flipped over onto my stomach and looked at my best friend who was watching me intently from the other side of the room. His recently bleached hair was a tousled mess from all the different times he had wrangled his hair in frustration with wrestling the SAT problems in the past two hours. The black square glasses I bought him last Christmas sat neatly on the bridge of his nose. He looked good.

“I don’t know. Nothing really ‘fate-worthy’ has really happened in my life.” I made air quotes with my fingers as I spoke. “There hasn’t been a coincidence where I was so shocked, I thought, ‘This can’t just be a coincidence.’” I guess something I said had amused Jeonghan because a corner of his lips curled up. “What? What’s so funny, Yoon Jeonghan? Mr. Valedictorian?”

He threw his eraser at me. “Don’t call me that. I’m not going to be the valedictorian.”

“Helloooooo, you were literally called into the counselor’s office during summer break so she could tell you the final requirements you needed to fill to become valedictorian. What do you mean you’re not getting it? If anyone deserves that title, it’s you.” I caught the erase he threw at me and tucked it into the book I was reading to save the page for later.

“You don’t actually mean that.” Jeonghan fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I- I failed the SAT three times already, and even you passed-” He paused and glanced over at me. “Shit, sorry, Jeong-ah. I didn’t mean it like that.”

My eyes narrowed at his words. Although we’ve always been friends and never had any sort of rivalry except for the lighthearted competitions we did to motivate each other, there was always an unspoken tension between us when it came to academics.

When I was younger, people called me a child prodigy. I never needed a tutor or extra lessons to stay on top of my classmates and peers. My parents also never pressured me to study or have a thriving academic career. Their philosophy was that as long as I found joy in learning, that was enough for them. I was my own catalyst, rather than my parents. I wanted to push myself further and further to see how far I could go, how much I could achieve on my own.

Jeonghan was the opposite. He didn’t find studying or school fun; he preferred to play basketball outside with friends or take a nap. On his own, Jeonghan didn’t struggle to keep up, but he also wasn’t one of the best. Much different from my parents, Jeonghan’s parents considered education the most important thing to a person. I witnessed them ridiculing Jeonghan countless times for his ‘poor’ grades and performances and made constant comparisons to me and his brother.

He initially tried to fight back their expectations, but after his older brother was given special admission to Harvard as a junior, Jeonghan accepted his fate and began to focus on his studies. While I began to neglect my studies from an academic slump stretching along the past few years, Jeonghan was thriving and he was able to easily surpass me within a short amount of time.

As for my slump—the cause of it was unknown. My parents and I struggled for years to find some kind of reasoning for the sudden drop in my grades and my lack of motivation. I dropped all my honors classes because I struggled to keep up and I was soon dropped from the list of contenders for valedictorian’s for my graduating class. I was disappointed in myself and beat myself up for it, but Jeonghan always encouraged and consoled me with that smile of his.

Although all my academic prospects seemed to no longer be in reach for me, seeing Jeonghan receive recognition from his school and parents made me happy. He had always wanted to make his parents happy; seeing him glow from all the praise from his parents was more than enough for me.

The possibility of Jeonghan considering me his competition had never crossed my mind. I always thought this competition was something that was forced between our parents. I never deemed him as an opposition, but did he?

“Even I what? Even I, the more stupid one out of the two of us, passed the SAT on the first try? Really?” I sat up on the bed and threw the book down incredulously.

“Jeong-ah, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He ran his hands through his stupid, gorgeous-looking hair again.

“Yes, you did,” My voice was biting and laced with venom as I pointed an accusatory finger at Jeonghan. “Did you always see me as competition, Jeonghan? Another opponent for you to beat so you could look good to your parents and win a sliver of their favor? I think you and I both know that Jeong-min is always and forever going to be their favorite. He got into Harvard as a junior, for Christ’s sake.” Harsh and angry words that I didn’t mean began to brew like a storm within me and slowly started spewing out of my mouth.

“I’ve always been willing to lose to you if it meant seeing you happy. I’ve noticed the way your parents reacted whenever you did something better than me. I’m not dumb, but I’m willing to let go of my ego and pride and lose to you every time if it means getting to see you smile more. Because we’re friends and because I care for you. You’re important to me and seeing you happy is more than enough for me.” I swallowed a shaky breath and the next words came out weaker than before. “Even if that meant, although I’ve been in love with you for the past at least decade of my life, pretending that the kiss we had in eighth grade and whatever the fuck that happened during the winter break of our sophomore year and any other moment that kept me up at night in our 15 years of friendship, never happened. Even when we’re able to find each other in a big crowd and lock eyes and be able to understand what the other person is thinking with a single glance. Because you seemed more comfortable that way.

“I pretended like nothing ever happened. I even dated a more than decent guy to try and get over you. I broke a good person’s heart because I was trying to forget you. Do you know what Seungcheol said to me when we were breaking up? He said that the way that he looked at me was the way that I looked at you.”

“Jeong-ah...” Jeonghan stood up from his chair but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t do that thing where you soften your voice and look at me with the most gentle and caring eyes because you know the effect that it has on me and even though I know you don’t mean it, I’ll soften up again. No.”

Glancing down, I fidgeted with the fraying hem of my shirt. The thinning threads of fabric rolled between my fingers, similar to the thin, invisible string within me that was stressed and twisted, ready to snap, and I was suddenly painfully aware of how silent the room was. I wanted to leave.

When I looked back up, Jeonghan sighed and took off his glasses to set them down on his desk.

“You asked me if I believe in fate.” My silence served as a ‘go ahead’ for him to continue. “I believe in fate because you’ve been by my side for almost 16 years now. The moment I gained consciousness as a baby, you were in my life. Hearing you call my name in that sweet voice of yours and giggling because of how similar our names were, even though I was too young to understand the concept of love, I knew we were going to stay by each other’s sides for a long time.

“Our names and personalities, we were made to balance each other. When I went too far with my pranks, you were the one to knock some sense into me and I was the one to always teach you the rules of video games. I taught you how to play Minecraft on the Xbox and I was your first (and only) kill in Fortnite and Valorant because your parents refused to let you play games. I don’t know when or how it happened but I slowly began to believe that I was made for you. I was breathed into existence in this universe to be yours. We have nothing and everything in common, and I think that’s exactly what we’re supposed to be.

“The moment you kissed me under that lemon tree six years ago, from then on, you’ve owned my heart. Not a single minute or second after that moment, have I ever not belonged to you. Every inch of me is yours. My heart is yours. I’ve always been yours.”

At some point during his speech, Jeonghan had begun to cry. Tears were streaming down his face as he silently took a step towards me. When he noticed that I wasn’t stopping him, he took another.

I didn’t respond and simply searched his face for any signs of deceit or lies. There were none.

“You don’t mean that…” I whispered. Jeonghan took another step towards my direction, my heart. The string loosened. “Then why did you pretend like nothing happened after we kissed? I was waiting for you to ask me to be your girlfriend. I was so happy but you never brought it back up so I thought you thought it was a mistake or—”

“I was scared. Scared about what that kiss meant for us and what would happen in the future. I missed my timing and I was planning to ask you the next time I saw you, but before I could, my brother ratted us out and told my mom about our kiss. Obviously, my mom went ballistic and asked me how I could even think about girls during such a crucial time. She pressured and pushed me more than before so I wouldn’t get distracted.” I don’t know when, but Jeonghan had somehow reached the foot of the bed. He was merely inches away and I found myself craving for the comfort of his touch.

“Oh my God, so it was all my fault. I’m so sorry, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan reached out and grabbed my hands with his own. His cheeks were wet from his tears and his hands were cold, as always, seeking the warmth and comfort from me as he always did for the past 15 years.

“None of this was your fault, Jeong-ah. My mom didn’t blame you, either. She thought I was the one who had gone crazy and thought I was going to throw away everything that I had ever worked for and built, for you.”

I held my breath.

“And I would. Every single time, in every single lifetime.”

I felt my own tears welling up. “Jeonghan…”

“If you ask me to fail this SAT and go to community college or whatever college that you’re going to, then I would do it without any hesitation. I don’t care about being the black sheep of the family or constantly being compared to my brother. I’m willing to do anything and everything for you.”

“Jeonghan…” At this point, the tears were spilling out of my eyes with no thoughts of stopping. “Hannie…”

From a young age, Jeonghan got cold easily. Whenever our families went camping together, he would be the first to put on an extra layer of clothing and shiver in the chilly evening weather after the sunset. Jeonghan made it a habit to seek warmth from two sources of heat during these times: the fireplace and me.

He always insisted on sitting next to me in front of the bonfire even though my younger sibling needed help sticking their marshmallows onto their roasting stick. Jeonghan would always swiftly help them with shivering hands before nudging my side of the chair with his and asking for my hands with a gentle, pleading look in his eyes.

As we got older, I often pretended to be annoyed and rolled my eyes at this gesture but never said no. How could I say no to the one boy I’d always loved?

I’d never known what it was like to not love Jeonghan. He had a playful and silly nature from a young age. He constantly played tricks on me and our younger siblings but he was also really gentle. Jeonghan loved animals and would handle any kind with the utmost gentleness and care I would see exhibited from a human.

He also had a really soft side. Jeonghan cried often. We both even had matching tear moles on our right cheeks, right below our eyes. In Korean traditional beliefs, it was said that tear moles meant the person would cry or shed tears easily. That was probably why Jeonghan and I cried so much together when we were younger.

If I fell down and hit my head, Jeonghan would start crying before I did. We were only three years old. Our parents had always laughed and joked that we were somehow spiritually connected from how in sync our emotions were from the moment we had met.

I couldn’t remember the very first time I’d met Jeonghan since I had been too young, but I heard stories. We were barely two years old when we met and at the time, there was a blanket that I was attached to. And even at that age, I guess Jeonghan had a mischievous side because he snatched up my blanket at the first opportunity and crawled ran away with it to hide it somewhere.

I immediately became one with the activated sprinklers out in Jeonghan’s front yard and began crying non-stop. Jeonghan, who was barely three years old, started crying with me before he disappeared behind the couch and brought back my blanket. And according to our parents, that marked the beginning of our friendship.

Here we were, 15 years later. I was kneeling on Jeonghan’s childhood bed and the owner of said bed currently had his knees pressed up against the wooden frame. This was the bed where we had napped together, read together, shared countless stories together, cried together, and laughed together. This rickety, worn-down furniture alone represented our countless years of friendship and companionship together.

“Do you-” I choked back my tears. “Do you love me?”

Jeonghan let out what sounded like a heartbroken sigh. He let go of one of my hands and rested his cool palm against my hot and still-wet cheek. “Jeong-ah… There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t loved you. My earliest memory of my childhood was you, in that yellow rubber duck swimming suit in our backyard, playing with the sprinklers. I think we were five?”

I smacked him in the arm with my free hand. “Seven. It was the summer break before second grade.”

Jeonghan grinned the same exact grin that had made me fall in love with him a hundred times over. It was lighthearted and boyish and it reminded me of summer. “Right. You were always better with time.” It was innocent and it made his eyes crinkle and curve into crescent shapes. “Do you remember Inside Out? We bawled our eyes out to that movie.”

I smiled at the memory. We did. During the scene when Bing Bong died, Jeonghan and I were holding onto each other and sobbed like newborns in the theater.

“As we left the theater afterwards, I remember thinking that if there was an alternate universe where our brains worked the way it did in the movie, you would have your own island and core memory in my brain’s headquarters.”

A brief pause.

“I love you, Jeong-ah. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. You’re my first love and I will never stop loving you. To me, you’re the water for my desert, the warmth I crave when I’m cold, and the syrup to my waffles.”

I was still crying. “Pancakes are better.”

“You’re wrong, but I’ll let this one slide because the point is, I have loved you and I will continue to love you with every fiber of my being, even if you’re wrong about pancakes being better. Every atom and every cosmic dust that I am composed of belongs to you. I love you.”

If my tears were a trickle before, they were a pour now.

“Do you love me too?” Jeonghan’s voice was so gentle and soft, I almost missed his question over my snotty tears.

I nodded vigorously, afraid that my voice would fail me, as his thumb gently wiped away my tears.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan’s bright eyes searched my bleary ones and I nodded again.

With almost no hesitation, Jeonghan dipped his head to press his lips onto mine. Despite his hands being cold, his lips were warm and full of love.

6 years later and I was finally able to kiss the same boy I had been in love with for most of my life, once again.

Our kiss was wet from a mixture of both of our tears. If our first kiss was rushed and awkward and passionate, this was the complete opposite. Everything about it was slow but it also felt like everything was moving so fast at the same time.

We moved as one. There was no need to come up for air when the oxygen that I’d been missing was back. Right there, in front of me, with his eyes closed and tears running down his cheeks.

It was a short kiss that only lasted about 15 seconds, but within those 15 seconds, all of our unspoken emotions and feelings and love from the bottom of our hearts were poured out from the deepest parts of our souls to the other.

My tears had stopped at some point and I placed a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder to balance myself when we heard a loud thud from downstairs.

We jumped from where we were and reluctantly pulled away from each other. “What was that?” I asked shyly.

“I’m not sure…” He looked just as confused as I was but there was an unmistakable look on his face that told me everything that I needed to know. Jeonghan loved me and he meant it. That kiss under that lemon tree meant the world to him, like it did for me.

“I think we should go make sure—” My words were abruptly cut off by a sudden ringtone. I reached for my phone and saw that my mom was calling me, which was weird, since she was downstairs. “Hey, Mom. Is everything okay? We heard a loud noise—”

“Pack your stuff and tell your siblings to hurry up. We’re leaving.” My mom’s voice was different from what it usually sounded like. It was strained, as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

“Okay… but are you okay?”

“I’m okay but we have to leave. You have five minutes.”

“Oh, okay,” I ended the phone call and shrugged at Jeonghan who looked just as confused as I was. I was secretly disappointed that our time together was cut short. “I need to go. I think an emergency came up.”

I guess Jeonghan could sense my disappointment because he lifted my chin with his fingers and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. “It’s okay. We have plenty of time, and I do really need to study for the SAT.”

I nodded and climbed off the bed. After quickly gathering my siblings and bidding good-bye to Sua and Jeong-min, who all seemed as confused as we were, my siblings and I left Jeonghan’s house in a huff and a hurry.

My mom’s face was a bright shade of red as she hustled over to our car, mumbling under her breath angrily about something.

Once we were all in the car and the engine was running, my youngest sibling asked the question we were all currently thinking: “Mommy, are you okay? Did we do something wrong?”

My mom forced a strained smile through the rearview mirror as she pulled out of the parking lot. “It’s nothing, darling. The adults were talking and we had a bit of an argument.”

Her grip on the steering was dangerously tight and I rested my hand on top of hers. “Mom, I’ll drive. I think you need to decompress, otherwise you’ll land all of us in the hospital.”

She let out a shaky breath and nodded.

As we drove back home, I couldn’t help but glance over at my mom. She was a strong woman and knew how to stand her ground. I began to wonder what had happened between her and Jeonghan’s mom for her to get so shaken up. I shook it off and told myself to ignore it since it was none of my business.

After that day, a bright sunny day during the summer before our senior year, my family and I would never again step foot inside the Yoon family’s home. Jeonghan would mysteriously block my number and we would never contact each other again.

Epilogue.

I nervously tapped my fingers against the steering wheel of my car. Next to me, my graduation cap and gown was in a rumpled up pile in the passenger seat and the weight of my hoop earrings felt eerily similar to the heavy weight in my heart.

Jeonghan always liked it when I wore hoop earrings.

Last night, I had received a text message from an unknown number with an invitation to Jeonghan’s academy’s graduation. Attached to the invitation was a screenshot of a QR code that would be used as my admission ticket into the ceremony. The message read:

‘Jeonghan got valedictorian. I was barely able to convince my mom to get a spare ticket for you. It would mean a lot if you showed up.’

Initially, I thought it might be a scam but my friends managed to get me to snap out of it. The message was too detailed and personal to be a scam, and there was nothing the unknown number would gain from me attending this graduation.

So here I was now, in Jeonghan’s prestigious, state-recognized academy’s parking lot. The sun was beginning to set and I still hadn’t gathered the courage to get out of my car. My graduation was in the morning and I had dinner plans with my family at 8 pm. Why was I wasting my time here?

I bumped my head against the steering wheel and let out a loud groan. What was I doing here?

I let out a deep breath. “Okay, Jeong-ah. You’re here because Sua invited you. Jeonghan’s graduating and he’s giving a big speech as the valedictorian. You’re here to support him as an old childhood friend. Nothing else.”

I forced myself to get out of my car and make my way towards the stadium. The seats inside were already packed, and after being waved through by security, I searched the seats for an empty spot. Eventually, I found an empty seat at the very top of the bleachers, hiding in the shade of the press box. The ceremony had already started when I entered, so the football field was filled with navy gowns and various skin-tone colored dots.

As different superintendents and student leaders made their way to the front to make their speeches, I tried my best to focus but there was a trembling within me that I couldn’t withhold.

When it was finally Jeonghan’s turn to speak, it seemed as if the entire stadium had erupted into cheers for him, but all I could manage was a feeble clap or two. As he took center stage, seeing him on the big screen at the end of the football field made my blood run cold and I felt the muscles and guts inside me squeeze and tighten with anxiety. He looked the exact same, but better.

He had dyed his hair back to black and it was cut short again. Gone were his days with a mullet, and as he spoke, I felt like I had gotten kicked in the stomach. His voice was the exact same as I imagined it. My friends called me over dramatic earlier today, saying that it had only been a year since I’ve seen him; he wasn’t going to be that different.

But they were wrong. That was one year of absolute no contact. The last time we hadn’t gotten that far without seeing each other was during the pandemic, but even then, we were constantly calling or texting each other. This was the first time we had absolutely no contact since we first met.

Jeonghan was the most decorated student out there, and there was no doubt about it. Despite being in a school full of high-achievers and students who did more extracurriculars than I could count on my fingers and toes combined, Jeonghan had somehow managed to do it all.

There was a slight breeze, which was unexpected since it was late May, but the breeze helped me cool down as the sun began to further set beyond the horizon. The stadium lights began to turn on, one by one, as Jeonghan began to wrap up his speech.

Shit. I had completely missed the speech. I was so busy reminiscing and thinking about Jeonghan that I had missed his entire speech. I racked my head to try and see if I could recollect anything but all I could remember was him talking about the Eagle Scouts.

Goddamn it, Jeong-ah. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. I was sure Sua had invited me to the graduation because she wanted me to hear his speech and celebrate her older brother becoming valedictorian.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. As hundreds of students crossed the stage in the same cap and gown with a bright smile on their face, I blankly sat through it, trying to stay strong until the end so I could say hi and congratulate Jeonghan. The bouquet of flowers in my lap rustled in the wind as the night grew colder and the sun disappeared. The stadium lights lit up one by one, and the ceremony was done.

The principal of the school stood from his seat to congratulate the students and present to the audience, the class of 2024. Everyone rose from their seats to applaud and I followed suit. As the recessional began to play from the band, fireworks lit up the sky and everyone cheered in celebration at the sight of the students throwing their caps.

I teetered my way out of the bleachers. My feet were aching and wobbling from the pain of wearing heels all day. I should’ve brought spare shoes.

The crowd was slow and unmoving but I was eventually able to leave the stadium and look for Jeonghan and his family. His school’s campus was vast and every square inch of the school quad seemed to be littered with different students in the same cap and gown congratulating one another, crying, and taking photos with their loved ones. I felt awkward in my white dress, black heels, and limp bouquet of flowers. I was practically dressed identically as this one girl who had just walked past me. The only difference was the cap she had on her head, the tears in her eyes, and the robe she was wearing.

I spent the next 45 minutes scouring every area of the campus. I wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar with Jeonghan’s school since I had visited a couple times for youth orchestra rehearsals and the different times I had picked him on Thursdays so we could go get frozen yogurt and study together afterwards.

Jeonghan was nowhere to be found. My feet were crying out in pain, similar to how my heart yearned and cried for the love of my life who had disappeared on me a year ago. My right heel had already begun to blister and I could feel the back of my dress digging into my skin uncomfortably. I limped across the quad again and noticed how much more vacant it had become. Most families had left after taking pictures, so there were a lot fewer people than before.

I felt something within the pit of my stomach and I prepared myself to turn on my heels and return to my car when my phone rang with a new notification. It was from the same unknown number that had sent me the invitation, and this time, they had sent me their location. That must be where Jeonghan was.

I practically sprinted across the campus, following the blue dot on my screen to try and get to him as fast as possible.

I heard him before I saw him. Before I turned the corner into a secluded hallway, I heard Jeonghan’s laugh, the same laugh that haunted me every night in my sleep, echo through the empty corridors. Was this what it might’ve been like to go to school with him? To be able to recognize him in the hallways solely based on his sounds?

Fixing my hair and dress, I tried my best to look presentable before stepping forward and seeing Jeonghan smoking with his friends.

Jeonghan? Smoking?

My brain short-circuited as I tried my best to connect the two dots. Jeonghan was smoking? He was always the one who made faces when he saw people smoking on the streets and swore to never touch nicotine or tobacco in his life.

He seemed to recognize me right away because he dropped his cigarette butt on the floor, squishing it with the heel of his shoe before walking towards me.

As Jeonghan got closer, I could immediately smell the pungent scent of the cigarette that wafted off of him and I tried my best not to gag.

“JeongJeong?” His voice was impossibly soft. The cap that was on his head earlier was gone and his dark hair was a tousled mess, much different from what it looked like during the ceremony. “You came?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Of course I came, Hannie. You were valedictorian, how could I miss that?”

Jeonghan seemed to visibly swallow. He opened his mouth to say something before closing it again and whipping around to face his friends. “You guys go ahead first. I’ll catch up.”

After a collective chorus of goodbye’s, it was just the two of us. Jeonghan eyed the bouquet of flowers that seemed to have wilted in the past 2 hours. “Is that for me?”

“Uh, yeah! Here you go.” I handed the flowers to Jeonghan with mannerisms similar to a kindergartner giving her favorite crayon to her first crush to share. “Congratulations, you deserve it.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, thanks…” He trailed off with his eyes trained on the floor.

“So…” I started as an attempt to fill in the awkward silence. “What are your plans now?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “I got a full ride to John Hopkins University. I’m going undeclared but I want to be an anesthesiologist when I’m older.”

I couldn’t help it, my jaw dropped open. “John Hopkins? Full ride? Holy shit, Jeonghan. Congratulations. I knew you could do it.”

The boy in front of me grew shy and rubbed the back of his head with a hand. “Yeah… I wasn’t expecting it either. I got lucky.”

“Lucky? No, you earned that, Jeonghan. Seriously. I’m really proud of you.” I smiled at him and Jeonghan smiled back.

“Thanks, Jeong-ah. It means a lot coming from you,” Jeonghan smiled shyly and looked at me with an expectant look in his eyes. After a beat of silence, he opened his mouth to speak again. “So… what’d you think of my speech?”

Speech? Oh, God. I opened my mouth and closed it again, searching for the right words to say that were general enough to compliment him but not too general so he wouldn’t notice that I had completely spaced out thinking about him during his speech.

What did valedictorians usually talk about during their speeches? I racked my brain for ideas. Usually, a particularly sad story from their childhood and how that motivated them to pursue education. No, that wouldn’t work. Jeonghan was a highly private person, he wouldn’t expose his deepest, darkest secrets and traumas to the entire school like that. Different difficulties and setbacks they faced during high school? No, I can’t think of any examples on the spot. How much have they grown and changed as a person over the course of four years in high school? Perfect.

“I thought it was really good! I really resonated with the part where you talked about growth and change. We all make mistakes when we’re younger but the best thing we can do is bounce back from that by learning from our mistakes and moving forward.” I smiled at him again. “It was great.”

Something about Jeonghan’s demeanor changed, almost as if his facial expression darkened. “Really?”

I nodded, maintaining that same smile on my face. “Mhm. I resonated with it a lot—”

Jeonghan cut me off. “Not a single objection? No notes? I left a few mistakes in there on purpose to see if you would notice them.”

“Nope, it was great!”

Jeonghan squinted his eyes at me. He took a couple steps back and glanced at his phone screen. His current attitude and his attitude from a few seconds ago were completely different. What happened? Did I say something wrong about his speech?

“Well, I need to get going now…” He took another step back. “Thanks for coming today, and um, have a great life, I guess.”

Great life? I thought we were going to make up and be friends again, or maybe even more than friends. I still had to ask him why he blocked my number and contact on every single platform possible.

“Wait, Jeonghan—” He stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face me. “Shouldn’t we talk about what happened? About us?”

Jeonghan scoffed. “Us? There is no us.”

It felt like my heart was stabbed with a kitchen knife and twisted around at hearing those words. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “Can you not speak English? I said, there is no us.”

“No, no. The last time we talked, you—you told me you loved me. And I told you that I loved you too,” I shook my head in denial. “You professed your love for me with such beautiful words, what do you mean—”

“It didn’t mean anything, Jeong-ah.” Jeonghan’s voice was cold. It was nothing like I had ever heard before. His voice was usually soft and gentle, almost angelic with every word he spoke. Even when he yelled in the past, his yells were docile.

“What?”

“What don’t you understand? It was just casual. We had a casual thing going on because it was convenient and we were both lonely.” Every word Jeonghan said felt like they were being spat out. Like they were dirty and he couldn’t believe he had to say these words out loud.

“Casual? No, no, Jeonghan. None of it was casual. What we had was—”

“It was casual, Jeong-ah. That’s why nothing happened between us for 16 years. It was casual and it was convenient. Last time we talked, I got swept up from the overwhelming stress of studying for the SAT and college applications. I apologize if I led you on in any way, shape, or form.”

“Jeonghan…” I struggled to find the words to speak. “I don’t understand—”

“I said everything I needed to say. I don’t know if there’s any other way for me to convey what I said so you can understand, but I really hope you have a great life. You were a really good childhood friend. I think I’ll be able to hold onto a few good memories of this shithole thanks to you.”

Jeonghan walked away, further distancing himself from me in the empty corridor we were standing in. When he reached the end, he glanced over his shoulder. “I hope you have a great time at a community college.”

That was the final blow that had shattered my heart into a million pieces. He disappeared in the moonlight as he turned the corner, leaving me all alone in the dark.

Jeonghan knew how much I hated the dark.

I walked back to my car, heart numb and feet heavy, as I stumbled every few steps from the pinching pain of my heels. On the windshield of my car, I noticed a small envelope addressed to me. I tore it open to see what was inside.

To. Jeong-ah

Hi, Jeong-ah! It’s been a while... I hope you're doing well.

I’m sure you were surprised when you first received my text. Sorry if I scared you, I got a new phone a couple months back but even then, I know we never had the kind of relationship to privately contact each other, that was more a Sua and Jeonghan thing.

I invited you to Jeonghan’s graduation because of his speech. He worked really hard on it. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but he even cried on some days because he missed you so much. I know it’s not your fault, but cutting contact was almost one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Jeonghan wasn’t himself for a while after that.

I know Jeonghan’s my brother and he’s like really gross and disgusting and stuff, but you guys always seemed so happy together, even when we were younger. I remember Sua once told me that her future relationships were going to look like whatever you and Jeonghan had going on. (And so far, she hasn’t even come close LMFAO)

I invited you so that the two of you could try and make amends. You’re both adults now so whatever happened between our parents shouldn’t affect our own relationships.

Thanks for coming, Jeong-ah. I know for a fact it meant a lot for Jeonghan too.

I’ll see you at the wedding, I guess? (lmao i’m just kidding)(unless…?)

Warm regards,

Jeong-min

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated! ^-^

tags: @fragmentof-indifference ; @minvxq ; @straykidsstanforeverandever

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anachronismstellar · 1 month ago

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I'm still in a weird mood, but at least I'm writing lol

This was supposed to be a fun/cute cumplane fic, but my brain got taken over by @mysteryteacup post about Airplane being a good writer he just couldn't afford the time to write.

Hope you guys enjoy it!

-----------

"Do you think we would have met before?"

The question came a bit out of nowhere, disrupting the soft mood of the bamboo house. The weather was warm, rain hitting the roof in a soothing pattern, the open doors bringing in the green hues inside the living room along with a gentle breeze.

Shen Yuan closed his book, setting Airplane's latest story aside. The plot was not so terrible now that they had stepped down as peak lords. Retirement had a good look on him, made his shoulders relaxed and his posture elegant, as if he had finally made himself comfortable with his body, fear a mask long forgotten.

"What do you mean?" Shen Yuan didn't pick up his fan as once he would, his own insecurities whispers from the past. Instead, he just turned his face at Airplane, both watching as smoke curled up from Airplane's long pipe.

Outside, thunder rolled over them like the Gods were dragging clouds heavy as stones.

"Before," Airplane waved at the scenery in general, and it didn't need much for Shen Yuan to catch what he meant. "I mean, I didn't participate in any of the big conventions they invited me, but..."

Shen Yuan hummed, head tilted to the side, imagining how would he react if he ever met Airplane under other circumstances. It would have been disastrous for sure, both of them struggling with the different challenges of a world without flying swords and demons. Would they even be friends? Probably not. Shen Yuan had spent so much of his time stuck on his own head, going from doctor after doctor, too bitter to enjoy nice things, dedicating his whole life on hating a poorly written book. And from other conversations, he knew that Airplane had been bitter as well, sacrificing his words and his world in the name of the next meal, the next rent.

"I don't see how," he reached for his cup of tea, heating up his cold hands against the warm porcelain. "Like you said, you never went to the conventions. I didn't either, to be honest. Too many people."

Shang Qinghua nodded slowly as he filled his lungs with smoke, letting it go through his nose. Shen Yuan waited for a bit longer, curious to see where Airplane wanted to get with his question. He was almost picking up the story again when-

"I was just..." He started as he put his pipe down to comb his hair with his fingers, putting the strands behind his ears. Another big change from when they had passed their mantle to the next generation: Airplane had started to wear his hair down, Northern braids adorning the sides of his head, silver beads glittering among chocolate brown. "Is the book good?"

The sudden change of topic made Shen Yuan blink. However, it wasn't as if he weren't used to Airplane's mind jumping around, so he just took it in stride, nodding slowly.

"I enjoyed how you developed the main character relationship with his old master, although I still think you should stop killing mothers left and right."

Airplane couldn't help but chuckle, his smile making his eyes curve into half moons.

"Leave some tropes for me to work with, bro, there's so much this poor writer can come up with!"

Shen Yuan could only roll his eyes at the other, picking up the book once more, touching the pages without actually reading it, just enjoying the feeling of paper on his hands.

"Well, it is an improvement. And as always your beasts are impeccable, I'll give you that."

And he regretted immediately the compliment when Airplane dramatically clutched his robes, pretending to faint. The little shit.

"Oh! Oh praised be the Heavens! A compliment from the immovable Peerless Cucumber! Oh my heart! My heaaart-"

Shen Yuan did his best to hold back his frustration and just throw his fan at the writer. Good thing that Airplane calmed down again, chin up so he could stare at the top of the bamboo trees outside. Only then Shen Yuan realized that the entire time Airplane hadn't looked at him.

He felt an uncomfortable weight in his stomach, heart squeezing tight.

"Are you going to tell me what is this about?"

Airplane took a long drag of his pipe, bending his head back a bit further to blow little circles in the air. He should be thankful that Shen Yuan had worked on his patience in the past decades, or he would have been hit with a fan already.

"I was thinking of your first review for Proud Immortal Demon Way," he said as he tapped the pipe on a little vase Shen Yuan had offered him earlier to use as ashtray. "You were so mean... I couldn't write for like two days."

They had commented about their forum fights before, they have even apologized for some things they had said to each other back then, but Airplane had never-

The thought of hurting him so bad to the point of making him give up on writing was-

"Huang Hua..." He whispered as he took the writer's hand close to him, brushing his thumb over the callous on his forefinger.

"Don't look at me like that, bro... Don't mind me, I'm just-" he cut himself off with a sigh, squeezing Shen Yuan's hand back. "I've been in a weird mood that's all."

Shen Yuan understood, he understood a bit too well. For all they enjoyed the benefits of magic and cultivation, they weren't meant for this immortal world, Huang Hua and him, human beings who had always had a clock ticking over their heads. He would get stuck on his own head, too, sometimes; making Binghe walk around him with soft steps and prepare his favorite foods.

He loved his husband food more than anything blessed be Airplane for deciding to make the main protagonist a good cook.

But Binghe couldn't prepare him a burger the size of his head with golden french fries.

"Well, I think the new book is going great. And to answer your question, well-" Then it was Shen Yuan's turn to pause, trying to imagine how their meeting in the real world would go. Poorly, for sure, but also... Shen Yuan was old enough, wise enough to admit that if he knew Airplane's struggles, he would probably have helped. He had been so rash in his comments because he had seen the potential, the grandeur of Airplane's mind, while describing the fauna and flora of Proud Immortal Demon Way.

"I don't know, I think if we had met, we wouldn't become friends," he admitted with a shrug, keeping his face towards the forest, feeling his cheeks burning. "I was... I was going through a lot and you had your own problems too. But depending on the day I might would have asked for an autograph." And what an embarrassing thing to admit. And while holding Airplane's hand nonetheless! Muscle memory made him take his fan and snap it open, the sound muffling Airplane's giggles.

"Well, I can't autograph your Binghe body pillow-"

"Shut up it was a collectable item!"

"- but I can autograph this copy if you want." and then he tapped the book on the table with his pipe, Shen Yuan's eyes going wide as plates.

"What?"

"I had to change a lot of things... Mostly the names and places, but-" Airplane nervously played with his hair, stealing glances at Shen Yuan's direction. "I thought, now that everything is kinda over, why not write it properly, right? Besides, the entire Proud Immortal Demon Way had never had a beta reader, although I thought about asking you sometimes way back but uh-"

"I've could have been your beta reader?!"

"Well, yes, in a way you kinda were- wait. Haven't you noticed?" Airplane let go of his hair to turn his entire body to Shen Yuan, surprise written all over his face. "Bro, you're the only person I answered more than once on the forums. Most of the time I couldn't take your ideas and use them, that would be insane and asking for a lawsuit, but when you gave me writing advice? Or when I needed to remember which wife was which or who had died? I used your comments to remember what had been happening in the last chapters."

Shen Yuan's hands got tingling all over, his face heating up to the point of boiling. He had always thought Airplane had despised him, and it was with reason. He knew he had been a hater, to the point of Airplane remembering his name after years, but he had never known that Airplane actually had paid attention, he had actually-

Wait, rewind, write what properly-

"Hold on, you're telling me that-" he picked the book again, scanning the first page and then the second, recognition downing upon him. It had felt familiar when he read it for the first time, but he had thought it was just him being used to Airplane's stories. But this...

"Proud Demon Immortal Way could have been this good?" He gasped as he turned to stare at the author, shaking the book on his hand. To which Airplane had the audacity to shrug, light pink dusting his cheeks.

"Told you many times, Bro. No time to edits, had to pay the bills."

"Airplane, how many drafts you wrote before posting that monstrosity?"

"Uh." He turned his face away again, scratching the back of his neck, then his cheek. "I mean I didn't have a draft. I wrote it down in one sitting most of the time-"

Shen Yuan was going to pass out. No wonder the story made no sense most of the times! And he still was able to follow some type of plot?!

During their lifes as cultivators, Shen Yuan faced many situations in which Airplane had his turn to shine. He might not be aware of it, oblivious writer that he was, but he could be insanely smart and think fast enough to avoid wars between tribes that any other person would fumble and make it worse. So he knew how intelligent and smart Airplane was, although he wouldn't straight up compliment him like that.

But this... Six thousand six hundred and sixty-six chapters with no draft or beta reader? This... Was insane.

"You better honor Shen Qingqiu's past this time," he heard himself say, mouth moving before his brain could catch up. And funny enough, he had mean it. "You better give him closure so I can at least glare at Yue Qingyuan without feeling guilty."

This time Airplane threw his head back and laughed, hand over his belly, the other tapping the table. Then he turned to look at Shen Yuan with his sly fox smile, forefinger moving side to side.

"Nonono, I'm sorry, bro. I'm not writing to make the readers happy this time," he said with a sharp nod, tapping his fingers against his temple. "There's a story to be told, and I'm not gonna mess up a second time."

And Shen Yuan felt as if he should be angry, he should shake Airplane by his shoulders and scream, but at the same time... He felt like Airplane had passed his test, one he wasn't aware he had set for the other.

He huffed, sliding the book over the table until it was closer to the author, opening the first page.

"You better think of a hell of dedicatory then," he said as he got up to pick writing materials, warmth spreading through his chest to the sound of Airplane's laughter.

--------

Shen Yuan is going to find out some things about Binghe and Mobei in the book lol

Again, thank you for giving it a read!

See you next time~

#scum villian self saving system #svsss #cumplane #peerless cucumber #airplane shooting towards the sky #idk where this came from #but I kinda liked it

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bumpkinspice0 · 2 months ago

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No One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 1/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You're an X-Man... well, you used to be. You left years ago, and in the aftermath of an attack on X-Mansion, Charles has asked you back to help repair the damage to the estate. An easy job for an earthmover like yourself. Still, after years away from your old home, you feel like a stranger again. So much has changed and you're not sure where you fit in anymore. The newest X-Men member isn't helping your mood either. You're not sure where they found Logan, and you're still trying to figure out what to think of him. The mans barely said anything to you. He's not the typical stray Charles would take in, but then again, neither were you when he brought you here.

AN: Like everyone else, my Wolverine obsession has also re-awoken. So I made a quick little 3 part fic to cope with it. Let's see if I can rest now This leans into the movie-verse of the x-men (He's tall because Hugh Jackman is tall lol) but I think I wrote it in such a way that you can imagine it in whatever version of the x-men you like best. Warnings: Emotional baggage, fluff, angst, self-doubt, anger issues?, alcohol, getting drunk, flirting, Logan is drunk babysitter, this is a little corny but I don't care, eventual smut

Series Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

Stepping on the soil of the Xavier estate felt odd in a way you hadn’t anticipated, like standing on hallowed ground you’re unworthy of being on. Funny, years ago you only knew it as home. Now you’re just a stranger to the rocks beneath your feet. Still, Charles asked you back. He asked for your help.

The grounds around X-Mansion were unrecognizable.

They were decimated in this latest attack. Storm assured you all the children got out safely, thank god. The estate took all the damage. The house had been rebuilt but the surrounding lands were… rough. Ripped-up roots and protruding rocks where gardens and trees once stood. The walls of the mansion were now bare of its usual sprawling ivy, freshly reconstructed for probably the dozenth time in its life— another failed attack from another ignorant enemy.

You look at the destroyed earth around you, the real reason you were here. This is why he called you.

Soil, dirt, and rocks were where your powers lie. You could move the earth itself, sense the minerals beneath your feet, see the world around you through the touch of stone. Dozer your friends called you when you first came here— short for Bulldozer . You always hated it but it’s unfortunately the name that stuck. Now it’s just… part of you.

You weren’t the best student. You were angry when you came here at the ripe age of 13 after a rather unconventional childhood. Things were done to you you could never forgive. In a lot of ways, you were still angry. Used by the people you should have trusted most. Seen as less than human. A tool. A mutant.

And that’s when Charles found you.

The Professor took you in when he had no obligation to— and you fought every step of the way. You realize now it was your fear acting out rather than anger. Still, you were an X-Man… for a while. You thought you found your place. It was a good few years but you wanted more. You wanted to prove the world wrong. Be more than just a mutant. People always say a life well lived is always the best revenge. That’s what you wanted, a good life you forged for yourself despite the world's hatred towards you— and you left the X-Men behind to do it.

Once an x-man, always an x-man, Charles told you the day you left. Maybe some part of that was true, but you didn’t feel like an X-man anymore. It was your own fault, really.

Months and years rolled on and picking up the phone just got harder and harder. Dropping by to say hello started feeling intrusive. And eventually, it just became easier to do nothing at all.

You stopped trying, but so did they.

No, that’s not true. Jean tried. Storm tried. A letter or two every year. Missed calls that never got returned. You don’t know why you did it… or didn’t do it. Maybe you thought it would hurt less if you just tried to close the book on that chapter of your life. Be a new person. Something without the X-Men. They didn’t need you anyway.

Really, it was probably that same fear from your teen years rearing its ugly head. Still that afraid, angry little girl.

But Charles called, and you answered, and now you’re here. You’re here to help them get back up.

You became a landscaper when you went off to make a name for yourself. Dirt was all you understood, as sad as that sounds. Still, it was work that made you happy. Funny how you left because you didn’t want your mutation to define you.

Charles treated it professionally like any other client would. The man didn’t expect charity and agreed to your usual fee plus an extra 50% to redo the escape tunnels under the mansion.

I can’t pick my home up and move it, but I do my best to keep people guessing about its secrets, was Charles's reasoning.

It was a big job. It would take you 2 weeks at least. Hopefully finishing up just in time for the returning students. You’d already been here 3 days and the emotional exhaustion was getting to you more than anything.

There was no ‘bad blood’ here. You were welcomed back with a chorus of cheers and endless hugs. It was… nice. Really nice. You did miss it here, you missed your old friends. Still, you couldn’t shake this feeling of disassociation stirring in your stomach. Yes, this was your home— your friends— but you’d alienated yourself. They’ve been nothing but kind to you and you still feel like a stranger because you left. You left and stopped trying and you’re refusing to try even now.

Why was this all so scary?

You're reshaping the east garden beds when you feel eyes on you for the dozenth time today. You turn to see him standing there on the 4th-floor balcony, overlooking the decimated gardens.

Logan .

You only met him a few days ago. The newest member of the X-Men. The Wolverine. You’d heard rumors about him before. Tales of the rage, someone more animal than man. You’re amazed Charles took in someone like him, but then again he took you in too.

You’d said less than 3 words to each other since you returned. When Scott introduced you he only gave a curt nod and lurked back into whatever corner he was occupying.

You noticed he liked to stay on the sidelines. Silently occupy space without participating. He was always there when you turned around— like a shadow. He liked watching you work, you think. You could sense him lingering outside of the tunnel entrance you started in the basement the other day. This is the 4th time you’ve caught him lingering today.

You give him a casual flip of the bird. He retreats back inside as soon as your eyes connect with his.

Fucking creep.

“Dozer!” Storm’s voice pulls you from your unplanned staring contest.

She and Jean step down into the rocky pit that was slowly starting to resemble a 3 tiered garden. You’d been working on the tunnels below the house since you got here, this was your first day outside. Even an Earthmover needed sunlight every once in a while. You couldn’t punch out your slew of confusing feelings in a dark hole in the ground forever.

Of course they’d ambush you as soon as you stepped outside.

“We have a surprise for you,” Jean announces proudly.

“What— Why?” is all you manage to say.

Idiot.

“What do you mean why?” Storm doesn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and march you out of your pit. “Come on, it’s up at the garage.”

You let them drag you there, reminding yourself that these are your friends. The ones that kept trying to let you in and you’ve been an elusive bitch to since you got here.

Try. Just try a little. They want you here. They do.

You’re guided, presumably to the garage, by Storm while Jean diligently holds her hands in front of your eyes.

“Please tell me it’s a new car,” You joke trying to lighten the mood. “My truck’s getting old.”

“Pfft, we don’t have that much money,” Jean nudges you slightly before you all come to a halt. She removes her hands.

It’s not a car. It’s flowers.

They’re absolutely beautiful. Hundreds of them in nursery trays laid out in front of the garage doors. Young blossoms but still vibrant with rainbows of color.

Despite your connection with the Earth you never had power over plants, but felt a kinship with them in a way. Both beings that thrived in the dirt was your best guess as to why. You could sense them, feel them in your own way. Your dorm was a practical jungle when you lived here. Hell, your apartment today still was.

A closer glance at the small garden reveals something more.

“It’s all your favorites,” Storm confirms, reaching down between the rows, “The ones we could remember at least. You had so many.”

She pulls out a bouquet, a small collection of the surrounding flowers. They must have made it themselves. Ororo hands it to you, her smile warm but her eyes sad in a way.

“Guys, I…” you choke out, pushing back the stinging tears.

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Jean strokes your shoulder, “The gardens are yours. A reflection of you… for the rest of us. This is your home, you get to leave your mark on it.”

“We’re happy you’re back,” Storm joins Jean in front of you, “We’re happy you're home.”

Wordlessly, you collapse into the two of them. You’d make an ass out of yourself if you tried to talk right now anyway.

Of course Jean knew how you were feeling. Of course Storm probably had the idea for this corny grand gesture. Of course, they missed you. They’re your oldest friends. Your sisters.

You’re home. This is okay. It’s all going to be okay.

__________

The sun has nearly set when you hear the garage door open from a distance, a fight echoing from inside.

“Logan, be reasonable!” You recognize Scott’s aggravated voice.

“You’re a goddamn coward,” the wolverine growls back. Jean informed you this is a regular occurrence between the two of them. You’re not surprised. Logan seemed difficult, to say the least.

You’re halfway up to the garage before you realize what you’re doing. What are you doing? Are you really going to try to break up a flight or just get a better spot for eavesdropping? There’s the roar of a motorcycle engine before you have time to decide.

“ Logan! ” Scott shouts one last time before Logan peels out of the garage— right through the rows of your flowers that rested there.

“HEY!” you shout after him. It’s no use, of course. He doesn’t bother to stop, already past the front gate by the time you reach the driveway.

Scotts stands there alone at the edge of the garage, his hand on his visor… contemplating.

“You’d have one witness if you're thinking about murder,” you make your presence known as you crouch down amongst the now mangled corpses of your garden.

Asshole.

“Shit,” Scott's posture drops, almost embarrassed. His demeanor had changed so much from that young man you knew. The leader of the X-Men, he took himself so seriously now. It was cute in a way only Scott Summers could pull off.

“What an asshole,” you rescue a box of untouched daisies. At least some of it was salvageable.

“You have no idea,” Scott joins you, finding what flowers could be saved, “I’m sorry. He’s… difficult.”

“What were you fighting about?” you dare to ask, more to distract yourself than anything.

Scott hesitates before he answers.

“We were attacked by an offshoot of the Trask Institute. Extremists we didn’t even know existed. They came out of nowhere, and they’re still out there,” You see him scowl, silently scolding himself for not knowing more as a leader. He’d do the same thing in training.

The person who always put the most pressure on Scott was never The Professor. It was just Scott.

“Anyway,” he continues, “We don’t have an exact location, but Logan wants to hunt them down. Take ‘em out at the source, ya know?”

“And you don’t wanna do that?”

“We’ve taken enough hits right now.” He adds a bushel of ivy to your pile, “Best to wait until we have our feet back under us… or if they provoke us again.”

“Wouldn’t be good to be caught with your pants down again, though.” It’s not your place to question him anymore, but you do it anyway.

“We’re monitoring them. They’re not a treat right now,” he lets out a deep sigh, shoulders dropping, “But that’s not good enough for Logan. He doesn’t plan. Just wants to go in guns blazing.”

“Ah, wild-west style.”

“Like I said… he’s difficult .”

“That seems like a nice way of saying an absolute dick .” you attempt to lighten the mood and simultaneously quell the anger stirring in your stomach. He’d ruined your gift, your welcome home present— and he probably didn’t even notice.

“He is a dick. A big one,” Scott scoffs, gaze lingering over the vegetative carnage, “I’m sorry he did this because of me…”

“Acts of random dickishness are not your fault, Summers.”

Scott actually smiles at that one.

“Did you like it at least? The flowers? The girls were so excited about it. We all wanted you to… never mind. You– you get it.”

You look at the mismatched rescues you’ve already gathered in your hands. Thank god you still had the bouquet in your room at least.

“Yeah, Scott. I loved them.”

He gives a reassuring nod. Scott wasn’t much for words. That’s okay, you didn’t expect him to be. Yes, he’s the leader but there’s still so much of that quiet boy you see in him.

“Logan will probably be gone for the night. I’ll talk to him when he gets back. I’ll fix this, Doze.” Scott assures you, that leadership role dropping so easily into place. Charles made the right choice with him.

“That’s okay, Scott. I’ll take care of it myself.”

__________

Scott was right, Logan doesn’t come back until the following afternoon. You’re on the mansion's north side with Charles, showing him your layout plans, when you hear the roar of that stupid bike again.

“Sorry, Charles,” you quickly step away from your old mentor, “I have to handle something.”

“I hope you won’t be ruining my grounds even further while you handle this,” Charles tuts disapprovingly, completely aware of Logan’s transgressions from the previous night. Being psychic, he was no doubt also completely aware of just how angry you were. Jean did say your thoughts are loud after all. Still, he lets you go without another word.

This guy had been nothing but a creep to you since you got here, stacking more anxiety on top of your already overflowing insecurities. Strutting around like he owned the place. Looking at you like a piece of meat. You’d seen too many men like him in your life. He needs to be knocked down a peg.

“Hey!” You have his attention as soon as he kills the engine. He rolls his eyes as he lazily tilts his head in your direction.

“What, sweetheart?” his face is painted over with an arrogance that was just begging to be slapped off.

You’ll happily oblige.

Kicking your heel into the dirt you send a wave through the ground. A small pillar of rock shoots up under the bike. It falls under the sudden jolt, and so does Logan along with it. The shock on his face was already worth it.

“What the hell?!” He sneers as he crawls out from under the bike.

“Why don’t you watch where you're driving next time, asshole,” You dare to take a step forward. He scrambles to his feet, a metallic ring following the movements.

Ah, there they are— the infamous metal claws. Now these you’ve heard stories about.

“That is quite enough,” Charles rolls up behind you, “I will not have this boorish display of dominance on my property.”

To his credit, Logan is the first one to drop his defenses. He sheaths his claws with an irritated shrug.

“Don’t know what the hell I did for any of this crap,” He practically mumbles. You resist the urge to throw a pebble at his head.

“You wrecked my garden!” You can practically feel the ground vibrating in your anger.

Logan looks down at his feet, remnants of the flora he’d unknowingly destroyed still scattered across the dirt.

“Hell of a place for a garden, toots,” he scoffs, kicking at the now withered flowers, “What you want an apology, then?”

You kick another small wave towards him. He catches himself on the shaking ground this time, only giving a scowl your way.

“Enough!” Charles comes between you. “If you insist on behaving like children, then you will be treated like children.”

“He started it!” against your better judgment you mockingly point a finger at Logan. Charles only offers a disappointed shake of the head.

Once a student, always a student.

Charles addresses you first, “You have my permission to use school funds to purchase more garden supplies, and I apologize on behalf of my newest pupil since he seems to be incapable of doing it himself. They were a gift after all,” he turns to Logan, “And you will take her to get them.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

Both you and Logan protest at the same time.

“If you insist on protesting then I’d like to remind you I can always make you do it in different ways,” It’s an empty threat, of course. One of his favorite tactics to use. You remember him making the same kind to you when you were a student. He sighs before making his way back inside the mansion, “I will not have more petty rivalries in this house at a time like this. See it done… Today.”

You’re left alone together, both staring down at your feet like scolded children. Well into your adulthood you’re still finding ways to disappoint Charles Xavier. You’re ashamed you let your anger get the better of you again. You thought you were past this. Better than this.

Logan may have been an ass, but he was an X-man too. A friend of your friends. You didn’t even give him a chance to fix this before you came barreling in fists first. Still, you don’t really regret it either…

Fine.

With a deep sigh, you’re the first to concede.

“I have a truck.”

Logan hesitates for a moment before finally looking you in the eye.

“I’ll drive.”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

The drive to the Westchester Greenhouse was tense and completely silent. Now he’s following three paces behind you like a giant angry shadow. The sweet grandmas perusing the hydrangeas take one look at him looming behind you and change rows. It’s hilarious if you're being honest. You’d cooled down over the drive, you’re not entirely sure he has. Every step he takes is tense, you can feel it through the damp concrete floor.

You wonder if he’s aware of how intimidating he is. He has to be. That or he truly didn’t care. From what little you knew about this man it’s probably a bit of both.

“I don’t get why we’re here,” his gruff voice surprises you, “Can’t you just… grow more?”

“I can’t grow things,” you respond, placing a tray of tiger lilies in your cart, “Just move dirt.”

He hums and looks away in response. This was getting painful. If Charles insisted on sending you both out on this stupid little team-building exercise then you might as well try a little… for Charles.

“I can’t grow plants but I can… feel them.” You continue.

To your surprise, he actually responds. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Maybe ‘ I can kinda talk to pants’ isn’t the best icebreaker topic but it’s a start. You look around rows of greenery, your attention landing on a crudely drawn sign that reads ‘ Man-Eating Plants. ’ Perfect. Most basic nurseries never knew how to take care of carnivorous plants properly.

“Here I’ll show you,” you walk over to the small section of venus fly traps. Your suspicions were correct. Brown-tipped leaves and shriveled black heads could be spotted on nearly every plant. They’d repotted them in all-purpose soil without a second thought.

“Don’t tell me you can talk to them.” Logan comes to stand next to you.

“No, nothing like that. But look,” you point at the crisping leaves of one plant. “They’re over-fertilized. They get their nutrients from bugs, not the soil. They’re roots don’t like what’s in the dirt and I can… feel that. So then I talk to the dirt.”

Logan raises an amused brow. You’re not entirely sure if it’s mocking or genuinely curious.

“So whaddya do ‘bout that?” he probes.

Curious it is. You take a quick glance around, making sure no one is close enough to see. Thankfully the massive scary man at your side and some towering majesty palms are enough cover for you.

“We take out what they don’t like in the soil. And what’s soil and fertilizer but some specific minerals.”

You’d first gotten the idea when you’d heard Magneto could rip iron directly out of people's blood. If his powers could be so precise, why not yours? It took years to master. You practiced by dumping table salt on the yard and trying to only summon the granules to your hands.

Same concept here.

You hold your hand over the small carnivorous beasts, feeling the small pellets of fertilizer mixed into their soil. You can feel the specific minerals and separate them out. Steadily, tiny pellets hovered out of each pot in neat rows and gathered above your hand. Once gathered you clench your open palm into a fist, the pellets gathering into one solid rock the size of a golf ball.

“There,” the mineral-dense rock drops into your hand, “Come back in a month and I guarantee these guys will be doing better.”

“Oh, I’m never coming back here,” despite the bitterness of his words, Logan says them with a smile. He’s teasing you.

“Well then,” you turn to him and place the rock in his jacket’s breast pocket, “There, a little souvenir to remember your forced trip to the greenhouse for being a jerk.”

You’re walking back to the cart before he has a chance to respond. The air feels lighter between the two of you now. You don’t like that you had to be the bigger person when he’s clearly been the one in the wrong but… it’s something, you guess.

Your little demonstration reminds you that you need better-treated soil if you’re going to make these gardens work. The ground around the mansion was fine but they needed something ritcher to give the plants a good head start. You could mix the soil yourself from around the area but it was infinitely easier to get already prepared bags of it here. Just a few for the topsoil should be fine. Charles said this was all on him, after all.

You stop in front of the stacked bags of various soil mixes. You reach for the general outdoor plant mix. Logan’s hand beats yours to the fuschia pink labeled bag, pulling it off the stack and tossing it over his shoulder.

“How many?” he asks, emotionless.

“Uh… let’s start with five?”

He grabs two more and effortlessly stacks them on his shoulder. He holds the other two in his free hand. He stands there holding over a hundred pounds of dirt like it’s nothing.

“Okay, what next?”

The sun is starting to set when you make your way back to the manor. The air between the two of you is decidedly less tense but it’s still painfully silent. There was… progress made. You didn’t hate him anymore and hopefully he would treat your property with more care from now on. He tried, in the only way stoic men like him can. Not with words, but with small actions. Carrying bags of dirt for hours, shooing you away from loading the truck and doing it all himself, opening the car door for you. For some reason actually saying ‘sorry’ was always so much harder than just showing you he was sorry.

You got it. Your father and brothers were the same. You wonder if he was a military man too.

That doesn’t change the fact that you hadn’t apologized either. Yes, he’d wrong you first, but you provoked him without warning. Actions instead of just talking like an adult. Yeah, actions were always easy for people like you.

And in your own fucked up little way, you’d made him the subject of your anxieties. He was new here, you’d made yourself an outcast. They all clearly adored him despite his rugged nature. Charles so clearly wanted to help this man who was too skittish to be helped. It reminded you of someone else…

You could extend the metaphorical olive branch. Offer something that resembled friendship. That’s why Charles sent you out here, but you’re going to do it your own way.

Somewhere that holds a lot of memories is coming up on the right, and you could use a drink. The sudden turn off the road jolts Logan from his empty gazing out the window.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” He reaches for the center console, shooting you a glare. You hold back a smile, “This isn’t the way back to the school.”

“We’re not going back to the school,” You pull into an all too familiar parking lot, a red neon sign already lit up reading ‘Stevie’s Bar ‘n’ Grill’ illuminates the windshield. You’d snuck over here at least a dozen times when you were in school.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“What?” He smirks with a raise of the eyebrow. He does that a lot, you've noticed.

“Look, I—” You take a breath and shift the car into park. You can do this, it’s just words, “I wasn’t fair. You did a shitty thing, yeah, but you didn’t know. And I came at you with no explanation.”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs jokingly, trying to lighten the mood you’ve suddenly soured. It works. You smile.

“It’s… weird. Being back,” you’re grip on the wheel tightens ever so slightly in an attempt to ground yourself, “I don’t expect you to understand this, but it’s weird coming back to a place you called home and feeling like a stranger. Despite everything your friends are saying, you just feel wrong there. I tried to take my insecurities out on you Logan. I’m sorry.”

The bloated silence that settles between the two of you doesn’t help, but you can’t blame him. What was he supposed to say after you just bared part of your soul? You’re not expecting an apology but it hurts a little when he hops out of the truck. You’re about to yell after him when he rounds the front and comes to your door. He opens it and leans in closer than you’d like.

“How about I buy you a drink then?” There’s that stupid smirk of his again, “You said it yourself, I did a shitty thing. You drug me out here to clean up my mess, wrecked your little welcome home present Jean wouldn’t shut up about. I owe you a drink, toots.”

He leans in a little closer. You can smell the cigar smoke on him, probably embedded into his clothes at this point. It’s not an apology. Not really.

It’s an olive branch.

__________

It’s exactly the same. Old country on the jukebox, dirty floors, old tattooed lady bartenders that wouldn’t hesitate to knock someone out if they tried something. Funny how little hole-in-the-wall places like this never change. You’re grateful for it.

You and Logan huddled into the farthest booth in the corner away from the commotion. His beer’s already half gone by the time you’re on your second sip. Somehow you’re not surprised.

“How the hell did Charles get stuck with you?” You laugh as he wipes away the suds from his stubble.

“Funny, I could ask you the same.”

You playfully kick him under the table and he thankfully laughs it off. He had a nice smile… you suppose.

“He drug me in kicking and screaming,” You take another sip, glancing at the kitchen door in hopes the fries you ordered were coming. Logan leans forward, waiting for you to continue. “I… ran away from my birth family. Was on the streets for probably six months before he found me. I was thirteen.”

“That’s the most boring way to tell a probably good story I’ve ever heard,” He says before taking another gulp.

“Oh, please tell me your life story then, Mr. Wolverine.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, we’d be here a while, Darlin’.”

Well… if he was asking about you.

“I was born in Guam… I think. We moved almost every year. Mom died before I even had memories. Was brought up by a Colonel in the army and two brothers.”

“Military brat. Should have guessed.” You kick him under the table again, “Explains the temper too I guess.”

“Well, a military upbringing with a bunch of boys’ll do that.”

When was the last time you told someone about your life? And why was it so easy to tell him? He holds your gaze for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat.

“Why’d you run away then?” He asks.

“Oh, you’re gonna need a lot more alcohol in me for that, fella.” you skillfully evade the question. Maybe it wasn’t so easy to tell him everything .

“That can be arranged,” waves at the waitress, signaling for another round. You look at his practically empty mug and you're still practically full one— and still no fries. God help you.

“Your turn,” you prompt him, “Tell me something about you.”

His posture tenses.

“Not much to tell, sweetheart.”

“Where were you born?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Okay, where’d you grow up?”

“Same answer.”

“Did you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening, “Like I said, it’s a long story… but I’m missing a lot of details. It’s not worth listening to, I promise.”

You suddenly feel bad for snooping so much. He had a boundary, and that was fine. Just because you were so keen on sharing doesn’t mean he has to be.

The waitress delivers your next round along with a greasy basket of fries. Logan is the first to reach for one.

“You said Chuck drug you in kicking and screaming?” His eyes soften again, “I guess he did with me too.”

He’s trying to be friendly. Trying to be a little gentler.

“Oh?” you gently prod him to continue.

“I’m not…” he runs his hand through his pointed hair, “I wasn’t a good man… the parts I can remember. And Chuck gave me a chance. I don’t like it all the time… bein’ somewhere I don’t belong. I run. It’s what I do. But they keep havin’ me back. So… I get it.”

You suspect he hasn’t told anyone this, but he’s saying it to you. He chose you to trust for some reason. Your heart clenches.

You thumb at the handle of your still mostly full beer next to another waiting one, unsure of how to continue. You both started with the heavy shit, so there was only one way to go now. You came here to clear the air… but you also came here to drink. You take the mug and raise it to Logan.

“To the class fuck ups then.”

__________

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to buy you six drinks on a practically empty stomach. To be fair, you didn’t admit that you’d skipped lunch until drink four and by then the fries were gone and the kitchen was closed. Half a basket of fries wasn't a good substitute dinner, it turns out. Not so much a lightweight as just an idiot, but everyone’s a lightweight compared to Logan. Perk of a healing factor is he can sober up pretty damn quick when he needs to. Practically had to wrestle the keys out of your hands while you were stumbling your way back to the truck.

Cute how you thought you could put up a fight. He carried you the rest of the way to the truck, you giggling the whole way. Funny how he didn’t really mind either.

So used to drinking alone, he’d forgotten what it was like to do it with someone else. All the comradery that came with it and a few sloppy games of pool too. Kurt wasn’t much for booze, unfortunately. Hank, Jean, and Storm were always too damn busy to relax, and Scott… like hell he’d have a drink with Scott.

But this was all your idea. You brought him to a shitty bar, shared a little bit yourself with him and now he was driving you home while you poorly slurred along with whatever was playing on the radio.

And he didn’t mind one bit.

He didn’t know what to make of you when you first came. They all talked about you with such admiration whenever your name came up… which was all the damn time. You were quiet, skittish almost. Kept your nose down and got to work immediately.

He recognized what you were doing right away.

Logan understood what it was like to be part of something and feel like a stranger. Hell, that’s all he’d ever been. Just someone passing through until the X-Men. He’s still learning how to do it. Be part of something. He meant it when he said he wasn’t a good man, but he’s a better man than he was. He wouldn’t have that without Charles.

And here you come, someone who had it all and left it behind just to try to be normal out in the world. The one thing people like you could never be. Yeah, he really got it.

You admitted you were an angry kid in your drunken ramblings. He has a hard time picturing you that way— a little rebel. You shied away from talking more about personal things. Your family and whatever the hell else that past life entailed. He didn’t pry, didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than he already had. Instead, the conversation drifted into one of those that’s about everything and nothing at all. Just sharing drinks with a friend kind of conversation.

He liked it… having someone to talk to.

You’re finishing up belting Bohemian Raposesty when he finally pulls into the driveway of the mansion.

“Shows over, rockstar,” he announces as he kills the engine.

“Boooo!” You weakly protest as soon as the radio dies, “Killjoy!”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, getting out and walking over to your door. You slump out of the seat as soon as he opens it, “Come on, princess.”

You’re slumped over, curled up into the flannel he offered as a blanket. He pulls you into his arms, deciding it’d be easier to just carry you straight to bed rather than herd you up the steps. God he hopes everyone’s gone to bed by now, otherwise he’s probably going to get an earful for getting their precious darling drunk.

“You’re like the firemen… in those calendars…” you slur as he pushes through the front door, “Or a lumberjack. With those chops, you have to be a lumberjack.”

He holds back a laugh at your girlish ramblings. To his relief, no one is in the foyer. He quickly hikes up the stairs, squirming drunk girl in hand. You were already dozing off by the time he reached the top of the stairs.

Thank god.

“Whoa, deja vu,” you rub your hands down your face, “I feel like 'm 16 again. We did this all the time back ‘n the day.”

“Yeah? Who carried you to bed then?” your door is in sight.

“The Professor.” you jokingly wheeze out without hesitation. “Guy loves his brandy.”

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Logan scoots past your door, careful of your head. He lays you down on the bed gently, you don’t protest. He carefully unlaces your shoes while you squirm into the covers.

“Y’know, yer nicer than I thought you’d be.” You can’t even keep your eyes open now.

“That right?” Logan smiles to himself as he pulls one sneaker off.

“Mmhmm,” you nod, nuzzling your head into the pillow, “Funny, I thought the Wolverine would be so scary.”

He cringes a little at your words. He won’t hold them against you, not in this state.

“I’m very scary.”

You blow a raspberry before continuing, “No yer not! You're just a guy. A hunky, lumberjack guy who hates flowers.”

“I don’t hate flowers.”

“Right… just my flowers.”

“Yeah, just your flowers,” he pulls off the other shoe. Your feet immediately shoot up into the covers. He smooths a comforting hand over your hip. It makes him happier than it should when you don’t flinch away.

“You need anything else, darlin’?”

“Stop doin’ that,” You groan into the pillow.

“Stop what?”

“Makin’ me blush with your dumb pet names.” You admit, “Stop it.”

He smiles to himself, a familiar warm feeling rising in his stomach. He’ll leave you be for tonight. Best to wait until you're sober to ask what you mean by that anyway, if only to watch you blush a little more.

“I’ll leave you be then,” he almost feels regret when he stands off of the bed. Almost. You were drunk. Tired. There was nothing more to be said tonight.

He drags your empty trash can over to the side of the bed, just in case, and fills a glass of water for you too.

“I had fun tonight,” He says before walking towards the door. Your voice makes him pause.

“Logan?” you call out like a scolded child.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t actually hate my flowers, do you?”

“No, darlin’. I don’t hate your flowers.”

He makes sure to turn off the light and close the door behind him.

__________

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