#had to fully trust the process and nothing else

[ashthesalamipiece]

hey ash can i please request soemthing? a katsuki bakugo x female reader they are married and reader is like extremely weak? like physically and she got pregnant-a high risk one the type where the doctor would say to consider a abortion? something like that? you dont have to do this Just a request from a fellow follower love your works they are chaotic and love them :)

Hii mll♡

Of you can request anything I appreciate ittt♡

I hope this is up to your expectations♡

---

"Stronger Than You Know"

Bakugo had never imagined himself the marrying type—at least not back when he was the hotheaded teen with a short fuse and a tunnel vision for victory. But somehow, you had wormed your way into his life with gentle hands and soft words, the exact opposite of everything he used to think he needed.

He used to think strength was everything.

But then he married you.

You weren’t strong like him. Not in the way that counted for most people. Your body was fragile, your energy limited, and your constitution was nothing short of worrying. Some days, he’d carry you from the bed to the couch because your muscles trembled too much. He always did it without complaint, though he grumbled under his breath just to keep up appearances. You’d laugh and call him a softie, and he’d call you a brat.

But he never once resented it. Not once.

Because you were the only one who could make him feel calm. Needed. Loved.

So when you told him you were pregnant, his reaction was… complicated.

He stared at you for a full minute before the words even processed. You were sitting on the couch in one of his old shirts, fingers wringing the hem, face pale and eyes a little wet. You’d looked scared—not of him, but for yourself. For the tiny, forming life inside of you.

And he felt like the ground tilted beneath him.

You were already so delicate. The idea of you carrying a child—his child—through nine months of hellish strain made his stomach twist in fear.

Of course, the hospital visit only made things worse.

“The pregnancy is high-risk,” the doctor said, voice carefully neutral. “Your body might not handle it. If complications arise, it could be fatal… for both of you.”

You’d gripped Bakugo’s hand then. He could still feel how cold your fingers were. The doctor kept talking, listing options, risks, and the word he hated more than anything in that moment: abortion.

Bakugo didn't speak. He didn’t trust himself to.

The moment you two left the office, you waited until you were in the safety of his car to finally whisper, “Katsuki… what should we do?”

He didn’t answer right away. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“Do you… want to keep it?” he finally asked, voice low.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I want to try. Even if I’m scared.”

He looked at you for a long time. Your face was full of fear and hope, all tangled together. You weren’t strong—at least not in the way people measured it. But he had never seen someone braver.

“You’re not doing this alone,” he said, turning fully to face you. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. I’ll be there for every damn second.”

You gave him a watery smile, and he kissed you before you could say anything else.

---

The following months were hard.

You were in and out of the hospital more times than either of you could count. Bakugo adjusted his patrol schedule, sometimes canceling it altogether just to sit beside you during check-ups. The staff got used to seeing the pro hero sitting with you, his scarred hands cradling yours, whispering quiet reassurances that didn’t match his usual brash image.

There were nights he’d sit beside your bed, wide awake while you slept restlessly. He’d talk to your belly when you were too tired to stay conscious, his voice low and steady.

“Your mom’s the toughest damn person I know, you hear me?” he’d mutter, fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. “She’s stronger than any hero out there.”

Sometimes the fear crept in.

Like when you collapsed while walking across the kitchen.

Or when the doctors said your blood pressure was too high again.

Or when they prepared an emergency bag “just in case.”

But you always pulled through. Even when your body screamed and the world felt like it was stacked against you, you kept going.

Because you had a reason now. A heartbeat you heard on fuzzy monitors. A future wrapped in warmth and baby clothes folded neatly in drawers. And Katsuki’s hand, always there. Always strong. Always steady.

---

The birth wasn’t easy. It was a blur of beeping machines, sterile white lights, and a level of panic Katsuki never wanted to experience again.

They rushed you in after you started bleeding—too much, too fast.

He wasn’t allowed in the OR.

He punched a wall.

Paced like a caged animal.

Nearly lost it when a nurse asked him to “stay calm.”

But then—

A baby’s cry.

And the nurse came out.

“A girl,” she said. “She’s healthy. And your wife… she made it. She’s going to be okay.”

Bakugo didn’t remember sitting down, but he did.

Didn’t remember the tears, but they came.

When they let him in, you were pale, exhausted, barely awake—but smiling. And in your arms was the tiniest, angriest baby he had ever seen.

“She’s got your scowl,” you whispered hoarsely.

He looked down at the two of you—his whole world in one hospital bed—and something in him broke open.

He kissed your forehead.

“You scared the shit out of me, idiot.”

You laughed weakly. “Worth it?”

He looked at the baby again, who had just punched the air in protest.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, it was.”

[presbierue]

A lot of fan material tends to portray Phasma and Hux as a Jock-Nerd friendship and that’s a fair interpretation. I’m still on high school musical plotline though so I think they’re actually both jock-nerd. Phasma befriended and trusted Hux out of everyone in the First Order because he was specifically a nerd; all the other jocks like Brendol trying to get her on side had nothing to offer her. She isn’t going to fight if she doesn’t have to so she would appreciate someone playing smarter not harder (and not dragging her into unnecessary drama) but also someone gifted in areas she doesn’t have. Armitage seems like he’d be up till 2 on a computer but still knock out the running portions of sports day. He just gets his butt handed to him in physical contact sports so no one notices he’s good at other areas. Phasma can probably hit like a train but she is weighed down so speed isn’t her forte. If she’s the best hitter though, she doesn’t need another hitter; she needs someone to run ahead and scout the landscape out.

Long way of saying I read them as complimentary to each other rather than contrasts. They use the contrasting elements to remove the appearance of nuance/individual identity that lets them have a meaningful relationship while simultaneously maintaining the fascist power dynamic they benefit from. But it’s like puzzle pieces; they’re built differently but support the others purpose.

In fics/non canon materials, Kylo could interrupt this almost-healthy dynamic with emotionality; he doesn’t have to worry about intellect/physicality because he can just flatten his enemies with his feelings. This creates an imbalance. As a result he can act as a kind of lover/weird power dynamic interloper, but is never quite a peer or friend to either. This is because he embodies something Phasma and Hux cannot relate to; the raw ability to publicly act on emotions (Hux/Phasma need to keep the Stormtroopers and old power structures on board with plans, so they have to keep the cold logical Imperial dream alive). Which makes for some interesting dynamics; Kylo is impulsive and liable to go off the immediate emotions around him which he always feels in the Force. He may flatten an officer who was frustrating Phasma because Kylo can FEEL her frustration and humiliation but harms Hux in the process because he still needed that officer for a project. And then how do Phasma and Hux perceive someone who ruins their game plans but provides them with instant gratification; someone who prioritizes how they feel over strategy and The Order? They’re probably liable to send Kylo constant mixed signals; I love that you love me but hate you for ruining this for me. And Snoke loves this toxic cycle that simultaneously encourages Kylo’s dependency on the Order but never fully gives him what he wants (to feel appreciated, validated, cared for, deserving of Vaders legacy, etc). Kylo will never attempt to grow intellectually or physically because that’s not his lane, but it keeps him at arms length with Phasma and Hux because he can never really understand them and what makes them tick. And Phasma and Hux are never able to actually process their emotions in a healthy way because someone else does something about them before they’re even aware of them.

I’m not a 100% lover of every choice made in Delilah Dawson’s Phasma. But I do like that Phasma used a beetle to kill Brendol. I know it was in a very ‘you aren’t strong enough to live through what I did’ way but I also like to think that Phasma just really likes bugs. Bug girl. Keeps a couple terrariums of bugs in her room. Feeds them small fuzzy creatures. Someone pissing her off really badly but she can’t do anything public? Poisonous spider in their bed. Flesh eating beetle in their boots. Millicent ate her favourite millipede? She is going to act above it but cry in private later.

I do not think she and Armitage are good at conversations. I think they probably just sit down sometimes and she lists facts about an insect she got on her last mission like the phylum and its lifecycle. And he just nods along and figures out how to build a new terrarium for it. Like he does not know how to say anything comforting but he CAN make his best friend a terrarium that lets her keep developing her collection of poisonous/shiny insects.

[sincerealev]

"I am the quiet you've been longing for."

THE devil's minion moment ever. S2 episode 5 how I love you

(lineart, sketch, and an extra sketch I discarded before doing this one below)

[lucifermonsii]

Barrage x M!Reader

err sub reader n dom barrage hehehe (this man needs more fic.) Reader accidentally drinks Barrage's "milk"

It was a nice day, or so you thought. After a long day of training you've grown tired and exhausted, wanting nothing more but just to go grab a glass of water— or basically any type of liquid at this point. Eventually after some reps at a pull bar in the training room you've decided to head to your little office that had a mini fridge which you've kept tucked beneath a book shelve, it was cute and convenient. To be honest every high ranked officer had a pretty nice office, and lucky for you you've just been promoted to a chief warrant officer. Talk about the perks. Upon your arrival you're met with a familiar face who seems to be sitting on your couch with his feet on your coffee table, Barrage. Typical. Sometimes you'd wish you didn't give him the keys to your office. But what could you do? He was your best friend after all. The masked man stared at you through his shades, holding a monster can in one hand as he sits there. "The fuck are you doing in my office-" You scoffed at him before closing the office door behind you, shaking your head before you headed over to your mini fridge and crouched down to see what was left behind after Barrage's looting session. A singular glass of white liquid substance— to what you assumed was milk. What was that doing in your mini fridge? "Eh, why not? I'm tired of training rookies all day.." He murmurs before taking a sip of the carbonated beverage though the fabric of his balaclava as he glances over at you through his dark shades, although you couldn't really see his eyes you could feel his gaze upon you. The very gaze you've grown used to over the years. Your eyes lingers on the glass of milk for a moment too long, contemplating whether it was one of Barrage's trick or just a drink he kept for you. You've known this man long enough to know he isn't one to trust. Knowing his usual cheeky antics and tricks. "Barrage, why's there a glass of milk in my fridge?" You asked as you look over at him, now standing properly with the glass of milk in your hand as you waited for his answer. His gaze lingers on yours for a while before he answers. "Hm? Saved it for you, know you'd get thirsty.." Was all he said before looking forward and finishing off his beverage with a swig and placing the empty aluminum can on the coffee table before getting up and stretching, groaning in the process before his arms fell back to his sides. "Alright then.." You said slowly, gently swirling the glass in your hand as the white substance swirls in the glass slowly. It was unusually thick and a bit transparent for a milk, but what else can you drink after he finished your whole stock? So without a second thought you began to drink it. "I wasn't done talking." He says as he heads over to you, seeing as you've already chugged the whole glass and wiped off the access on your lips using your hands. "What is it..? The fuck did you do." You replied sternly as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, face slightly grimacing at the slightly thick liquid you had just swallowed down your throat. Turning around to look at him face to face. You weren't short no, in fact both of you are the same height— Is what you say knowing that he's just an inch taller. "It's not just any milk— its my milk." The male grins smugly before breaking into laughter, clutching his stomach as strings of giggles and snickers left his mouth uncontrollably. You on the other hand was absolutely disgusted. Eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as you stared at him, baffled and straight up speechless before your eyes glanced back at the now empty glass of semen in your hand. "BARRAGE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" You shouted at him, face flushed with embarrassment as your mind came to realize what you had done— Coughing, trying to get the liquid out of your throat was no use now since it had been fully digested. ⋆⭒˚.⋆ "you're so fucking disgusting.."

You hissed at him, pink tinted your cheeks as you kept a firm tone and your guards up— although you knew the whole experience had you aroused, the damn pervert you call your best friend made you drink his semen? God damn you were a sick person for enjoying it.. "your flushed face tells me other wise.." Was all he mused before letting go of your jaw to dip his thumb into the corner of your mouth, smearing the thick white liquid from your mouth to the corner of your lips. Grinning to see that you still had some of it inside to indulge in the salty taste. "hm, who's the pervert now?" he says before wiping it off on your cheek and lifted his balaclava just above his nose to give you a kiss. Dragging the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip to gain entrance, to which you eagerly complied. Gaze hazed as he hums into the kiss, pushing you further against the wall as one of his hands found their way beneath the fabric of your shirt, his rough, calloused fingers drags their way along your toned— muscular physique as they found their way to the dip of your hip, keeping a grip there as his other hand made it's way to grip the side of your chest— slightly squeezing onto the soft, firm flesh before pulling away from the kiss. Staring down at you through half lidded eyes through his dark shades. "fuck you." You grumbled back to him as you gripped onto his waist, pulling him further more against your body as you kissed him again. This time a bit more gentle than before. Tongues intertwined with one another as both of his hands slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt and slide your shirt up until it reached above your chest, exposing your tone torso to him as his thumbs were on your pecs— flicking over your nipples as his other hand went to grab the side of your waist, his whole arm around it as he deepens the kiss further. Grinding against you with no shame while your hands held him by his back. "now, be a good boy and turn around for me yeah sweetheart?" he whispered ever so sweetly into your ear as he pulled away from the kiss. God damn it. ⋆⭒˚.⋆ slow lewd claps of skin slapping against skin fills your office as he had your legs parted, pants long pooling at your ankles as his grith slowly pushes in and out of your tight heat with ease. Soft, hushed grunt and whimpers escapes your lips as he pries your thighs further apart while he had you pushed against the wall. One hand on the front of your thigh that meets the groin and the muscle as his other hand cupped one of your pecs— squeezing it every so often to have you hushed. "you're doin' so good baby.. all for me hm?" he muses against your neck, his warm breath fanning over it with every grunt and sigh escapes his lips while he fucked you ever so gently. Feeling his member stretch you out as the tip grazes your sweet spot with each thrust, your own cock standing hard and erect helplessly as the leaking tip stains the wallpaper walls of your own office. "god damn you're so tight.. squeezing around my cock like there's no tomorrow huh? don't be greedy now, we have all night.." (i reached the words limit)

[fangswbenefits]

Tension

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel walks in on you late at night doing something unexpected, which makes things really awkward afterwards…

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

𓂅 𓄹 Warnings: 18+!!!. Dark Miguel. Pining. Increasing sexual tension. Masturbation. Oral sex. Breeding kink. Creampie. Cumplay. Size kink. Fangs. This is very filthy… you’ve been warned.

𓂅 𓄹 Words: 3k

In the dark of night your thoughts were your own.

You had absolute freedom to indulge in your desires and quenching that thirst that had been consuming you as of late.

A deep sigh left your left as one hand slid inside your panties, seeking to offer a much needed comfort. Your eyes were glued shut and in the dark of your mind, you had a blank canvas to paint an erotic scenario that would be effective.

His face came up first as the pad of your fingers began circling your swollen clit.

How you wished it could be his long and slender fingers instead.

Red eyes watching you intently as he slowly but surely built up your orgasm.

Wet sounds began to fill your ears as two fingers entered your soaked pussy. A sudden gasp left your parted lips as your mind tried its best to keep the illusion alive.

Your fingers were promptly replaced with his. Back arched and heat quickly spreading across your entire body almost snapped you out of it, but had become quite accustomed to this late night endeavour.

In your mind, Miguel O’hara was a pleaser when it came to intimacy. All his walls would crumble at the prospect of bringing pleasure to his partner.

There was nothing you could do about this.

You craved him more than anything.

More than anyone.

In your mind, he would go for a third finger, just so he could properly prepare you to take all of him.

“Fuck…” you moaned as you pictured him struggling to make it fit.

Your walls clenched around your fingers wishing it would be his cock instead. That bulge left nothing to the imagination. He had to be well endowed.

Soon enough, your mind had you see a flash of his fangs.

Miguel was a predator.

And, in your mind, he would not shy away from baring them as a clear sign of control.

“Miguel…” his name rolled out of your tongue too easily. “Miguel… please…”

Your other hand came to fondle one breast through your shirt wishing it would be him instead.

“Migueeeel, squad 239 is ready for briefing.”

That voice…

Your eyes snapped open as your senses detected someone else in the room. Before you could fully process what was going on, your instincts kicked in and you grabbed your webshooters from the nightstand, ejecting twin strings of solid web at the tall figure in the dark.

Two thin flashes of red and orange tore through air, effectively tearing the webstrings to pieces.

“I’ll be right there.”

You audibly gasped, removing your soaked hand from your underwear.

Miguel O’Hara.

You let out a shriek, hurrying yourself to pull the covers up to your neck, preserving some of your modesty… or what was left of it.

Lyla’s hologram turned to face you. “Oh? Are you okay?”

You could only nod, not trusting yourself to speak any words.

“What did you do to her, Miguel?”

The eyes on his eyes narrowed. “Lyla…”

She ignored him. “Want me to check your vitals?”

“No!” you immediately panicked.

“Lyla,” Miguel’s stern voice was heard again.

The obnoxious assistant appeared next to you in a heartbeat and you were blinded by her orange beam as she scanned you.

“Pupils fully dilated, heart rate at 123 beats per minute, temperature rising, respiratory rate at 20 breaths per minute…” she tapped her chin pensively. “Did you just run a marathon?”

Before you could come up with a ridiculous lie, Miguel intervened. “Lyla, that’s enough. Inform them I’ll be right there.”

She adjusted her pink glasses. “Ooookay!” she chirped before disappearing.

Miguel was fully covered in his suit, his mask hiding whatever thoughts he might have on what he had just witnessed.

It felt like hours as he stood there in silence, facing you.

Fuck.

He had definitely heard you…

“Miguel…”

You thought you saw him take a step towards you, but maybe your vision was betraying you as he turned around instead, and jumped through the open window.

Flashes of his red webbing tore through the night sky like lightning.

Your travel watch suddenly beeped on your wrist, alerting you to catch some sleep.

Out of sheer frustration you ripped it off and threw it across the room with such force that it hit a wall crumbled into pieces.

“You look absolutely terrible, girl.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

Jessica Drew had been a good mentor to you ever since you first joined eight months ago, so you gave her a pass.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the early morning commotion of a few spiders getting some breakfast.

She kept eyeing you with interest. “Rough night?”

“I guess,” you mumbled, before bringing the spider-man themed glass to your lips and taking a sip.

“Because of Miguel?”

You nearly choked on the orange juice, sending a spray across the table that Jess easily avoided.

“W-what?” you stuttered panic came crashing in like a wave. “Miguel?”

Did she know?

She arched an eyebrow. “I mean… he’s been kinda pushy lately, so it adds to the stress.”

Relief poured down on you and you sank into your chair. “Oh, yeah, yeah…”

“I think it’s time he settles, you know?” she carried on, rubbing and staring at her belly with adoration. “Having a family might help him more than he thinks.”

Last night, this topic might have come in handy as a new unlocked fantasy of yours: having Miguel O’hara’s children.

But today, the mention of him at all had your stomach doing somersaults.

“Heeeeey!”

You jumped in your seat and your heart skipped a couple of beats.

“Lyla, you need to stop popping up like that. You’re gonna scare someone to death one day.”

“I do this all the time witn Miguel just to annoy him,” she beamed happily as she started hovering closer to you. “He wants to see you.”

“Speak of the devil…” Jess drawled out with a yawn, taking a bite off an apple.

“Me? Me?” You felt your life drain from your body in that moment.

Lyla nodded. “He can’t get a hold of you through your comlink.”

Oops… the dimensional travel watch that you had smashed to pieces a couple of hours ago.

“Huh… left it at home,” you quickly said. “I think it’s malfunctioning or… something…”

“You should have that fixed soon,” Jessica chimed in.

“Yeah…”

Lyla was staring at you with with an ear-to-ear smile. “Can I tell him you’re on your way?”

“Oh… now?”

“He’s in a terrible mood, so try to be quick.”

Fuck.

“I have stuff to do… can this wait?”

Lyla’s smile didn’t falter. “I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you.”

You felt like throwing up, the events of last night replaying in your head like a broken record. He had surely heard you moan his name multiple times. It was obvious he was now ready to confront you about it and probably send you back home never to return.

“Fine…” you mumbled in defeat.

You parted ways with Jessica and started making your way though the busy streets to reach HQ.

As you landed swiftly onto a nearby bridge that led to the elevator, you threw a look a the tall building in front of you, dreading going inside.

“I’m sorry!” you automatically said as you bumped into someone.

“You look awful,” came Hobie’s voice from behind you.

You waved your hand dismissively, keeping your pace, but Gwen suddenly showed up at your side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?” You tried your best to sound convincing with a forced smile.

Hobie was now in front of you, hands shoved in pockets, guitar hanging from his back and inquisitive eyes on you. “Bad mission?”

“Nah,” you sighed as you entered the elevator nearby that would lead you straight to HQ and your early demise. “Just on my way to see Miguel.”

Gwen offered you an understanding look while Hobie merely shrugged. “Yeah, that explains it. Terrible aura that bloke has.”

You pushed the button that would bring you to the top floor and as the doors were sliding shut you saw Hobie saluting you. “Give him hell, kid!”

Easier said than done, but you were thankful for the brief distraction and gave him a heartfelt smile.

You stepped out and into the long corridor that led to his chamber.

By the time you reached the entrance, Miguel’s platform had already began descending.

In its usual torturing pace.

“Hi, Miguel!” you waved enthusiastically as if you weren’t about to go through the humiliation of your life. “Sleep well?”

You cringed at the ridiculous attempt at small talk.

Deafening silence filled the room until the platform had finally come to a stop.

He turned to face you as the multiple screens behind him flashed with different images and text.

“You look… tense,” you added as he stepped down in your direction.

“This is about last night,” he started, red eyes fixed on yours.

Fuck. This was it. You were backed into a corner. There was no way out now.

“Miguel… I can expl—”

“Where are your mission logs?” he quickly cut you off.

Your eyes widened . “What?”

He now had a finger pointed at you, his face drawing near. “You were supposed to register the logs of your mission with Pavitr last night, remember?”

Oh.

“We came in late and…” you were rubbing the back of your head and chuckling throughout in a miserable attempt to lighten the mood. “You know! Headed back to my place and… huh…” your words faltered momentarily. “… I-I… got distracted.”

“Clearly.”

Your heart clenched at his remark.

Miguel kept eyeing you as if expecting you to go on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to work through the humiliation of having the subject of your innermost desires confronting you about it.

Just as you were about to change the topic, he quickly turned his broad back to you, bringing his hands to move files around in front of him, archiving some and swiping through otheres.

You managed to catch a quick glimpse of a few ones of his daughter that he promptly closed.

“You need to start taking this seriously,” he went on, pulling out footage from all around Nueva York. “Where’s your travel watch?”

At this point, you started to wonder if he had actually heard anything. Maybe you hadn’t been that loud. Maybe he had arrived just as Lyla’s hologram showed up. Maybe all this worry was for nothing.

“Huh… it’s… not working properly,” you managed to say as your mouth went dry.

“You need that fixed.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring it to tech later today.”

Miguel’s head turned to face you. “I created it. I’ll fix it.”

Panic spread inside you like wildfire. “Oh! No-no! It’s fine. Really. Can’t you just give me a new one?”

In a blink of an eye, he was already facing you again, towering dangerously close. “Do you have it with you?”

You shook your head, too scared to breathe.

“Then let’s go to your apartment.”

“Why?”

His face was so close you felt as if he’d swallow you with his red eyes. “Time is valuable. Don’t waste mine.”

This was definitely an overkill. As grateful as you were that he would personally try to fix your watch, you soon realised you had put your foot in your mouth.

And as the two of you made your way out of HQ and to your place, you couldn’t push away the feeling that something was… off.

Miguel seemed on edge.

Maybe it was just your paranoia, but he seemed tense. Well, more than usual, that is.

The rest of the trip — through immense crouds of various spiders to web-swinging — was done in utmost silence until you reached your destination.

“Lyla?” he called out all of a sudden.

The tiny hologram popped up instantaneously. “Yes, boss?”

“Pause your live updates, unless it’s an emergency.”

“You gotta say the magic word first.”

Miguel growled. “What word?”

She had a devious look on her face as her heart-shapped glasses slid down to the tip of her nose.

He sighed. “Please.”

Lyla snapped her fingers with a smile. “Not so hard, was it?”

The hologram vanished just as you were about to unlock the front door with the fingerprint scanner. You walked in first, grateful that you had left the apartment in a presentable state, safe for a few books and shirts scattered all around.

Miguel just stood there.

“Hmm… I’ll go get… it…”

You hurried inside your bedroom, trying to pick all the tiny pieces of the deceased watch that lay on the carpet.

Having Miguel here would have been a delight under much different circumstances, but now you just wished a hole in the ground would swallow you whole.

He was still standing where you’d left it and when you handed him the object, you saw a frown settle on his face. “No wonder it’s not working. What happened?”

“Oh! Yeah! I stepped on it… accidentally!” you quickly added with a chuckle, embarrassed pooling inside you.

“Can I sit down?” he asked point at the couch.

“Of course! Mi casa es tu casa!”

You mentally slapped yourself at the abhorrent accent and winced at Miguel’s unimpressed expresssion.

“How often does it happen?”

That threw you for a loop. “Huh… it was the first time, actually.”

“Are you sure?”

What?

You blinked a couple of times, waiting for him to clarify.

Something dark flashed across his eyes. “Was it the first time you touched yourself thinking about me?”

Nothing could have prepared you for the words that had just left his mouth, and you jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

On Miguel’s end, he seemed unbothered, returning his attention to the object in his hands.

“I… huh… you… you heard that…”

It wasn’t a question. You already had the answer, but he had completely caught you off guard.

“You were being particularly loud.”

Heat rushed to your face and you felt absolutely mortified. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were there…”

He shrugged. “I had come by to check in on you after your mission,” he informed, tinkering with some screws. “You had your window open.”

Ah… yes… spiders and windows. Why knock on doors when you can simply swing inside?

But something wasn’t adding up. “Why… would you check on me? Pavitr delivered the report, right?”

Miguel stood up at once and flashed in front of you. “I’ve been watching you lately.”

You swallowed. “What… what do you mean?”

He backed you against the wall behind you and you vaguely wondered if this was some sort of test. Maybe a joke?

“Playing innocent, now?”

He was not making any sense at all. “Miguel… what…”

“I know how you feel about me,” he said in a whisper. “I’m quite good at reading people and their intentions.”

You wanted to disappear right there and then.

“Last night… I took a detour and decided to remind you to be a good girl and do upload your mission logs, but…” he paused, eyes landing on your lips. “I was presented with something that stirred something in me instead.”

You could feel his body nearly touching yours, heart racing at an alarming rate and the urge to arch into him.

“You were so lucky I had to brief that squad…” he went on, lips ghosting your cheek. “I would have ravaged you right there.”

Your knees almost gave up under you. “Miguel… I..”

“What? Do you think it was easy to turn away from that sight? You were so wet I could nearly taste it.”

And just like that, your clit started throbbing and your eyes fluttered shut.

All reason abandoned your mind. Logic would have told you to go slow and easy, but your primal instinct spoke louder.

“Then why didn’t you come back later?” you whispered into his lips, whishing he’d take yours at once.

“I would have broken you.”

Your eyes shot open.

Now you knew why he seemed off.

It wasn’t tension from the overload of work. He wasn’t on edge, because protecting the multiverse was taking a toll on him.

“You’re so willing… so responsive to my touch,” he said, planting the faintest kiss to your lips before breaking it. “Last night I felt an overwhelming need to breed you.”

You vaguely remembered Jessica’s words earlier on.

“So, tell me… what were you thinking about last night?”

“You…”

Miguel pressed his lower half against yours, making you fully unware of how much he wanted you. “Be specific,” he snarled.

Your clit was throbbing so painfully, you considered rubbing yourself on him for some added friction.

You did want to tell him all about your fantasies. How you have been craving him for months. How you’d have wet dreams time and time again. How you’d make up excuses to visit him at HQ. How you wished you could be his.

But no words came out.

“How many fingers were inside you?”

“Two…”

He started rolling his hips slowly, providing much needed satisfaction to your swollen clit. “Can you take more?”

You buncked into his impressive erection, knowing fully well why he wanted to know.

“One more…”

And then Miguel O’hara growled.

He had one hand loosely wrapped around your neck as he finally captured your lips with his. You had been experienced many types of kisses before. Soft, needy, sloppy, hurried… but you had never once experienced this level of hunger.

You let him deep the kiss with his tongue and felt yours brush along his sharp fangs.

He kept you in place with one hand when you heard and felt the sound of fabric being torn. You immediately tensed up, but Miguel reassured you by breaking the kiss to stare down the length of your exposed front, your spider suit now ruined.

The cool air hardened your exposed nipples and you saw more hunger in his eyes.

“I want to breed you.”

You arched your back, offering more of yourself to him, sure that this was just wordplay coming from him to spice things up.

Conveniently enough, Miguel had the ability to make his suit disappear at free will, eliminating the process of having to undress. The moment your eyes landed on him again, he was fully naked and you were left speechless.

He looked so inviting… from his toned torso all the way down to his thick cock pressed between you two, beads of precum sliding down the tip.

“It’s too big…” you mumbled as it dawned on you how much bigger than you he was… in every sense of the word.

Miguel pressed you against the wall, lifted one of your legs to wrap around his waist and allowed his cock to freely slide along your wet folds.

The hand on your neck tightened lightly. “Miguel… it won’t fit…”

“It will.”

You shuddered from the delicious friction against your clit and felt a gush of wetness drip from your pussy. Your body was trying its best to get ready to accommodate him, but you feared it wouldn’t be enough.

He kissed your jawline before sliding down to your shoulder and then you felt his sharp fangs teasing your skin.

“I heard that you can paralise someone with a bite…” you moaned as wet sounds filled your ears.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he chuckled as he applied some pressure teasingly. “I won’t do that to you… for now.”

He removed your leg from around him and brought one hand down to his cock. “Grab it.”

You did as you were told, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock being completely soaked. He set the pace by wrapping his own fingers on top of yours.

“Just like that…” he hissed, baring his set of fangs. “Tighter…”

You did try, but he was too thick to do that properly. Your eyes were glued to the sight of more and more beads of precum sliding down his knuckles. He was deliciously ready to take you.

“If you’re any tighter than this, I won’t last…” he mumbled, biting his lower lip until it drew blood.

He was driving you over the edge with his words and you weren’t sure you’d be able to withstand so much stimulation all at once.

You gave his cock a few more pumps before he hauled you into his arms with little no effort.

“Hey!”

“I want to taste you,” was his response as he lowered you on the couch. “Eyes on me.”

He parted your legs and settled between them, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, giving you goosebumps. Your back arched again as he tore through the rest of your suit with his retractable claws.

“Look.”

Your eyes landed exactly on what he wanted you to see: your clit was so swollen it was nearly peeking through your folds.

“So pretty…”

His tongue glided along your folds, parting them gently before he started sucking on your clit. You immediately jerked reflexively into him and fell flat on your back, not able to hold back your moans.

Every fantasy and wet dream you had had of this man could never come close to the real deal.

“Miguel…”

He groaned into you, the vibration making you buck your hips, yearning for more.

And be provided. He started with one finger slinding inside your pussy, but soon added a second one.

As he let go of your clit you promted yourseld on your elbows to revel at the sigh of Miguel O’hara having your juices running down his chin.

“Think you can take another one?”

You pouted.

“Please don’t do that… I’ll fill you up with my cock right now if you give me that look again…”

You rode his two fingers slowly, enjoying the stretch, but feeling more and more emboldened by the ego boost he was giving you.

“Miguel…” you moaned, eyes fixed on his. “I… think I’m ovulating.”

Honestly, you had no idea. It wasn’t something you bothered keeping track, but you figured he might enjoy it if you joined his game.

But, as they say, be careful with what you wish for…

He mumbled a string if curses in Spanish, immediately removing his fingers from inside you and flipping you onto your stomach.

“Why would you say that…”

You saw his face from the corner of your eye. He looked utterly unhinged.

“I thought you might want me to play along…”

Miguel placed his hand on your hips and had you arch your back to him, giving him better access to your dripping pussy.

“Oh, you think I’m joking?” He growled and you felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. “I really, really want to breed you.”

Your eyes widened. “Miguel?”

“You’re perfect,” he said. “I want you to carry my child.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing and he seized the opportunity to slide the tip inside, earning a muffled cry from you. You had to bite down on a pillow to keep from screaming at the overwhelming sensation.

“Stop clenching…” pleaded, gripping your hips tighter. “You have to relax… or…”

Miguel bucked his hips and you felt more of his cock stretching you and you couldn’t help but to clench tightly from the pain.

“Miguel… it’s too much… please,” you cried out, squirming under him.

He let out a guttural groan. “You have to stop clenching…” he said. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded and tried your best to relax.

“Good girl…” he praised you, rubbing your hips gently with his thumbs. “Almost there… look at me.”

You did so.

“Bite down on that pillow.”

Your eyes widened.

“No, no! Don’t clench or I’ll cum… I won’t last longer if you keep doing this,” he seemed desperate at this point.

But you did as he had asked and he took the opportunity to bottom out, letting out an animalistic growl.

Just as your were getting adjusted to his size, Miguel began to set a rhythm that would leave you gasping for air and gripping the fabric of your couch with such force you feared you might pull something.

You suddenly felt two fingers rolling your clit in between, which had you arching your back even deeper, craving more and more.

“I need you to cum first…” he was panting heavily now and you figured it was taking all of his will-power to not blow his load right there and then.

He rubbed your clit in unison with his thrusts and the familiar coil started to grow in your lower abdomen.

“Miguel…. Miguel….” you moaned in between gasps as you reached the point of no return.

By the time you had reached the edge and were hit with an overwhelming wave of orgasm, you noticed he had pulled out, leaving your to clench around nothing and being sent into your peak with just his fingers on your clit.

“Put it back!” you protested, backing into him and nearly crying from the loss of friction. “Fuck you!”

“Go on… that’s it… ride it out,” he said, having to steady your hips with one hand.

Your legs started spasming uncontrollably and then you felt him shove his cock in one go.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” you moaned.

Miguel was too far gone and it was obvious he had wanted you to reach your orgasm first so he could feel those rhythmic contractions.

That was what brought him over the edge.

You were now coming out of that haze of unmatched pleasure when he bottomed out once more and spilled inside you.

Miguel was gripped the back of your couch and you saw and heard his claws digging into it as he pumped more and more cum. His growl of pleasure echoed across your apartment and you wondered how many of your fellow spider neighbors had been able to hear it.

You felt broken… exhausted… read to go to sleep and never wake up.

Your breathing was erratic and your heart drummed loudly in your ears. Miguel pulled out slowly and you collapsed on your side, feeling splurts of his cum pouring out.

“Fuck…” he panted, nearly stumbling back.

Out of curiosity, you reach between your legs and gathered a small amount of his cum in your fingers so you could taste him.

“Do I taste good?” he asked as he shoved the rest of the spilling liquid back inside your pussy.

Your tongue darted out to lick your fingers. “Come find out.”

It didn’t surprise you that Miguel’s stamina insanely high and that he had managed to regain his composure.

He slid to the floor and kneeled in front of you, kissing you and, as you parted your lips, you allowed him to taste himself on you.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you,” he grinned, helping you shift on your back. “Now stay still for a couple of minutes.”

“Why?” you mumbled, finally able to get your breath under control.

Miguel O’hara had his suit on once again. “Did you actually think I didn’t mean what I said?”

His mask now covered his face as he leaned to plant a kiss to your forehead through the fabric. “You are going to bear my child.”

[xan-izme]

Double life 11 (ATSV x Reader x Batfam)

Summary: You can't do this alone

Part 10, Part 12

You felt stressed. The anomalies were popping up in Gotham and in New York at the same time. Of course, Aaron and Miles are there to handle things. But you no longer want their help. You don't want them to have that responsibility anymore. None of the burden.

And with Bruce. He hasn't talked to you. You haven't seen him in a few days. You felt like you have messed up everything. That he now hated you because of what you said.

But in truth. Bruce was just sulking behind closed doors. He's raised 4 boys so far, and he likes to think he's done a great job. Well, not a great job but an okay job. But with you, he feels like he's failing with every move he makes. He knows what you said is true.

He has the papers to prove you are his daughter. But he's missed 16 years of your life. Your uncles were more like fathers to you than he will ever be. And it hurts him. More than he would expect. And what hurts the most is that was the true you. Not the act you have been putting on for a few months. What he saw was a child struggling to morn her mother.

He would know.

But it must have been harder on you. Because you only had her. And now she's gone. And now you're stuck with him.

It was another night of kicking anomalies through portals. Preventing some minor crimes and avoiding Batman.

You sighed as you sat on top of the Wayne Mannor roof. The sun should be setting soon. You used to watch the sun set back in New York before beginning your day as spider woman.

You sighed as you pull out your phone.

Jason was looking for you. He needed to speak to you about, well everything. If he was to keep your little secret. Then he needed to know what the hell was going on. What's with the portal he saw you kick that one villain in, what was in the suitcase. Why are you being so secretive. It's suspicious, and he can't trust you fully. And he needs to trust you a little bit for this to work.

Jason enters your room, but you were nowhere to be seen. He assumed you were out with Damian.

If your gone. . .

Jason smirked to himself as he got the idea to snoop around. He walked around. He was Immediately at your bookshelf. He sighed in disappointment when he only sees education books. Books about physics and geology. Technology.

"No one is this into school." He pauses for a moment before correcting himself. "Tim. Tim is."

He grumbles as he tries to see anything else he can find. He circles around to a different side of your bed. He gasped as he finds a secret stash of books.

All fantasy fiction and history books Manga too. Harry Potter, Hunger games, Art of war, Game of thrones, The Odyssey, The lightning theft- the whole damn Percey Jason series. Heros, Gods and monsters of Greek Mythology- Wow! you're really into Greek mythology.

He hums in amusement and put things back. He Looked up to your desk and picks up a little picture of you and your cousin. He takes note of how you reacted when he mentioned Miles knowing about you being Spider woman. Probably the angriest he's seen you.

Your protective.

He sets the picture down and walks into your bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary. A lot of hair products. He opens the mirror cabinet. Painkillers. Tylenol, ibuprofen. First aid which was, empty.

He pauses for a moment. Something doesn't look right. He closes the mirror cabinet. Then opens it again. He repeats the process before finally taking a look at both sides of the mirror. He knows this manner inside and out. practically memorized the blueprints. Both old and new.

He decides to try and pry the mirror cabinet open from the wall. And there, a secret stash within the wall. He grabs the small duffle bag. He opens it up to see your suit. and a Polaroid picture of a woman. Your mother he assumes.

He lets out a small sigh and puts it back and closed the mirror cabinet tightly. He decided it was time he goes back to looking for you. Yours still in the manor he knows that much. He saw your shoes and window open. He searched the manor but could not find you. He stepped outside to see if you were at the barn.

But when he looks up. He sees a glimpse of a head. Someone was on the roof.

Jason hurries back into the manor and makes his way onto the roof.

You stare at the video playing on your phone. Sniffling a little.

"Mom, stop. I mean it!" You laughed as you try to back away to a wall

"Nope. not happening!" Your mother pointed the water gun at you and started shooting

"AH! Mama!" You tried to run but tripped and fell on your face.

"Pfft-" Your mothers laugh could be heard along with yours

You continued to solemnly watch the old video. Not noticing Jason a little far behind from you. Listening and watching you. You looked so sad it was unconfortable.

But he felt, a little guilty. Just a little bit. Because if he thinks about it you have been through a lot. Jason took a few steps closer and cleared his throat to signal his presence.

You jolt at the noise and glance back and see Jason. You quickly look away and wipe your tears.

"What do you want."

Jason stood there awkwardly before taking a seat next to you. You stare at him with your tired eyes. Jason sighed as he looked back at you. "Look, kid. I know I'm a jerk. I'll be lying if I said I didn't mean to. But can you blame me? You're not telling me anything."

You stay silent before looking away. Contemplating weather, you should tell Jason the truth.

"You can't do this alone kid. Trust me, it won't work if you do this alone."

You let Jason's words sink in. Slowly realizing. He was right. You were scared, and truly didn't want to go through this alone. And this was Jason, so it should be okay, right?

"Do you believe in the multiverse?" You finally spoke up. Your words made Jason look at you a little confused.

"The multiverse, like different universes. Timelines and stuff."

You nod. "Yeah, something like that. . . it's real. The multiverse is real. And, in every universe, there is a Spider Woman or Spider man to protect and keep balance. This universe is mine to protect. Those bad guys you see me throwing through portals. Those are anomalies."

Jason listened in closely. Half of him believes you, the other half not really. But he's all ears.

"Anomalies from different universes, brought by portals that were ripped due to mankind tempering with forces that were beyond our understanding."

You talked about everything. About the society. About Alchemex. And the whole cannon situation. A fate every spider hero had to succumb to.

It felt nice to let everything out now, like some wight was lifted off.

Jason believed you. Well, he kind of does. He only believes you because, well it's you. And he doesn't see the use of you lying about something as crazy as multiverses.

But the fact that you were hiding all of that and you were planning to carry the burden alone when still in the process of mourning the loss of your mother. It concerned him a bit.

He could tell Bruce. This could be a family effort. You're a vigilante, so are they. The whole bat family can help. But you have already expressed that you can't let anyone else know about the multiverse thing you have going on.

For safety reasons you claim.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

A/n: sorry, this is a little short, but I do want to warn everyone that I will be a little late with the next few chapters because they will be longer and might be traumatizing. so, yeah. Thank you for reading

@huening-ly. @mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx, @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz, @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem

[cheol-e-kat]

• no blueberries, feat. mingyu, pt. 1 •

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

mentioned: seungcheol, joshua, vernon, christian yu (dpr ian in part ii)

word count: 4.1K

genre: fake dating, college au, college student!mingyu, college student!reader, fluff, f2l, idiots, idiots in love, angst, pining, denial of feelings, etsablished friendship (reader & ian)

summary: mingyu was just your lab partner and study buddy for several semesters, but lately things seem to have changed, and maybe everyone else has noticed, but for the most part, neither of you even think about what you are to one another until mingyu asks you to be his 'fake' date for a long weekend trip so he can avoid an ex, the biggest problem is realizing that there's nothing fake about your relationship but when mingyu won't even talk about what you are to each other, you start to think things might be over before they even really start

warnings: explicit language, mentions of anxiety, sexually suggestive situations, drinking, established open relationship

a/n: they are literally idiots in love but they're so dumb they almost don't deserve a happy ending - i am screaming at them ;-; ooof writing part ii...and well, i need to update this with additional characters...oops (if you don't know - i am not a planning writing - i just go where the characters take me - they get their shit together - trust the process) besides it's named for a dpr ian song anyway, might as well include him for his dilf status and the accent

xx kat

[part ii] [part iii]

♡ if you would like to be tagged in my upcoming posts, go [here]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

“please, y/n,” he was definitely begging now. 

she rolled her eyes, “dude, she’s your ex - you’re over her, just go and be normal, okay?” she was a bit annoyed at this point because he was over her, wasn't he, she wondered.

he whined softly, “seriously, just come with me, pretend you’re into me for like four days - i can’t deal with her, you know, alone,” she watched him stare at his textbook, looking fully embarrassed. 

she blinked quickly wondering how she was the friend being enlisted for this - to her they were mainly lab partners and study buddies. she had no clue how he had decided they were close enough to even bring this idea up. but she did feel bad. even as lab partners, she knew his ex was genuinely horrible, as in her entire personality was “gaslight, gate keep, girl boss” - as though those were positive things no less. 

she sighed, “i thought it was kind of a couples thing? since almost everyone is part of a couple,” she trailed off. 

he nodded, “yeah, it is, but she’s going alone - she told someone her whole goal is to fuck me one more time,” he mumbled the last part, blushing hard, “apparently, she ‘misses’ that,” he rolled his eyes, looking miserable. 

even she was shocked to hear that. it was certainly a new low. 

“that’s - that’s really shitty,” she sighed, not knowing what else to say. 

she watched him nod, still staring at his textbook, thumbing the edges of the page. she bit her lip gently, “can i think about it for a bit?”

he nodded, glancing up at her. she couldn’t help but notice how glossy his eyes looked - she worried he was on the verge of crying. she wasn’t equipped to deal with a crying mingyu. happy? sure. drunk? yes. whiny and ridiculous? no problem. 

but to see him on the verge of tearing up because he was worried or stressed or whatever, that was beyond her friendship scope. but to be fair, fake dating probably was too. even if she knew some people did mistake them for a couple. that really wasn’t the point.

the point was the longer they sat there fake studying, she knew what she was going to do. she couldn’t sit back while he went off to a terrible trip to the lake where he might be the target of his ex’s sexcapades. she knew he hadn’t dated since her, which would just be a point againts him - she could easily imagine, ‘oh baby, you haven’t even tried since me?’ - gross, she thought. besides, if he were gone for the break, she wasn’t really sure what she would do anyway. 

the standard was for them to study friday afternoon, and then they would usually met up at a party or something and would duck out for food when either of them got bored and go back to y/n's to watch tv and pass out. saturday was fairly similar, but sunday was more like study, and then they kind of always ordered food and watched tv or something. sometimes he slept on the couch - something her roommate would roll her eyes at whenever possible, espeically since ‘sometimes’ seemed to translate to almost every sunday. 

she had finally told him to just bring clothes so he would't be late for monday morning practices anymore. her roommate had wondered loudly why mingyu didn't just move into y/n's room and get a tiny corner of the closet already. she had ignored that unnecessary commentary. 

she groaned inwardly, “okay, fine - i’ll go with you, but you owe me,” you whispered. 

he glanced up, “really?”

she ignored that he sounded a little too happy and nodded, “yes, if it means you can avoid her insanity for the long weekend,” she tried to feel confident about the decision. 

luckily, she knew there was nothing between them. they’re only lab partners and maybe friends, at best, she tried to assure herself and ignore every other thought she had. 

⋆˙⟡

she truly hated packing for anything, and this trip was no exception. the only slight difference was mingyu hanging out on her bed while she packed this time. she wasn’t sure if he was nervous or what, but he kept shifting around on her bed - it reminded her of a puppy rolling around in the hope that someone would rub its stomach. she tried not to laugh at the mental image of him rolling around in search of belly rubs. instead, she tried to focus on what to pack. 

it was still warm enough to go swimming, despite the fact that it was ‘fall’ break, so she tried to decide on swimsuits. ultimately, she just packed them all - they were basically underwear anyway, she reasoned. 

“are we sharing a room?”

“yeah, you know, since we’re together and ‘finally admitting it’ - is that really what jeonghan said?” he asked. he had been annoyed about that response for at least two hours. 

“i literally showed you his text,” she mumbled as she hunted for friends-who-are-fake-dating appropriate sleepwear, aka her most oversized tshirts, sleep shorts that were as un-sexy as possible, and a few sweatshirts in case it was cold.

he sighed, “okay, but that’s such a flippant answer,” he complained. 

she snorted, “‘flippant’?”

“yes!”

she grinned, wondering when he started using words like ‘flippant’ in normal conversations. mingyu was one of those guys who she hadn’t taken seriously when she first met him - he was fun at parties, but when he wanted to study together, she had been seriously skeptical. but then she saw their first exam grades post and realized how well he had ranked. she had wondered if it was just his personality or if he actively worked to hide the fact that he was that smart. 

it hadn’t really mattered though since they had been studying together since then. something she distinctly remembered being an issue for his ex - katie had genuinely hated y/n and wasn’t quiet about it. it was maybe the only time she had seen mingyu fully lose his mind over something - she had never heard the words ‘get fucked’ said quiet so intensely, especially since that they were sitting in the library at the time. 

she sighed, “don’t you think it might be a little obvious for us to show up together?”

“not really - she always said we had some weird thing, so why not let her be right,” his voice was concerningly normal. 

she had been thinking about the fact that it was kind of a petty move. actually, there were loads of reasons she could think of for not going, including almost every scenario from a horror movie - she was not discounting serial killers in masks waiting in the woods. but her main concern was being confronted by katie - it just felt like a needlessly stressful way to spend her fall break.

“okay, but i mean, you couldn’t think of anyone else?"

he sighed, “like who? i hang out with you, i go out with you - you make sense,” his voice was soft, but he still sounded just a little disappointed that she was asking him…again. 

she rolled her eyes, “we could just hang out like normal and avoid this.”

she glanced at him, watching him mull over what she had said and not for the first time either. to be fair, her anxiety was only growing. she left him to go pretend to be discerning about how much of her skincare she was packing, even though she was blindly grabbing everything from her counter. when she walked back into her room, he was sitting up.

“even if she’s there, the trip is just to have fun and not be on campus - you know, a break at joshua’s nice lake house,” he didn’t look at her as he explained. 

she stared for a moment and turned back to her already exploding suitcase, “you only asked me because of her,” she felt like it was very obvious why she was going, but she heard him mumble something, which she ignored. instead, she violently jammed her clothes and toiletries into her bag. 

she absolutely hated that knowing katie would be there made her feel a tiny bit competitive - she had purposefully picked all of her smallest swimsuits - she had even gone to get waxed for this, something she definitely would never admit to anyone. she had even dragged out her status luggage bag - the one her step-mom had given her two christmases ago that made her cringe. there was also the little, tiny mean voice in the back of her mind that had always thought katie had never been good enough for mingyu anyway - she wasn’t especially cute, and her voice drove y/n up the walls - not to mention she was kind of dumb and objectively sucked at beer pong. y/n would also never admit that she used to play them on purpose just to beat them because she was good at beer pong. 

she jumped when mingyu touched her arm, “fuck, what?” 

she hadn’t even noticed that he was lying on his side, watching her jam everything into her bag.

“you don’t have to go,” he whispered. 

she swooped all of her hair off her shoulders in annoyance, mostly because there was something about the way he whispered, with this weird tenderness, that made her feel way too quivery. it wasn’t fair because she knew she never affected him like that. she just shook her head. she was totally fine with everything. plus, she didn’t believe him for a moment that she could just stay. she knew in her gut that she had moved something in their friendship past a boundary that she hadn’t even noticed, and now, she couldn’t just take it back without suffering the consequences. 

⋆˙⟡

she was glad she was driving. she could at least focus on the road, plus they were the ones tasked with stopping at the liquor store, so she only had to deal with mingyu and seungcheol - she only wondered briefly why no one cared that seungcheol was solo for the long weekend. actually, it only annoyed her slightly that mingyu had left that fact out - she knew he could have spent the entire break with seungcheol, no problem, which only made her wonder why he really asked her. worse was her wondering why it seemed to matter that mingyu sounded disappointed at the idea of her not going, accepting but unhappy - not like he had been when she said ‘yes’. 

she walked through the store, mainly looking for the things she wanted. her ideal party weekend was starting her day off with something bubbly and moving on to liquor by lunch. she wasn’t really paying attention to the cases of beer, tequila, and vodka mingyu and seungcheol were collecting. instead, she was in line to pay for her stuff and some edible gummy candies she noticed last minute - she grabbed several of those. she could’ve kicked herself for not asking her roommate’s girlfriend for some weed before she left. she waited next to her car for them to come out, answering a few texts. she ignored the ones from mingyu. she couldn’t help that she was from a family of people who completely avoided their emotions, plus she could see the message preview - it wasn’t anything life-changing. 

when they came out, she wasn’t super shocked by the very full cart or the fact that they practically filled the back of her suv - they had to move their bags into the seat with seungcheol. it was like half the soccer team, their girlfriends, and friends for five nights, after all. the team wasn’t known for holding back at any of their parties - the rule was ‘no empties.’ she could only hope that the people getting food were grabbing enough to balance everything out. 

the rest of the drive was uneventful. it was pretty though - even if it still looked like summer and not a bit like fall. 

the house was a massive hunk of glass overlooking the lake. everything was very modern and sleek inside. she had been imagining something a little more cozy, less brutal. but that didn’t really matter, especially when they started divvying up the rooms - she and mingyu had a room that shared a bathroom with seungcheol’s room. and it hit her immediatly, mingyu was staying in seungcheol’s room. she wasn’t sure why it annoyed her, but it did, especially when she planned to be sharing a room with him. 

she starfished out on the bed - her bed - and decided she would probably go home the next day. there was literally no reason for her to be here, and there probably never had been. also, sharing the bathroom with two whole ass guys just sounded miserable. she sat up after a few moments of moping, remembering the edibles she had - she ate three and dropped back onto the bed. she wasn’t planning on coming out of her room. mingyu could get fucked, she decided. 

it was seungcheol who was leaning over when she woke up with a yelp, “what the fuck?” her heart was pounding. 

he laughed, “sorry, mingyu wondered if you were okay, so i came to check,” he raised an eyebrow, “you seem alive, though,” he concluded.

she rolled her eyes, “thanks for the astute diagnosis, dr. choi,” she murmured and fell back onto the bed.

he laughed, “seriously though, you good?”

she exhaled loudly, “is he like standing in the bathroom or something?”

seungcheol shook his head.

“liar,” she groaned and rolled over, “i’m going home in the morning, so he can stop feeling whatever way he’s feeling.”

seungcheol looked surprised, “you’re just heading back? isn’t this like the first time you’ve like been somewhere together?”

she shrugged, “and?” your annoyance was definitely coming through, loud and clear.

seungcheol nodded, “right, you two have weird vibes, but look, i need him out of my room - my date is here, and i actually want to spend time with her.”

she could only roll her eyes, “so four people and one bathroom - this is only getting better,” she sighed, “i should just go home now.”

seungcheol shrugged, “whatever, just say it’s okay for him to come in here, so he stops whining in my room - it’s seriously killing my mood.”

“okay, whatever, i don’t care.” 

this was truly going downhill as far as she was concerned. and why would mingyu be whining to seungcheol anyway, she wondered. she heard him come into the room, but she didn’t move. even when he sat on the bed, she stayed still. 

“are you really leaving?”

she pressed her lips together, thinking, “probably not, but seriously, why did you even ask me?” 

she had maybe run out of whatever annoyance she had felt before at being woken up out of nowhere, plus her edibles were wearing off. she sat up so she was next to him, “just tell me what this is - like i’m a buffer, right? but you didn’t tell anyone that i was just coming along, you told them we’re dating, and that comes with like expectations,” she trailed off. 

“since when do you care about expectations?”

she wondered if smacking him would be too strong of a reaction. 

this was all such a bad idea. she was going to have a shit weekend and probably lose her friend in the process. 

⋆˙⟡

the rest of the night was uneventful, with everyone filtering in and no one eating at the same time. she grabbed food and something to drink and mostly avoided conversation, especially if it had to do with her and mingyu. 

she also decided if she pretended this was like a retreat, she could just focus on swimming and hiking since, according to her phone, there were some great trails around. and obeying her fake retreat rules, she grabbed some extra water and headed to bed early - she needed to sleep if she was going to go for a sunrise swim. she was glad that she brought a sleep mask and ear plugs.

her only problem was mingyu’s texts. he hadn’t answered her question about why he asked her or explained why he went nuclear and told everyone they were dating. she had thoughts on what was going on, but she was as bad as he was. even lying in bed, in her not sexy at all clothes, her brain was in overdrive thinking about him in ways she didn’t want to be, especially since her phone kept going off. she knew he was thinking about her, even if it was this pretend, fake way - it didn’t matter. she pulled her pillow over her head to try to drown out the telltale buzzing. she refused to check her phone. 

even when she finally heard the sounds of people going to bed. she cringed at the idea of seungcheol fucking. her gut reaction was that man would be loud. 

she heard the footsteps outside their door, “come on mingyu - baby, just come to my room - you know you want to,” she sat up, knowing the voice immediately. 

“no, i told you i’m not” — she heard the sudden wet sounds of a kiss.

“fuck, katie, stop - what are you not hearing?” she could hear the edge in his voice. 

she sighed, she was technically there to help him avoid this kind of thing. she got out of bed and pulled off her sleep shorts, so she was clearly down to just her panties and tshirt, and tossed her sleep mask. 

she walked to the door and opened it slowly, “gyu?” she made sure sleep was thick in her voice, as she pouted up at him adn tugged his shirt sleeve, “come to bed,” she whispered, biting her lower lip gently. 

she didn’t even look at katie, just him.

he looked at her, “hey, baby,” he didn’t miss a beat, pulling away from katie as fast as he could and walking into their room after her, closing and locking the door. 

she walked back over to the bed and flopped back onto the soft mattress, “helpful enough?” she asked. 

the low light from outside was enough for her to see him nod, “sorry we woke you up,” his voice was soft. 

she shook her head, “it’s fine, just come to bed - i want to swim in the morning,” she was already happily back under the duvet. 

he was gone long enough for her to doze, but she opened her eyes when she heard him, “do you literally mean come to bed?”

she turned over and threw the covers back and patted the spot next to her. he still looked uncertain. she sighed and moved so she was on her knees - she grabbed his hand, “how much more of an invitation do you need?”

“you didn’t even check my messages,” his voice was so small - he sounded hurt. 

she tried to find some answer in the way he was looking at her. but there was nothing besides the fact that she had hurt his feelings. ignoring him was the only thing she knew genuinely drove him nuts - he had told her when they were strictly lab partners how much he hated it - how much it annoyed him. she rarely ignored him. but she had tonight, mainly because her own thoughts were kind of fucked, seeing his stream of conciousness texts would have made it worse.

“so let me apologize,” she whispered, pulling his hand gently - it wasn’t lost on her that he was just in his underwear. 

he let her pull him into bed, and she straddled him, reaching down to smooth his hair back from his face, “what hurts, baby?” 

he touched his lips - she nodded, leaning down to kiss him softly. she held his jaw gently and kissed him slowly. she moaned faintly when she felt his hands ghost along her lower back and under her shirt. his hands were so warm, she shivered. she deepened their kiss, tracing her fingers through his hair as she did, loving how soft his hair was. they stayed that way, making out like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. even when she felt one of his hands slide down over the curve of her ass to trace his fingers under the hem of her panties, she didn’t break the kiss. she wasn’t worried about where his hands might wander. there were only so many things he could touch. 

when she finally pulled away to breathe, she still played with his hair, “so, tell me what we’re doing, mingyu - so we both know, please.”

she could feel his hands on the backs of her thighs - he squeezed her thighs lightly, “what we do every weekend, y/n,” his voice was low.

she bit her lip softly, thinking about the weekend before, letting all her memories bubble to the top. her favorite part was the way he had held her back against his chest, leaning down to kiss her while he fucked her from below. 

she shook her head gently, “just say it - tell me the way you told everyone else,” she murmured. 

she waited for anything besides silence before sitting up and shaking her head. she moved to her side of the bed. she didn’t understand how they had gone so fluidly from one thing to another without really talking about it at all. but then again, that was maybe exactly how it happened - they hadn’t called it anything - it was just what they did. and she hadn’t cared about what it was anymore than he had until he brought it up - until he told people what they were. but somehow, that was the fake part - actually calling it a relationship wasn’t real, even though they had clearly been more than friends or anything else for months. 

⋆˙⟡

she went to sleep purely for spite. and when she woke up with her alarm, she slipped out of bed, grabbed her swimsuit and went to change. it was when she walked out of the bathroom and by the bed that she felt him grab her hand gently, “are you really going out?”

she nodded, “yeah, why shouldn’t i do the stuff i want?”

“i didn’t say you shouldn’t,” he let go of her, sighing as he shifted around under the duvet. 

she didn’t repsond, instead, she just grabbed her stuff and went quietly through the house and out the back. she walked along the dock, pausing at the end for a moment before jumping into the cool waters. even when she surfaced, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. she floated, thinking about the fact that whatever they were was only nameless when they were alone. she laughed to herself. 

she got out when she started to feel chilly. she dried off and walked back to the house. she poked around the kitchen to find something for breakfast and some ice - she had kept her own drinks in their room, knowing they would be gone otherwise. 

she went back to their room, bypassing the bed in favor of going onto the balcony they had. she hadn’t looked at it the night before. she only went back in to grab a bottle of champagne. she popped the cork, not really caring that it wasn’t chilled yet. she sipped it before sticking the bottle in the ice she had gotten. she ate fruit and some leftover steak she had found in the fridge. she scrolled through her socials. 

a few of her friends had messaged to ask if she were really dating mingyu - her blanket response was easy, ‘no.’ 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

a/n: told you they are dumb af...trust the process, yes they're about to be messy af...but i only write happy endings

♡ kat

[part ii] [part iii]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

tag list: @syluslittlecrows

if you want to be tagged, go [here] my [master list] if you want to read more

[bumpkinspice0]

Know One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 3/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.6

Summary: He lied to you. They all lied to you. They didn't want you back. This was all some sick ploy to get you to dig up the past you worked so hard to bury. You've held it inside for so long… time to let it out. Thanks for all the comments! I love you! We made it babes, buckle up Warnings: canon typical violence, fighting to resolve feelings (cause that makes sense), S M U T, Logan: Pussy eating champion, knife play? (blink and you'll miss it), fingering, dirty talk, P in V sex, switches switches everywhere, praise kink, multiple orgasms, smut with feelings

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

Funny how perspective can change in an instant. A few words shared in confidence can be used against you. Someone you thought you could trust was just using you the whole time. Nothing but a means to an end.

Night was finally here. You stand on the opposite side of the fire, Logan on the other with his hands raised as if you were a spooked animal. 

Getting close to you, the drinks, the kiss— all to get to this. This is what he actually wanted from you— to know your past to help himself. 

“Weapon X isn’t a person.” you spit

“It’s what they called me. What I’m told they called me.” he pleads back, circling the fire.

“What do you mean you were told?”

“They put metal in me— adamantium. They gave me claws and made me a weapon—a monster. That’s all I know. I don’t remember anything. They took everything from me. My memories, my humanity, everything.”

You can’t see past your rage to fully process what he’s saying. Another person stolen and experimented on. In a different life, you’d pity him— but not tonight. 

“Is… is that why you’ve been talking to me? Is that what this is? You think I can help you find something?”

“No! Of course not, I never—”

“You grilled me about my life! Questioned me just to—“

“Listen! Would you please just listen!” 

You turn away, each step making the concrete around you rumble. You storm into the mansion, slamming the door behind you. Logan follows. You’re halfway through the living room before he reaches for you. 

“Darlin’, I didn’t know anything, I swear to God,” he pleads behind you.

“Don’t!” you whip around before he can grab your wrist, “Just don’t, you fucking liar.”

“He’s not lying.” you both turn to the sound of Charles’s voice. He sits at the edge of the room, Scott and Storm behind him. “He didn’t know anything.”

You feel cornered, all of them looking at you expectantly— like you have all the answers. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to be reminded of it all— and all for the benefit of someone else. 

Your anger has a new target. 

“But you knew, Charles.” You spit at your old mentor, “Is that why you really brought me here? To help tame your new stray?”

“Of course not.” His voice is so calm and level, it only infuriates you more. 

“We had a right to know about this, Charles.” Logan bites out behind you. 

“You don’t get to talk right now,” You point an accusatory finger at Logan. 

“You’re not the only one allowed to be mad right now,” he growls back. If this is all true, deep, deep down you know he’s right. Then you were both pawns, the game was just being played by Charles. 

“It would have been addressed in time.” The Professor simply replies. 

“Oh, bullshit.” you bark out a mocking laugh before making your way past Charles and your once friends.

“Dozer, please,” the pleading in Storm’s voice almost makes you pause. Almost. 

You’re at the front door now, hand resting at the knob. A million possible responses are at the tip of your tongue.

They knew—they all knew—and this was just some big dance to get you to dig up things you didn’t want dug up—for him, for their new pet. They didn’t want you back. They didn’t want you at all.

“Fuck you.” You hiss before slamming the door behind you. You think you hear Charles telling the others to let you go before you do. You don’t know. You don’t really care. 

Still, that doesn’t stop a hand from clamping down around your wrist when you're only just steps from your truck. 

“Don’t go. Please.” 

“Let go of me, Logan”

You don’t bother to face him. He doesn’t deserve anything from you. No one does. 

The truck is so close yet so far away.

“I can’t help you.” You bite out. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care about any of that. Just—” His grip tightens, “You said you wanted to stay. You wanted to come back. Please… stay.”

“Let go.”

“You’re angry, with every right to be. I am too.”

“You don’t know a damn thing.”

You’re tired. You’re so tired of being used. 

“I get it. They deserve it, darlin’. All that rage.” He dares to take a step closer, “Charles, me, Weapon X… your father.”

“Let. Go.”

You rip him off, a pillar of rock sending him flying across the lawn. You finally turn to look at him. He gets up as if nothing has happened. He holds his hands out— a challenge.

“Let it out, darlin’. You deserve to let it out. I can take it.”

Anger needed a target, and he was offering himself up to be yours. 

The fucking masochist. 

You should leave. You want to leave but it’s a shame how all rationality goes out the window when rage is at the wheel.

The ground quakes, rocks and dirt swirl in the wake of your thundering steps. You run towards him almost blind. You don’t know what you’re doing but you don’t want to stop either. 

Let it out, he said— fine. 

You’ll let it out.

Rocks of all sizes come crashing down around him— pebbles the size of quarters to boulders the size of people. You rip them all from the ground with no regard. There is only fury. There is only white, blinding rage. 

Logan is fast, dodging every new obstacle you throw at him in an instant. He runs, he pounces but still, the claws stay sheathled. What good is a knife against a stone, anyway? It doesn’t matter, you don’t really care. In its own fucked up way, it felt good the let loose— consequences be damned. 

You don’t notice when you start to pull dirt from the gardens. 

“Bastard!” It’s screamed at Logan but you’re not entirely sure who you’re thinking of when you say it. 

Logan doesn’t have a scratch. It’s not just because of the healing factor, nothing’s touched him. He’s playing cat and mouse with you, drawing you further and further away from the mansion. He wants you to fight, but he won’t do it himself. 

Coward.

You plunge your fists into the ground, massive cracks in the earth jutting out from the force. The ground around Logan breaks apart from the rest, a small platform of earth lifting him into the air.

Try running from this, you think as you slam it all back down in one thunderous motion. The small island breaks apart on impact but Logan breaks free, claws finally bared. 

“You ready to fight back now?!” you scream through wheezed breaths. It’d been so long since you’d exerted yourself this way. You do your best to hide the creeping exhaustion. 

“This isn’t a fight, darlin’,” still he holds his claws at the ready, “Never was.”

“Oh, shut up! J-just shut up!” you hurl a small rock at him. He deflects it easily, a metallic ping ringing out as it bounces off his claws. His expression remains blank— unreadable.

Cocky asshole.

You throw more, stone after stone, not one meeting its target. Gradually, they get bigger and bigger as you continue. He starts the move again when the rocks become too big for him to simply slice through. With a single stomp of your foot, the ground beneath him turns to sand. He sinks down to the ankles and before he can react you harden it to stone. He pulls at his legs uselessly and you can't help but scoff at his efforts.

Try to run away now.

With shaking arms and legs you raise the debris-field around you, thousands of pounds of shattered earth at your command. Your whole body shakes with the effort.

“Is this it? Is this what you wanted?!” You scream at him through ragged breaths.

Logan only stands there, feet trapped in the dirt and ready to accept whatever your blind rage would bring down on him.

But he’s not Logan. 

He is your father. He’s the faceless men that held you in a metal box. He’s every scientist that pricked you with needles. He’s everyone you killed on that boat. He’s Charles. He’s you.

You fall to your hands and knees, the ground cracking and crumbling under your palms. 

You wanted to run away from this. Forget Weapon X ever existed but proof of it has been standing in front of you the whole time. Logan, a man stolen and tortured by the same people who did the same to you. A living weapon. Weapon X incarnate. They wanted to turn you into something like him. You could have been him. 

You could have been him. 

No memories. A quiet rage only scarred people like you recognize. Running until someone like Charles takes pity on you. That’s all anyone ever had for you. Pity. 

In an instant, it’s all still. All that power you were exerting into the earth boils out and rips through your throat in a harrowing scream. Everything falls around you, dust engulfing you in an instant. Long-held-back tears sting at your eyes, finally escaping down your cheeks. You curl into yourself, the earth and your mind finally still.

You don’t register the sound of metal claws digging at the ground. You barely notice the strong arms pulling you in. You think comforting words are being whispered to you, but you can’t bring yourself to listen just yet. 

Slowly the dust settles and you see the destruction you’ve brought to the land you worked so hard to rebuild. It only makes it all hurt more.

You did what he said. Years of holding it down— you let it out. You let it out on him and now he’s holding you like a blubbering child. With the initial anger quelled, the shame finally has a chance to creep in.

You did it again. You destroyed something you love because something was already broken inside you a long time ago. 

Why do I do this? Why do I always do this?

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Logan's quiet voice breaks through finally.

“Fuck… y-you,” you manage to gasp out between the sobs. They’re harsh words, but you have no strength left to fight him. 

You practically killed him and now he’s comforting you. Was he so desperate for any ounce of knowledge you had… or he was just someone who understood in a way no one else had? You’re not ready to face the implications of it all yet. You’re not sure you’ll ever be. For now, crying will have to do.

The dust has settled completely, covering both of you in a pail brown coat. Still, he doesn’t move, holding you as long as you need. Until the tears settle, until the remaining anger subsides, until your friends gather at the front door in the distance… waiting for you to come home. 

You look up from the crook of his neck, still surrounded by the results of your rage. You’d both sat in the center of a newly formed crater at the center of the yard. 

Sometimes, you forget how destructive you can be when you don’t hold yourself in check. Yet… somehow, you feel lighter. Maybe Logan was right. 

“Is the house still there?” you find yourself asking first. 

“Yeah, hon. She’s still standing just fine,” he answers.

“Told you I could t-take you.” 

“I didn’t doubt you, darlin’.”

A beat. A few wheezed, calming breaths.

“What do you want from me, Logan?” your voice is coming out horse, throat raw from dust and sobbing. 

“Nothin’ you don’t wanna give,” His voice is equally as ragged, “Just stay. Start with that.”

“I don’t think I can anymore.” 

“What… this? This ain’t nothin’. I’ll take the blame,” he nods his head to the side, gesturing back to the house where the X-Men stood silently, “They’re already waitin’ for you.”

And they always would, a hopeful voice echoes in the back of your mind. It’s small, but you still hear it. Maybe even believe it too. 

“Yeah, well, maybe all the self-destruction makes it even for lying to us.” you wipe your eyes, desperately trying to find a little composure again.

“Us, huh?”

“Yeah, us,” you push back against his chest, finally looking him in the eye, “The class fuck ups, remember?”

Part of you was broken, you know that. The same part of him was broken too.

A cauldron of emotions was boiling between you both. You’re not sure where to even begin to sort it out. Part of you is still angry with him. Another part of you pities him— but the biggest part of you just feels safe with him. 

Despite it all, knowing what you both know now, he still made you feel safe.

Your lips find his and he pulls you in close again. This kiss is different from your first. It’s a truce, in a way. Everything’s changed now. You don’t know what this is, you don’t know what you wanted it to be. You just know you still wanted him. Despite it all, you still wanted Logan.

He pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I…I don’t want anything from you,” his voice is just above a whisper. A quiet promise, “That shit hurts, I get it. I won’t make you dig it up. Just stay… please.”

“Logan… I—”

You both jump at the sound of a phone alarm, a melodic beeping coming from Logan’s pocket. You’d heard it before dozens of times— the alert system of the X-Men. Something was wrong. 

“Goddamn it,” Logan pulls out the phone, the yellow X emblem flashing rapidly on the front. You look over to the front door and see the rest of your friends do the same. 

It takes only a moment for Logan to read the message. You see his face drop as he does. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“The Trask rejects. They’re making a public attack.” He growls out through gritted teeth. 

Impeccable timing.

“Logan,” Scott stands on the edge of your little crater. The rest of the X-Men were already inside, surely preparing for deployment. “We have to go.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, bub,” You feel Logan’s grip tighten. 

“It wasn’t a request,” Scott stands strong, “And we don’t have time to argue. We need the whole team.”

You think for a brief moment Scott means you too. Of course, he doesn’t. It would be a horrible idea. You're emotionally turbulent right now. It could be dangerous. The best thing for you to do is sit down and cool off. Scott was trying to separate you both.

Logan pulls you in tighter.

“I’m not–”

“Logan,” your voice finds strength again. You stand up from his grasp, hugging your arms into yourself. You already miss his warmth, “Go. Just go.”

There’s a flash of pain in his eyes but you think he understands what you’re really asking for. 

Space. I need a little space.

Logan stands, dusting himself off in the process. Scott, seemingly satisfied with Logan’s efforts, makes his way back to the house. 

Still, Logan pauses. 

“Will you be here when I get back?” There’s almost a pleading in his voice.

“Logan, I—”

“Let's go, Wolverine!” Scott’s voice cuts through the tension. You're almost thankful for it.  

Logan grimaces before stepping out of the crater. He pauses at the top, back to you and fists clenched at his sides. He storms up to the house without turning around. 

You collapse back down into the dirt, burying your face in your hands. You’re not sure how long you sit there until you find the strength to get back up.

__________

The mansion is eerily quiet. A house this big should never be this quiet. Rooms upon rooms that should be filled with children giggling. Gossip spreading like wildfire. Someone sharing a first kiss or first cigarette. Normal kid things that non-normal kids get to do in peace. 

You used to be one of them. 

It’s late. You stalk the dark halls of the mansion like a ghost. You heard Charles come up from Cerebro over an hour ago— a good sign the team was successful in their mission. He’s been sitting in his study ever since and you can’t seem to work up the courage to confront him. 

It’s only the two of you in this big house. Not a single thing is standing in your way except your pride. He’ll wait for you to make the first move. You’re not sure what you’re going to say to him, but you know you have to say something.

How dare you?

Sorry I re-wrecked the lawn?

I thought I wanted to be an X-Man again, but Logan has made this all vastly more complicated and I’m not sure I can forgive you for keeping such a big secret from me?

Decisions, decisions. 

You sit on the bench just down the hall from his study, the same place you’d sat so many times before waiting for a lecture. This time is no different, you suppose. 

Once a student, always a student. 

“I’m old, you know,” Charles’s baritone voice booms from his office, “I can’t do these late nights as well as I used to.”

It’s a gentle encouragement. He probably has a migraine from overhearing your raging stream of consciousness while managing an actual crisis. He wanted to discuss this like adults— You did too. Unfortunately, only one of you really knew how to be an adult. 

Mostly you just wanted to get it over with.

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself to your feet. You shuffle into his office, tail between your legs. He sat by his desk, his chair turned to face out the window behind the desk. You quietly take a seat next to him. The sense of betrayal was still there but it was now mixed with a healthy dose of regret.

You both silently look out over what was going to be a beautiful garden— now in ruins once more. 

“How are they doing?” you meekly ask. 

“The offenders are all finally apprehended and contained,” Charles answers bluntly. Neither of you turns to face the other. “Everyone is okay. They should be back within the hour.”

You simply nod, staring blankly out the window. You’re not sure how to start this. You didn’t really want to begin with. 

“You want to ask me why I didn’t tell you about Logan’s history right away.” His words cut through you. Charles wanted to get this over with too, you suppose. 

“Well… why didn’t you?”

“Would you have come if you’d have known?”

You don’t answer— not out loud at least. The silence is answer enough.

“Why didn’t you tell him about me, then?” You press forward. 

“That’s not mine to tell, now is it?” You can almost feel his eyebrows raising, “Logan has a long journey ahead of him. I will help him in whatever ways I can, but that is my burden to bear. Not yours,” you hear the pain in his voice. The sincerity. He’d seen what you’d been through. He’d likely seen what Logan had been through—parts of it at least. Charles always knew everyone's pain. Always carried it with him.

“Would you have ever told him about me?”

“Only if you wanted. Only if the situation presented itself. I must admit, I didn’t anticipate you two getting so close.”

“Making us kiss wasn’t part of your master plan?” You scoff. 

“I like to think of myself as a decent storyteller but I’ve never been much good at writing romance.” He lets out a small chuckle, “Though I should have known you’d be a bad influence on each other.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood. You can’t blame him, but there are still things you want to know. Things you need answers to. 

“When was he…there?”

You can’t say its name anymore. Not tonight at least.

“Years before you. I’m not entirely sure when. I believe he was the very beginning. You were the beginning of the end.”

The answer doesn’t bring you the comfort you thought it would. There may be some solace in knowing he wasn’t locked up in that boat with you. He was their first test, and he got out. You both got out. 

“Why am I here, Charles?”

He lets your question linger longer than you’d like. Jean could have likely done the work you’ve been doing. Hank would have been more than happy to plan the tunnels. You didn’t need to come back. Not really. He risked a lot bringing you here with Logan. 

Charles takes a deep breath.

“I won’t deny I could have handled this better, but I can be a selfish man sometimes. Every now and again I get reminded how fragile this little world I’ve built here is. How vulnerable we all can be. As a teacher, I always found it difficult to detach myself from my students completely. Checking up every now and again is a thing of habit for me. I hear all the things no one else can hear. I know it can be lonely out there. I know self-doubt is rampant. But I could help… If I could bring everyone home and remind them that they’re loved–”

“Charles,” you don’t mean to interrupt, but if you didn’t he’d ramble on forever and you wouldn’t ever get a straight answer. Even if he was just reminding you of things he’d already told you a million years ago.

“Something terrible happened here, and I got scared.” Charles admits with a heavy sigh, “I got scared and I wanted something. I wanted those closest to me to feel safe again. And, selfishly, I wanted to feel safe by having those I loved back home. I didn’t consider the larger consequences of those actions, and I am sorry. I just found an excuse to call a child home.”

You almost choke out a sob. Fortunately, your tear ducts seem to have had enough crying for one night. 

You hated that he could always do this. You came in here so ready to be furious with him. You were so ready to give him a piece of your mind and storm off. Tell him you’re never coming back to this godforsaken school again. 

“I’m not your child, Charles.” You coldly say instead. 

“No… No, you’re not.” He turns his chair slightly to face you. You finally look him in the eye. Despite it all, he still smiles warmly. “You’re my student. Always will be.”

You were wrong, a few stray tears still escape. 

He opens his arms without hesitation when you lean into him, muffled I’m sorry’s said into his suit’s lapels. This was a familiar scene. You’d been here so many times with Charles. God, he even smelled the same. Some old man cologne you could never place. He’d talked you down so many times in school and now he was still doing it into your adulthood. You never felt like you deserved his patience. Maybe you could try a little harder to earn it though.

You pull away, wiping your nose for hopefully the last time tonight. You both gaze back out over the decimated garden. Well, that was the hardest part done. Now there’s just the matter of Logan.

“You think I can help him?” You ask.

“I think you can help each other… if you want to.”

“What if I don’t want to help him?”

“Then don’t.”

You roll your eyes at his bluntness, “Say what you really mean, Charles.”

 “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He starts to move his chair around the desk.

“But?” You prod, following behind him.

He halts in the middle of the room, “But you might be denying helping yourself then. You’ve been fighting these demons too long, my dear. Face them. He can help you face them.”

You do believe it wasn’t Charles’s intent for all this to happen when you brought you here. He and the team respected both your and Logan’s privacy by not telling the other. You and Logan opened this book together unknowingly. It’s too late to close it, and it’s too big to just ignore. 

Charles makes his way to the door, but you still have one more thing to say. Or really, one more thing to ask.

“I was—I was going to ask to stay. Before…before everything.”

“Do you still want to stay?” He pauses at the door.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well of course I do… you need to fix the mess you’ve made of my gardens and finally plant those damned flowers.”

_________

You stand in front of the full mirror in your room, an ill-fitting navy blue shirt with a bright yellow X plastered across the chest hastily draped over your body. Jean always kept a few changes of school clothes in all the closets. All of your clothes were dirty, so this was the only option. Your regression back to a new student was complete now. If you were a more superstitious person, you take this as an omen— whether it was good or bad, you hadn’t decided yet.

You collapse face-first into the bed. It felt nice to be clean after everything today. You’d practically turned the floor of the shower black with all the dirt that was caked on your body. At least you finally got that shower.

You’re still here, after everything you’re still here… probably for the long run. You tell yourself you’re going to sleep on it tonight, but your mind is practically already made up. It would hurt, you’d be challenged, but you wanted to be here. You wanted to just fucking try again. The X-Men, your friends, they brought out the best and worst in you, but that’s what family does, isn’t it? That’s what you were always told, anyway.

You think you heard the team land while you were in the shower. They were home, and the mission successfully completed.

There was still one more thing you wanted before you made your final decision. One more thing you had to face to see if this would all be worth it. You sit up, face the door, and wait. You asked him to come to your room tonight, you hope he’d still come. 

Eventually, there’s a knock.

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you jump for the door. You pull it open and there he is, still fully suited up in lemon yellow with the fresh smell of smoke and sweat wafting off of him. To your surprise, it’s not entirely unpleasant. 

“You….You stayed.” He says first. 

“I did.”

“Finally got that shower too, huh?”

“I did.”

That’s the extent of the introduction. You both stand there awkwardly for a beat. Neither of you knows how to start this. You didn’t necessarily end on the best note. You didn’t start on the best note either.

You both decide to break the silence at the same time.

“How was—

“I’m sorry you—”

You both catch yourself before continuing. God, why was this so hard? Luckily, Logan is the first one to try again. 

“I uh— I wanted to say I’m sorry,” His gaze dropped to the floor, “I’m sorry you got roped into my shit.”

“Logan, you don’t—”

“I’d understand if you don’t want to see me again,” he looks back up at you, “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. If you’re gonna stay for the long run, I’ll leave.”

Unbelievable. This man was absolutely unbelievable. He gets back from saving the goddamn world and comes straight to your room to say you can kick him out of his house. How do you tell him that’s not an option? How do you tell him you want to start over with all this?

Actions were so much easier than words.

Your hands snake up his arms gently as you step closer. You think you feel him relax under your touch. His hands find your waist as yours loop around his neck. You pull each other into the kiss, sensual and slow. Everything you’d shared so far had been violent or painful in a way. This was… it was nice. A quiet embrace in the early hours of the morning. Two people seeking comfort in each other's arms. Simple. You liked simple.

He pushes you both further into the bedroom. Excitement pricks at your every nerve but you still have more to say. You need to get it out. You need to. He has to know before you forget to say it. 

I think you can help each other… if you want to.

“Logan—” you pull away, almost painfully. “Just… wait.”

He leans back, “We don’t have to—”

“No! God no, I want to! But—” you shake your head, desperately trying to gather yourself despite the aching that was building inside you, “I wanted to say— I wanted to tell you, I— I want to help. I want to help you— help both of us. I want to try at least.”

You feel him tense under your touch. Great, another moment ruined by your self-righteous big mouth. 

He looks you in the eye, expression almost pained. “Darlin’, I told you, you don’t—”

“I know,” your fists curl around his collar, “But I want to. I’ve been… I’ve been running from this a long time, Logan— ignoring it almost. I think you have too. They need to pay…For what they took from me. For what they took from you. I don’t remember much but… I know names. Locations. Places we can—”

His lips crash back into yours, hands squeezing your body flush with his. He kicks the door shut behind him and walks you both backward towards the bed.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he growls, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck. “Fucking unbelievable.”

“Logan—” You moan, clawing your hands through his hair. 

You both collapse back onto the bed, the wooden frame creaking in protest. Your movements get more frenzied. You claw at the various zippers and latches of his suit while his hands drag down your body, pulling off your shorts in the process. Your quickly dampening underwear stays in place. You manage to get the upper half of the suit open. He leans back, pulling off the top of his suit the rest of the way. You peel off your own shirt as he does so. You look at him towering and bare-chested above you, his knees caging your hips in. Only one thought flashes through your mind. 

Holy fucking shit.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, rough hands finding your body again. He cups your breast, “Fucking look at you, sweet thing.”

His mouth comes down over a nipple, fingers rolling over the free one. You arch under him, hands clawing up and down his back. God, his body is so warm against yours. So heavy.

He grinds into you as his tongue moves to your other peaked breast, his hardening length rubbing against your pulsing cunt. These underwear are probably be ruined after this. 

His movements were rough, almost desperate. You loved it, you loved every fucking bit of it. 

His mouth comes off your breast with a small pop. He glides his nose over your heaving chest with a deep inhale, small kisses peppering your skin as he moves. Slowly, he moves down your torso, pausing at the hem of your panties. 

“Oh God, Logan—” You gasp, feeling his hot breath against your waiting pussy. He places a sloppy kiss over the already damp fabric, tongue rubbing against your clothed bud. An almost pained gasp escapes your lips. 

“I really do like the way you say my name,” his mouth moves to your inner thigh, fingers curling around the hem of your last scrap of clothing. “God, you’re so—”

A single claw unsheathes. The blunt side runs against your skin as he slides it under your panties at the apex of your thigh. The cool metal sends electric shivers up your body. He rips through the fabric with ease, the claw retracting as soon as you’re fully exposed before him. He takes his time pulling away the final scraps of your underwear, rough hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. Yep, definitely ruined.

His eyes come up to meet yours, his brow heavy over them, deep brown and almost animalistic. 

You all but scream when he comes down on you. His mouth engulfs your entire cunt, tongue running up your seam and circling around your clit. Your legs curl around his head, hands shooting out to grip his hair. A growl rumbles up from his throat when you pull and reverberates through your whole body. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. His movements are almost frenzied again. Stubble rubbing against your sensitive skin as his tongue attacks your pussy, hands squeezing your hips so hard to the point of bruising— pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Taste so good, baby,” he moans against your mound, “Knew you would. First time I saw you, I knew you—”

His tongue flattens against your seam, slowly dragging up and pausing at your bud. You gasp when you feel a finger breach you, curling against that delicious soft spot inside. His mouth and fingers work in unison, pulling heated breaths out of you almost rhythmically. 

He’s good at this. Fuck, he’s really good. 

That familiar heat starts to build in your stomach as he works you slowly, his rhythm getting rougher and rougher as he goes. Mouth sucking as his fingers curl, back and forth, back and forth. He’s fucking enjoying this, you think. The thought makes you even more excited. He wanted to take his time with you, selfishly milking sinful moan after sinful moan out of you as he did so. 

Too bad you’d been sexually pent up for god knows how long. 

The heat rises in your stomach. 

“L-Logan–I–I—” the words barely make it out. 

His heavy-lidded eyes shoot up to yours, “Give it to me.” He growls against you, “Let me feel you.”

His tongue circles your clit once— twice—

Your back arches off the bed with a pained moan ripping through your throat. You push him closer as liquid fire pulses through your veins. His mouth doesn’t leave you the whole time, tongue in a frenzy of movements as your orgasm rocks through you. He draws it out longer. Makes it stronger. 

Even when the initial wave subsides, his mouth doesn’t leave you. You squirm under him, hypersensitive and brain fogged over with pleasure you didn’t realize you’d desperately missed. 

“L-Logan… Please,” You pull at his hair. 

He stills, pulling off of you slowly. He leans back, chin dripping with your release. His hands stroke gently up and down your shaking legs. You look down and see the straining bulge in his pants, a faint wet mark forming against his thigh. 

You sit up, hands trailing up his heaving chest and looping back around his neck. You pull him in, tasting yourself on his tongue. He grasps the back of your head and pulls at your hair just slightly. You push against him, he falls back on the bed. You hover over him, bringing your hands down to his belt. You undo the clasp and he pulls them off the rest of the way, his pulsing hard cock finally springing free.

Holy fucking shit— you think for the second time tonight. 

He gives himself a rough stroke, a bead of pre cum escaping his already wet head. You can’t resist the sight. You lean down and drag your tongue over the tip to lick it up. He hisses in a sharp breath as you do. 

“What do you want?” you whisper against him. You’d honestly be happy with any answer.

He moans at your words, hands coming up to cup your breasts again. 

“Wanna see you ride me, tough girl,” you swear his voice has dropped an entire octave. “Want you to take me. Wanna see that pretty pussy stretch around me.”

You feel his hips squirming ever so slightly. It felt so powerful to have a man like him underneath you, almost begging. 

You place your hands on his massive chest as you lean forward. You can’t help but touch him— Maybe even dreaming about touching these fucking muscles. You can’t resist giving his pecs a rough squeeze when you do. He hums in approval, his hands trailing down to your rising hips. 

You drag your sopping cunt along his cock a few times before lining up with him. Small gasps escape as you do. The motion was just as much for your pleasure as it was for ease. Logan was big, and with no lube, you’ll need a little extra help. 

His grip tightens when you start to take him, a low rumble starting in his throat and traveling through his chest. You feel it reverberate up your arms. Your legs are only a little shaky but you manage. You finally let out a heavy breath when you bottom out. You take a moment to savor the feeling. It’s a stretch, but not at all unpleasant. You’re so full. So fucking full. 

“Fuck.” Logan hisses underneath you, “F-fuck, you’re so—move, baby. You gotta move or—”

You immediately oblige, rolling your hips against his. You find a rhythm, slow and sensual. His head tilts back into the pillows, his jaw tensed to the point where you can see almost all the lines and veins in his neck. You rise, pulling him out just a little more with each thrust. He practically drools out the most delicious moan you’ve ever heard.

You love seeing him like this, see him falling apart for you. You made The Wolverine into this. 

The pain of being stretched so wide starts to subside, melting into your building pleasure. You shift, and your movements become more deliberate. Searching almost. You gasp out when you find it, that spot that makes your vision go blurry. You grind down against it again and again and again.

“God, that’s it, darlin’,” Logan chokes out, “T-take it. Take what you need.”

His hands shoot up to your breast again, giving them a rough squeeze. His fingers massage into the soft, sensitive flesh there, thumbs brushing over your peaked nipples. 

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he praises, the white of his teeth flashing in a grin. 

You’d probably blush at the compliment in any other situation. Instead, you lean down and kiss him. It’s messy, a bunch of feverish tongue and teeth but, god, it was perfect. You drink down each other's moans, gasping for breath in each other's air as you grind into him. 

Your hips start to betray you, the fatigue catching up the muscles in your legs. It’d been so long since you’d gone this hard with anyone. You weren’t out of practice by maybe a little out of shape. You lose your rhythm just a little, but Logan doesn’t seem to entirely mind, but he does seem to take notice.

His hips rise, giving you a few experiment thrusts before he sits up, pulling your chest flush with his. Your movements are subdued into small rolls against him, an entirely new pressure against your clit.

 His lips still haven’t left yours. They don’t leave as he pushes you further back. They don’t leave when you collapse into the sheets and he crawls on top of you. They don’t leave when he almost completely pulls out of you and slams back in. 

“Fuck!” You scream. You think you hear him chuckle as he pulls out again. His laugh is slowly overtaken by a moan as he slides back in. Gentler, slower this time. 

His mouth trails down to your neck again, nipping and suckling in ways that would surely show tomorrow. The thought of people seeing what he did to you excites you.

You hook your legs around his hips. He rises from you, just for a moment.

Seeing this massive man hover above you was a sight you wanted permanently burned into your brain. His massive arms caging you in, veins popping against the tense muscles. His chest is red with claw marks from your hands. Eyes glossed over with animalistic bliss.

This was fucking, hard and dirty fucking in almost every sense of the word000 sure. But there was something about it that made your mind go fuzzy. The deliberateness of it all. The roaming hands and heated eye contact. Not just pleasure for pleasure’s sake, but connection. Making love.

Neither of you wanted just a quick dirty fuck to get it out of your system. Something more. This all had the potential to be something more.

For now though, hard and dirty was still good. 

He bites at your lip with a growl and you moan at the prick of pain. All of you, Christ he wanted all of you. You’ll give it to him—gladly. 

You shift your hips and you feel it again— that perfect spot. He notices. 

“That’s it, huh?” he grunts, thrusting back into the exact same spot again. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” 

His mouth attacks you while his cock makes you go cross-eyed. This can’t be real. He can’t be real. You died. You’d crushed both of your bodies under the yard hours ago and this was some sadistic heaven your dying brain had cooked up. 

That’s the only explanation for something feeling this good. 

He licks his fingers, two of them finding your clit as soon as they leave his mouth. 

“Give it to me. You got one more don’t you, sweetheart?” he purrs against you, “Give me another one. W-wanna… wanna feel you… Fuck.”

“Oh G-god, oh fuck, oh God—” You chant, seemingly unable to say or process anything else in the blinding pleasure.

Your hips raise, grinding into his palm while his cock continues to drill into you. The feeling comes on fast. It was building in you again. You become desperate for it, that sweet impending release. You claw at his neck for any sense of stability.

“N-need you, Lo-Logan,” you find yourself begging, “N-need to feel y-you—Wanna feel you—”

“C-christ, don’t say that,” he growls, “Give me one more. One more more and—and I—”

He trails off, losing himself in his sporadic thrusts. He was getting close, his movements getting more desperate— but you were close too.

He ruts into you, rolling his hips against yours and you’re done for.

“L-Logan! I– I’m–”, you can’t finish, your words melting into a silent scream. You arch and squirm under him. He continues to relentlessly pound into you, chasing his own high. 

“Oh— G-God— Y-you— You’re so—” his lips crash back down to yours, a growling moan reverberating down your throat. You drink him in selfishly. His hips still against yours, his cock pulsing and spilling into you. You grasp at him, pulling him close as you both lose yourselves in the waves of white-hot pleasure together.

You don’t know how long you both hold each other there, lost in the euphoria of it all. Eventually, your muscles start to loosen

His lips leave yours with a ragged gasp like he’s desperate for air. His sweat-slicked forehead lowers down to yours. You both hover there for a moment, choking on each other's air. His eyes bore into yours. 

You can still feel him pulsing inside you.

“Holy shit,” you break the silence with a small giggle.

He chuckles back, placing a kiss on your forehead.

He rises, pulling out of you with a moan and you gasp at the sudden emptiness. He collapses next to you, hand still lying heavy across your stomach. 

“So… you’re gonna stay?” he asks, thumb rubbing comforting circles on your sensitive skin. 

“Only if you keep that up every night,” you joke back.

He nips at your neck with a growl, “Don’t tempt me, honey.”

God, what have you unleashed. 

He curls around you, pulling the covers up over the both of you. The exhaustion was creeping in. It had been a long day. He pauses, looking at you almost for permission. He’s wondering if his assumptions about staying the night have maybe crossed the line. You simply smile and pull the covers up the rest of the way.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck as he pulls you in closer. Your hand finds his own, resting on top of his chest. You run your fingers between his knuckles. There weren’t even scars to show. To your surprise, he doesn’t flinch away. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” you assure him, “I… I want to help you. Help us.”

You feel his breath hitch just a little as his fingers close down around yours. 

“I know you will, darlin’.”

“I don’t know where we’ll start, but—”

“Don’t,” his nose nudges your head gently, “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I told you you don’t owe me anything. Just stay. Start with that.”

You don’t think you’ll ever understand how he can quell your anxieties with so few words. Maybe it was the reassurance in his voice. The confidence. You place a gentle kiss on his chest. 

Your scars are the same as mine.

It was the unspoken words between the two of you since the beginning, whether you knew it or not. Something inside the both of you knew the other— stripped away all the layers and saw what was underneath.

Someone who was just like them. What a rare thing to find.

“I’m happy I came home, Logan.”

“Me too, darlin’. Me too.”

____________

Hope you loved it! I loved writing these two. I might do a little one shot or two, not sure yet. Just not quite ready to let them go. Let me know if you want more of these idiots!

[hatsukeii]

the curious case of kageyama tobio's love life / kageyama tobio x reader

genre(s): crack + fluff! timeskip au (third year/graduation), investigative report format, secretly dating trope, drunk x sober LMFAO

warnings(s): drunk people and house parties... (underage drinking is not! recommended here!), defs multiple/many uses of y/n because of how the fic is formatted but you need to trust the process PLEASE (sorry!) also reader's ass gets slapped by kags as a dare...

wc: ~4k

tldr; below is a transcript, recounted by partygoers hinata shoyo, tsukishima kei, yachi hitoka, and yamaguchi tadashi, of the happenings at hinata shoyo's graduation house party, set on the night of 29th march. any and all hearings have been sworn to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. they think. probably.

[Report #1- Initiated by Hinata Shoyo]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 7:20pm

Location of occurrence: Living room

Kageyama Tobio is the third guest to arrive at Hinata Shoyo's residence, twenty minutes after Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi. He carries with him the items that were agreed on the night prior- two twelve-packs of beer, one two litre bottle of coke, one Nintendo switch, and two Nintendo Pro controllers. Upon entry, Hinata Shoyo greets him at the door, and the following conversation ensues between Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #1- provided by Hinata Shoyo]

S. Hinata: You're here, what's good! You got the stuff too?

T. Kageyama: Yeah. Where's everyone else?

S. Hinata: Daichi's on patrol until eight, Suga's picking him up when he's done. Yachi's lining up to pick up the cake with y/n-

T. Kageyama: Cool, I'll put the stuff down there. (He signals to the kitchen counter across the living room)

[End of transcript #1]

Kageyama Tobio proceeds to the television, where he sets up his Nintendo on the dock. He then offers a controller to Tsukishima Kei, who accepts, and joins Kageyama in a game of Super Smash Bros. Upon opening the character menu, half of his characters are unavailable for use, evident by the following conversation that ensues between Tsukishima Kei and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #2- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

T. Kageyama: What the fuck?

K. Tsukishima: For someone who's had this game since release, you're pretty shit if you can barely move past the starter characters.

T. Kageyama: Shut up. [He proceeds to the home page of his console.]

K. Tsukishima: Sure.

[End of transcript #2]

Kageyama Tobio then leaps to the dock, unplugging it for a total of forty-two (Hinata Shoyo estimates) seconds. During its downtime, he is seen to be wiping his neck with one hand, tapping at the screen with the other. The game of Super Smash Bros ensues when he replugs it onto the dock, to reveal a fully unlocked character selection screen. Kageyama Tobio, who plays Sonic the Hedgehog, loses 1:2 against Tsukishima Kei, who plays Sora. But don't tell him that Hinata Shoyo kept count. Thanks.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[Report #2- Initiated by Yachi Hitoka]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 7:46pm

Location of occurrence: Living room, kitchen

Yachi Hitoka and y/n are the sixth and seventh guests to arrive at Hinata Shoyo's residence. By the time they step foot into the house, Hinata Shoyo is three vodka redbulls in, courtesy of Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu's contributions to the party's catalogue of available drinks, and is shooting down a fourth with Yamaguchi Tadashi, who is on his first drink of the night. Tsukishima Kei is one can of beer in, and is wrestling Kageyama Tobio on the couch, who is two cans of beer in. Upon entry, Hinata Shoyo slings an arm around Yamaguchi Tadashi, and drags him along to greet the two guests. The following conversation ensues between Yachi Hitoka, Hinata Shoyo, Yamaguchi Tadashi, and y/n.

[Transcript #3- Provided by Yachi Hitoka]

Y/n: What is going on...?

S. Hinata: You're heeeere! C'mon, take a bit from me! [Hinata Shoyo proceeds to tilt his glass too far into his face, and breathe in roughly 250mL of redbull mixed with vodka. He chokes. Yamaguchi Tadashi attempts to worm out of Hinata Shoyo's grasp. His attempt is unsuccessful.]

H. Yachi: If this is what forty minutes looks like, I don't think I wanna know what happens later.

Y/n: Why are they wrestling like... that?

H. Yachi: Men.

T. Yamaguchi: Men.

S. Hinata: [coughs]

Y/n: Understandable.

[End of transcript #3]

Y/n heads to the kitchen counter, where they set a cake into the fridge. Kageyama Tobio breaks free from Tsukishima Kei's sloppy side pin at this moment. Tsukishima Kei heads for the bathroom, and does not return until twenty minutes later. It is unsure what occurred in the bathroom, but not of importance. Kageyama makes a beeline for the fridge, and stubs his toe on the corner of the kitchen counter. He is...unusually uncoordinated, and barges into the space beside y/n, only to grab a third beer and push his way out again. Y/n shoots him a side eye, one that nobody else notices, except for Yachi Hitoka, who is currently writing this report. It's pretty scary, actually, they're a little scary with the side eye. But that is besides the point.

Y/n does not take a drink, but instead heads to the now empty couch, where they pick up the discarded Nintendo Pro controllers off the ground, and invite Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka to a game of Super Smash Bros. Upon entering the game, y/n selects Sonic as their character. Kageyama Tobio returns to the couch with a can of beer at this moment, and the following conversation ensues between y/n, and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #4- Provided by Yachi Hitoka]

T. Kageyama: Why aren't you picking Ness?

Y/n: I feel like Sonic today, so why not?

T. Kageyama: Sonic's difficult, even for me. Fun, though.

Y/n: I never get to play Sonic, so now that I can, I'm using him.

T. Kageyama: ...Fair enough.

[End of transcript #4]

Following the conversation, Kageyama Tobio does not leave the area. He leans with his forearms against the edge of the couch, and his hands hanging just above y/n's shoulders. He does, however, watch the game and the game only. Y/n, who plays Sonic the Hedgehog, ties with Yachi Hitoka, who plays Kirby. They both lose to Yamaguchi Tadashi, who plays Joker.

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[Report #3- initiated by Tsukishima Kei]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 9:02pm

Location of occurrence: Living room

Disclaimer: Tsukishima Kei would like to preface that from this point onwards, his recounts may be liable to errors in continuity and/or accuracy. This is because by 9pm, he was three cans of beer, and one can of Jack Daniels and coke in. Daichi Sawamura, in his fancy police uniform and all, insisted on staying sober, so he will be fact checking any of Tsukishima Kei's recounts up until the point when he leaves the party prematurely. Daichi Sawamura will be aided by Sugawara Koushi, who also insisted on staying sober. For the children, he said. From Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi's departures onwards, any and all informtaion provided by Tsukishima Kei is subject to human error and inaccuracies. Apologies for the inconvenience.

[The following is fact checked by Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi]

Hinata Shoyo, who has managed to hold in four vodka redbulls, one can of beer, and half a vodka cruiser thus far, makes the suggestion to play drunken truth or dare. At this point in time, Kageyama Tobio is three cans of beer, and two cans of Jack Daniels and coke in. He is half-asleep on y/n, who looks visibly distraught, like when a guy you're not really into thinks he's allowed to sleep on your shoulder. At Hinata's proposal of truth or dare, y/n speaks into the air, however, it is inaudible to Tsukishima Kei, who has just returned from another twenty minute break in the bathroom. What can be said? The guy needs his downtime away from the rest of these drunk idiots. (This is a Daichi Sawamura approved comment)

In y/n's hand is a red cup, however, it is unconfirmed whether its contents are alcoholic or not. Everybody sits in a circle on the ground of Hinata Shoyo's living room, and in the fourth round of truth or dare, the following conversation ensues between Hinata Shoyo, y/n, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, and Yachi Hitoka.

[Transcript #5- Provided by Tsukishima Kei (aided by Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi)]

S. Hinata: Who's to SAYYYY...it isn't somebody...RIGHT HEEEEERE! [Hinata Shoyo swirls a bottled vodka cruiser in circles, and spills rougly 15mL of its contents onto his carpet. Nobody notices this. The carpet is not cleaned until the next morning. This will be of importance.]

T. Kageyama: Yeahhhhh...YEAAAAAAH! It HAAAAS to be somebody here, riiiiiiight?...RIIIIIIIGHT? [Kageyama Tobio nudges y/n's shoulders as he prods on. His inquisition is futile, as y/n does not respond directly to his advances. However, they shoot him a look. You know, the look of panic when a guy that you're a little bit into starts totally hitting on you in front of everyone.]

Y/n: Yachi's question was are you into anybody. Yes, I am. Who's next?

K. Tsukishima: Well...it's no FUN if you're not telling us whooooo! C'monnn, a guy hits on you every other day...it's BOOOOORING if you don't tell usssssss...specifics! Yeah, specifics!

T. Kageyama: You're...stiiiiiill getting hit on by OTHERRRR GUYSSSSS? [Kageyama Tobio proceeds to grab y/n by the shoulders, and turn them to face himself. Y/n is visibly taken aback. They shoot another look. the kind of look where your mouth is open and you suddenly stop blinking because you aren't sure how to anymore.]

Y/n: Can we...can we please move on to the next person? Thanks! [Y/n taps Kageyama Tobio's wrists two times. Kageyama Tobio releases y/n from his grasp, and folds his arms.]

H. Yachi: Goooooootcha! [Yachi Hitoka takes a swig from a red cup. Its contents are known to be cream soda and vodka in a 7:1 ratio, courtesy of Hinata Shoyo's contributions to the party's catalogue of available drinks. At this moment, Yachi Hitoka is two drinks in, and that is already two drinks too many.] So, Yamaguchi! Truuuuuuuth...or dare?

[End of transcript #5]

This round of truth or dare continues for another thirteen minutes. No further interactions are recorded between Kageyama Tobio and y/n within this timeframe. Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi leave the party prematurely at 9:20pm.

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[Report #4- Initiated by Tsukishima Kei]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 9:52pm

Location of occurrence: Living room, kitchen

[The following is not fact checked by Daichi Sawamura or Sugawara Koushi, and may contain inaccuracies. Ensure to cross check with multiple reliable sources. As reliable as you can get with a group of hammered, freshly graduated young adults, and their enabling seniors, at least. For the record, Tsukishima Kei has ceased his consumption of alcohol by this point in time. Tsukishima Kei's brother, Tsukishima Akiteru, gives him the talk when he returns home the following day, but that is not of importance. So don't worry about it. Just know that Tsukishima Kei was the second most responsible drinker of the night. Thanks.]

At approximately...9:52pm? Yes, 9:52pm, sure. At 9:52pm, y/n separates from the truth or dare circle, and proceeds towards the kitchen. They are seen filling up a red cup with coke, and nothing else. While y/n is away from the larger group, the following conversation ensues between Nishinoya Yuu, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, and Hinata Shoyo.

[Transcript #6- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

Y. Nishinoya: No...I'VE GOT a GOOOOOOOOD ONE FOR HIM! ...KAGEYAMA! I...daaaaaare YOU!

K. Tsukishima: He asked for a truuuuuuuuuuth, not a...DAAAARE!

S. Hinata: GODDAMN LET HIIIIIIM FINISHHHHHH....

Y. Nishinoya: Yeaaaaaah, asshooooooole. Leeeeeet me FINISHHHHHH! [Nishinoya Yuu sniffs, and stares into the ceiling for four seconds. Not a single thought is coherent in Nishinoya Yuu's mind.]

T. Kageyama: Whaaaat am I dooooing! I'm gaaaaame enough...for ANYTHING! ANYTHIIIIIING! [Kageyama Tobio possesses a look that is a little insane, and proceeds to...beat at his chest? What the fuck? Did he actually beat at his fucking chest? (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved. Please cross check with reliable sources.)]

Y. Nishinoya: I daaaare YOU! To smack y/n's aaaaaaaass...hahah...ha.... [Nishinoya Yuu falls over to the side. He remains in slumber for the next thirty-two minutes.]

S. Hinata: Thaaaaaat...is CRAAAZY! Kaaaageyamaaaaa...are youuuuu! Gaaaaaame enoughhhhh!

[End of transcript #5]

Kageyama Tobio pushes himself off the ground at Hinata Shoyo and Nishinoya Yuu's provocations. He snickers to himself, and walks to the kitchen, where y/n is placing the two litre bottle of coke into the fridge. Kageyama Tobio proceeds to advance towards y/n, and smacks their behind, before…squeezing it? And then jiggling it in his- what the…fuck is going on? (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved, please cross check with reliable sources.) Y/n snaps around at the abrupt impact, and empties the contents of their cup onto Kageyama Tobio. It's a shame Nishinoya Yuu is too knocked out to witness what he has provoked. Sucks. The following commotion ensues between Kageyama Tobio, and y/n. Please note that parts of the conversation were inaudible from the truth or dare circle's location.

[Transcript #6- Provided by Tsukishima Kei, Yachi Hitoka, Hinata Shoyo, and Yamaguchi Tadashi]

Y/n: WHATTTTT the FUCK KAGEYAMA.

T. Kageyama: [inaudible]

Y/n: Oh...my fucking God! You are! Very drunk!

T. Kageyama: [Turns to the truth or dare circle.] TOOOLD YOU! I'M GAAAAAME ENOUGH! FOR AAAAAAAANYTHING!

Y/n: [inaudible]...NISHINOYA! [Y/n shoots a look towards the truth or dare circle. One of disdain. Contempt, even. In hindsight, the dare was much too inappropriate. Here is a reminder for everybody to apologise at the next available chance.]

T. Kageyama: Soooorry, [inaudible].

Y/n: [inaudible]...God, I should have never did it to you the first time. Not the place. Not! the place! [Y/n proceeds to grab Kageyama Tobio by the shoulders, turning him around. Kageyama Tobio is ushered into the bathroom, alongside y/n. Y/n shoots one more look at the truth or dare circle. Tsukishima Kei, as he writes this transcript, is beginning to understand Yachi Hitoka's slight fear of y/n. It's the side eye. They are definitely a little scary with the side eye.]

T. Kageyama: Ouuuuuu, the BAAAATHROOM! Thaaat's a firstttttt. [Kageyama Tobio wiggles his brows, and it's kind of creepy. Like when a guy is trying a little too hard to get laid, and is throwing every existing pickup line at you. Y/n smacks him in the side of his head, and pushes Kageyama Tobio into the bathroom. They slam the bathroom door shut and lock it. The two do not return until fifteen minutes later. It is unsure what occurred during that timeframe.]

[End of transcript #6]

When Kageyama Tobio and y/n return to the living room, it is approximately 10:12pm. Nishinoya Yuu is still asleep on the floor, and shows mild signs of...nevermind. Yachi Hitoka and Yamaguchi Tadashi have moved on to drunken karaoke. Hinata Shoyo and Tanaka Ryunosuke learn to do the Rasputin beside Nishinoya Yuu's unconscious body. Kageyama Tobio and y/n settle beside Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka respectively, and pretend to be at a concert where the singers can barely remember their own lyrics and aren't sure what notes to hit. Tsukishima Kei wants to go home, but hasn't gathered a satisfactory amount of blackmail yet. Therefore, Tsukishima Kei stays the night. He passes out on the living room carpet at 12:03am.

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[Report #6- Initiated by Yamaguchi Tadashi and Hinata Shoyo]

Date of occurrence: March 30

Time of occurrence: 12:12am

Location of occurrence: Living room

Disclaimer: Any and all recounts made my Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi from this point onwards may be liable to errors and inaccuracies. Since Tsukishima Kei made the disclaimer, the two believed they too were responsible for making one of their own. They admit that they were not responsible drinkers. They also admit that this will, undoubtedly, happen again.

12:12am is a time of silence. By this time, Tsukishima Kei has fallen asleep on the carpet, just beside Hinata Shoyo’s cruiser spill. He does not wake until 11:13am of March 30. Yachi Hitoka leaves the residence at approximately 11:30pm, alongside Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu, who are all picked up by Kiyoko Shimizu. Yamaguchi Tadashi and Hinata Shoyo are positioned at the kitchen counter, where they eat the graduation cake with their bare hands. At this point in time, Yamaguchi Tadashi has ceased all alcohol consumption, tapping out at two vodka redbulls, and two cream soda and vodkas in a 5:1 ratio. Hinata Shoyo, who has thrown up twice between this report and the last, has also ceased all alcohol consumption, tapping out at four vodka redbulls, one can of beer, and one vodka cruiser. Does cake work as a hangover cure? So sinful, so decadent…who gets to eat the happy graduation chocolate sign? Pay that no mind, for it is unimportant. What is of importance, is Kageyama Tobio and y/n’s current form.

Kageyama Tobio, who has tapped out after three cans of beer, two cans of Jack Daniels and coke, and an additional shot of pure vodka, stirs in his half slumber. This is no regular half slumber, but is one of intimacy, and of lovesick vulnerability, evident by his entire body splayed across y/n’s lap. At the time of this report, it is unsure whether y/n has consumed any amount of alcohol, but their sobriety is to be applauded regardless. (Please do not inform Kageyama Tobio of Hinata Shoyo’s comments on his character. Thanks.)

Y/n proceeds to bounce their leg twice, no, three times. Yes, three times is what it takes for Kageyama Tobio to stir awake. Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi advance towards the couch at this moment, with the intention of smearing cake over Kageyama Tobio and y/n. However, upon entering the vicinity of the living room, the following conversation ensues between Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shoyo, and y/n. Please be reminded that Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi are both drunk out of their mind, and that the conversation was one of whispers. For that reason, any and all details of the transcript are liable to errors, redaction, and/or inaccuracies. Apologies for the inconvenience.

[Transcript #7- Provided by Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi]

T. Kageyama: [inaudible]…leave?

Y/n: Do you? [inaudible]…car [inaudible]

T. Kageyama: I don’t [inaudible]…ow. [Kageyama Tobio rubs at his temples. Hinata Shoyo believes he is crying, but also don’t tell Kageyama Tobio he thinks that. (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved. Please cross check with reliable sources.)]

Y/n: Alright. Upsies now, I’ll drop you off. [Y/n pushes Kageyama Tobio’s body off of their lap. Kageyama Tobio whines. Hinata Shoyo is recording this entire ordeal, but there is frosting on the camera from fumbling for his phone with cake-covered hands. It is unclear who is speaking in the video, or what is happening, really.]

T. Kageyama: Drop me…offffffff? BUT I THOOOOOUGHT- [Y/n proceeds to punch Kageyama Tobio in the side, to which he doubles over. Kageyama Tobio begins to giggle uncontrollably on the ground.]

Y/n: Yes. I'm dropping you off, Tobio. Hinata? [Y/n turns to Hinata Shoyo, who throws his phone onto the ground upon being spotted. They leave the couch, and attempt to pull Kageyama Tobio to his feet. Kageyama Tobio is still giggling, and is unable to find his grounding.]

S. Hinata: Y-yeeeeeees...? [Why are they looking at Hinata Shoyo like that? No, seriously, he's getting scared thinking about it again as he writes this transcript.]

Y/n: I think I'll head out, Kageyama needs a drop off and I'm getting tired. This was fun! Thanks for holding the party, happy grad! I'll catch you around, yeah?

S. Hinata: Of COUUUUUUUUURSE...! Youuuu're NEVER! Getting rid of USSSSS!

Y/n: Yeah, of course. See you soon, Hinata. Good luck with the cleanup. [Y/n has finally managed to pull Kageyama Tobio to his feet. They yank Kageyama Tobio by the arm, and push him out the front door.]

[End of transcript #7]

At 12:15am, Kageyama Tobio and Y/n leave Hinata Shoyo's residence. Yamaguchi Tadashi, and Tsukishima Kei do not leave until the day of March 30.

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[Report #7- Initiated by Tsukishima Kei, Hinata Shoyo, Yamaguchi Tadashi]

Date of occurrence: March 30

Time of occurrence: 11:13am

Location of occurrence: Living room

Tsukishima Kei is the first to wake from the stench of the cruiser spill by his nose. God, fuck, everything hurts. Is this what death feels like? A hangover? Also, that spill? Foul, fucking rank. It comes as no surprise that vodka, steeped into the fuzz of an unwashed carpet, would undoubtedly stink. That is beside the point. Tsukishima Kei leaves the ground at the stench, and searches for his phone. He is afraid. He promised to be home by midnight. His brother is going to kill him. Following two minutes of mindless smacking at the ground, Tsukishima Kei finally finds his device. Upon closer inspection, however, the following conversation is shown on the phone.

[Transcript #8- Provided by Y/n]

Y/n: r u dead???? -1:02am

Y/n: hurry up i wanna sleep:( -1:02am

Y/n: im not hearing water istg if ur not showering im gonna fucking drown u babe i dunked SODA all over u -1:03am

Y/n: r u hearing me -1:05am

Y/n: kageyama tobio r u hearing me because i still am not hearing water from my bathroom -1:05am

Y/n: if you don't shower ur sleeping on the ground tn -1:07am

Y/n: tobio r u done omg hurry up i wanna sleep sb -1:27am

[4 missed calls from: Y/n]

[End of transcript #8]

Upon this discovery, Tsukishima Kei wakes Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi, who sleep on the couch for the night. The three ruminate on their next course of action, before the phone rings. The following conversation ensues between Tsukishima Kei, and y/n. Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi choose to act as bystanders.

[Transcript #9- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

Y/n: ...Fuck.

K. Tsukishima: So.

Y/n: He dropped it while wrestling you, didn't he.

K. Tsukishima: ...We wrestled?

[End of transcript #9]

[Case Closed]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

bonus:

When you realise that Tobio's phone is MIA, he finally returns from your bathroom. Barely clothed, he shakes his head, and droplets of water come flying from his hair. His feet are heavy against the floor, and he isn't sure if he'll even make it to your bed at this rate, until you come darting out of your room, phone in hand.

"Tobio, where is your phone?"

"My phone?" His phone, it's in the bathroom, like it always is when he showers, right? Tobio grunts, annoyed at the extra return journey to the bathroom. He swipes at his T-shirt on the bathroom counter-right, that's where his shirt has gone. What meets his fingers is cold porcelain, and he frowns, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Not...here? Good question...where is it?"

You drag Tobio to your room, shutting the door behind you. When he spares no time to roll into your bed, blissfully unaware, you glare at him, and remind yourself that you do, in fact, love the guy. Even if he drunkenly slapped your ass in front of everybody four hours prior, forgot about your warnings and drank much too far past his limit, and has by now, probably outed your relationship to everyone at the party, despite keeping it perfectly hidden for over a year. Unfortunately, you remind yourself once again that you indeed, do love Kageyama Tobio, so this can wait. What is important now, is catching up on lost slumber, and forcing Tobio to join you.

Crawling into bed beside him, you finally melt into his arms for the first time tonight, away from the eyes of the Karasuno volleyball team. Tobio smiles, satisfied with the way that you're relaxing against him, instead of pushing him off and smacking his head. He inhales the scent of your shampoo, slips his hands beneath your shirt to hold your bare waist. This is comfortable. You are comfortable. Better than whatever he was on at that party.

"Oh well, who cares? You probably dropped it while wrestling with Tsukishima."

"...I wrestled Tsukishima?"

author's note:

I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write and i also hope it's actually good because it's so crack that there's not really any fluff until the bonus bit at the end BUT i'll come back with some proper butterfly inducing fluff and or angst soon!! love u all!!

tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @staraxiaa @catsoupki @hiraethwa @laughingfcx @akaakeis @kuroppiii @tulip-room @wyrcan @wishi-selfships @fiannee @bailey-reeds @zzwon

ok thank u for waiting n reading love u all see u soon bye bye

[foreverisntenough]

‘Aperture’

Summary: A professional footballer with a playboy reputation finds his world reframed when he meets a talented photographer who captures the light and depth he’s never seen in himself. As their friendship develops, he finds himself illuminated by her presence—a stark contrast to the shallow spotlight he’s used to, but her guarded heart keeps her from fully trusting his intentions. Their friendship develops, like film in a darkroom, shifting into something far more intimate. But when their connection begins to blur the lines between friendship and something more, he realizes she’s the light he’s been chasing without knowing it and fights to prove he’s ready for something real. Yet, their love hangs in the balance—will the film of their story overexpose and fade, or will it develop into something vivid and timeless. Sometimes, love is about adjusting the focus, letting in the right light, and trusting the process.

Chapter Index:

Fashion Index: For all Y/N's looks! No more bad links!

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of drugs, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!]

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Please read:  Little note from me about him and one more about our community In summary: This is a swan song fic for someone I no longer will support once he leaves my club. The fic was never really about "him" as much as it was a fictional story and character I got to create and share with you all. I hope you still love reading it as much as I still love writing it. xx

Chapter 13- 'Stillness & Sun' | 'Aperture'

word count - 14.5k

“So… Do I get to see any of your photos?” Trent gently broke the silence of the darkroom. You hesitated, your breath catching, because he wasn’t asking to see your work—he was but whether or not he knew it, he was asking for a piece of you. A window into your world, the way you saw things, the way you framed light and shadow, the way you captured the moments that felt too fleeting to hold onto any other way. 

“I can show you my work instagram.” You smiled softly, your voice low, avoidant. 

“Nah, I’ve seen that.” he cooed and your heart faltered. Trent let his eyes flutter shut for half a second feeling like he just outed himself but he didn’t care, not here. Not in the quiet dark of the room with you. “I mean,” he continued, an easy, teasing smile tugging at his lips, “I don’t think Instagram would do them justice after all this. And an iPhone?” He shook his head. “Not the same.” Your chest ached, something tender and raw unfurling inside you. Because he got it. He listened in a way so few did. He listened to you, like the first time he used your film camera in his bedroom and you explained that very same thing. 

“Yeah…” You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll show you.” His smile was slow, curling at the corners, something boyish and sweet and so incredibly genuine that you had to look away before you did something reckless. Before you let yourself fall even further. You turned, leading him past the drying rack where fresh prints hung in the soft glow of the safelight towards a work table. He followed without question, without hesitation. Your fingers brushed, magnetized, neither of you moving away. His touch was barely there, but it burned.

The film developed behind you, the images forming slowly, unseen until they were ready. But the chemistry happening in those trays had nothing on the way Trent looked at you now. Nothing on the slow, inevitable pull between you. And you knew, with a certainty that terrified you, that whatever was happening here—whatever was growing between you and Trent—was developing just the same. Slowly. Beautifully. Unstoppable.

—

[Here With Me - D4vd]

The darkroom hummed with quiet, the red safelight casting a warm glow over the table where your world lay spread before you. A beautiful mess of memories—black-and-white prints curling slightly at the edges, red chinagraph pencils rolling idly across the surface, boxes of time preserved in matte and gloss. Trent stood beside you, his fingers ghosting over the photographs, careful, almost reverent. He wasn’t just looking—he was seeing.

“Wow… these are beautiful, baby.” His voice was soft, almost awed, as though speaking too loudly might shatter something delicate in the air between you. You swallowed, brushing a thumb over one of the images—a hazy, sun-drenched frame of your childhood street you took when you visited last. 

“Thank you… these ones are just my life in silly little photos.” You shrugged, downplaying what was spread before you. What you never showed anyone. These weren’t the glossy, polished editorials that graced magazines or ones that lurked in corners of the internet racking up likes. These were yours. Snapshots of passing time, the things you didn’t want to forget. You rarely even looked at them yourself. Every January, a ritual—develop, box, tie shut. Archive the past. No peeking. Keep moving. But now, they were laid bare, vulnerable beneath Trent’s gaze.

“Nah, serious. These are amazing.” He picked up a photo of friends gathered around a restaurant table, flipping it over. Inked in your precise, slanted handwriting: names, date, location. A moment etched in time. “So what’s with all these red pens?” He smirked, placing the photo down then picking up a red pencil, holding it up between his fingers.

“Chinagraphs,” you corrected softly.

“Chinagraph?” He echoed, amused.

“Chinagraph,” you repeated, a little laugh spilling out, unable to hide your fondness for his curiosity. “I’ll show you one that isn’t so battered. Hold on. Fresh out the box is best.” You cooed, turning away from the table. He watched you move, eyes following as you crossed the room toward a cabinet. The low red light caught in your hair, in the soft lines of your body. “I just write little notes sometimes,” you continued, pulling down another box of pencils. “Names and dates, things like that, maybe a thought, just… for me. Things I want to make sure I remember.” Your voice carried softly, fading into the stillness of the room. And Trent, left alone in the quiet, let his fingers drift over the scattered prints, photos of your life this past year to date, idly picking one up. His fingers grazing the glossy surface of the film photo before noticing another clinging to its back. As he peeled them apart, the ink stuck for a moment, the faint, tacky resistance breaking with a soft, almost imperceptible pull—like a whispered secret between the two images. He held the print closer and a sharp breath caught in his throat.

The image was grainy, the contrast stark—his own figure, illuminated by the amber glow of a Parisian streetlight like a memory. He remembered the moment instantly. The alleyway. After the Louis Vuitton show as he watched you scamper down the cobblestones. The weight of something unsaid lingering in the cold night air. A photo he never knew existed of a moment he knew he’d never forget. Before everything changed. Before you got to know each other in ways that were irreversible. His pulse pounded in his ears as he turned it over, the breath in his chest locking as he read the words etched into the back in red. There was no name, no restaurant to remember, only your thoughts because this photo was different, he was different. He wasn’t a person to remember, he was a feeling that you knew could never rid your heart of. 

‘I think I’m in love with someone I don’t know. I feel like I could love him in a way that even when he breaks my heart, I’d thank him for it.  But I think I’m in love with someone I don’t know. I know it.’ -  Paris, Rue Perrault.

The room blurred for a moment, his vision tunneling. ‘Love.’ His chest tightened. Before he could even process the weight of it, curiosity tugged him toward the one that had been hidden, glued to the moment held in his hand that made his heart ache. He reached for the other, his thumb brushing over its edges as if unveiling something private, something waiting just for him. It was you. You, draped in soft sheets. His sheets. The harsh spill of light leaking across the frame, marring the image where film had been damaged from when you dropped your camera outside the Burberry event when he stood you up. 

The two photos had been kept together—bound in the quiet way that meant something, even if you had never spoken it aloud. Like you had kept the two photos together on purpose. And you had. You wrote your heartbreak on them, unable to even pencil his name, but wanted them to disappear together so you could be 85 of age and look back on something that could’ve been. And then Trent turned the photo over with hands that suddenly didn’t feel like his own. His throat was dry as his eyes narrowed on your handwriting, no name, no place to remember, only your thoughts again, his heart hammering against his ribs.

‘Even if he was fleeting, he was perfectly mine if only just for a moment. A deluded dream where my love for him might’ve been returned.’ Hale, His House.

A breath shuddered out of him. He felt like he might black out, the air around him suddenly too thick, too heavy.

“Any good ones?” Your voice broke through the fog, light and unsuspecting as you approached. Trent jolted, panic seizing his limbs. He scrambled, picking up another print at random, clearing his throat.

“Uh, yeah, yeah… This one of you and Cam’s nice.” His voice was tight, too sincere to be suspicious, but his pulse was still racing, his grip tightening slightly around the paper in his hand. You smiled softly, stepping closer to glance over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, was her birthday.” You sighed looking at you and Campbell smiles cemented and printed into a memory. Then your gaze flickered downward. The breath in your lungs vanished. There, half-hidden beneath the prints, was the photo. That photo Trent had just discarded too fast. The one you thought tucked away to never be seen by you again and definitely not by him. Your heart slammed against your ribs. Coyly, you leaned forward, your hand moving with the kind of practiced ease only someone used to hiding their own secrets possessed. With a feigned air of distraction, you placed your palm over it, fingers pressing into the soft texture of the paper as you smoothly reached for another, a careful sleight of hand. You didn’t look at Trent. And he—hands frozen at his sides, mind reeling—didn’t look at you either. Because if he did… he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

—

“You wanna grab some dinner?” he asked after a long while later,  his voice calm, easy, like this was nothing, like his pulse wasn’t skipping as he waited for your answer. You hummed, nodding, and just like that, the two of you—friends, like you told yourselves—went to dinner the way no two friends did. He stole bites from your plate without asking, and you wiped your thumb over the corner of his lips without thinking. He made you try a sip of his drink, grinning at your scrunched-up nose when it was stronger than expected. You split dessert, your fork scraping against his as you both went for the last bite, laughing as he let you have it, nudging your knee with his under the table. It was natural, too natural, like you were something inevitable, like this thing between you wasn’t something fragile, held together by the unspoken. And then, like all good friends, you went back to your apartment.

The city hummed softly outside your window, the golden glow of streetlights filtering in through the curtains, casting shifting shapes against the walls. The quiet rhythm of cars passing below, the occasional distant laugh of strangers returning home, the familiar creaks of your apartment—it all felt muted, insignificant compared to the warmth that stretched between you and Trent. The floor was softer than it should’ve been beneath you, or maybe that was just because you were pressed against him, your back against his chest, his legs bracketing yours. His warmth seeped into your skin, through your clothes, through your ribs, into the parts of you that you didn’t let anyone else touch. His arms rested lazily over your lap, fingertips grazing the silk fabric of your printed trousers, [ref index] featherlight, absentminded. You reached for the stack of magazines beside you, pulling one onto your lap, flipping through the glossy pages, leaning your head back to see his reaction.

“That’s yours?” Trent murmured, tilting his head as you landed on a familiar spread.

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft with something like pride, something like vulnerability. He asked to see more after the dark room but the only ‘more’ left were the things that you shared with the rest of the world, everything else, you’d already bared to him whether or not he knew it.  He traced a finger over the image, over the way you’d framed the model in the perfect light, over the composition that felt so distinctly you.

“Wow,” he exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re unreal, you know that?” Your face grew warm, and you tipped your head back against his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“It’s just a job.” You murmured.

“Nah,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s not just a job. This—it’s like art… it’s like you.” You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just leaned further into him, letting the silence wrap around you. You pulled out more prints, some from old shoots, some never released but he still asked for more. Everything Trent did was captured in front of cameras, and everything you did was behind it. He liked the anonymity of your job, maybe he envied it, or maybe he just loved that it was yours. You eventually pulled your computer onto your lap, clicking through folders, pointing out shots you loved, campaigns you hated.

“That one—she was incredible,” you mused, nodding toward an image of a model with striking eyes, the kind that burned into you. “She moved like she wasn’t even real.”

“And him?” Trent asked, nodding at another frame—one with a famous footballer, someone he knew on the pitch, sleek and controlled, the picture of cool perfection. You wrinkled your nose. 

“Bit of a dickhead.” You smirked. 

“Yeah?” Trent laughed, a low, rich sound that vibrated against your spine, and you felt it everywhere. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Wouldn’t take direction, acted like he knew better. Actually has shit style unless someone does it for him. Some of you footballers are the worst.” You giggled teasingly. He tsked, shaking his head dramatically. 

“Not me though, right?” You turned your head just slightly, just enough to see the teasing glint in his eye, the dimple in his cheek. You let the moment stretch, let your silence play with him.

“Jury’s still out.” You murmured. His breath hitched, barely, but you felt it. And you felt the way his fingers tightened slightly over your knee, the way his chin dipped, nose grazing the curve of your jaw like he couldn’t help himself. Too soft. You let your gaze drift to the photos on your wall, ones you had taken for yourself and some that were for the world. “I like that they live here,” you said, quieter now, as if sharing a secret. “It’s like I get to build my own world. I spend so much time capturing things—moments, people, colors, light—and they all exist out there, in the world, for everyone. But here, in my apartment, it’s all curated, just for me. Just the ones I like. Just mine.” Trent looked at you with a soft smile, patient. He was listening. You knew he was because you could feel it in the way he held you, like he was scared to break the moment. “I don’t know,” you sighed, tilting your head to rest in the crook of his neck. “Sorry. I sound so dramatic today.” You giggled a bit embarrassed. “It’s stupid I just like having my photographs… they come to life in this place that’s so—”

“Still,” Trent finished for you. His voice was thick, deeper somehow. “Not stupid. Not dramatic either.” He hummed as you turned slightly, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, like he was looking at something delicate, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. And you felt it, that unbearable truth pressing in on you from every angle—this wasn’t friendship. This had never been friendship. Not with the way his fingers brushed over your skin like a whisper, not with the way his breath fanned over your cheek, not with the way your heart ached with something terrifying and sweet when you looked at him. But neither of you said a word. Because saying it would make it real. And if it was real, it could break.

So you stayed there. The carpet soft beneath you, but not as soft as him. Trent was solid where you leaned against him, his legs staying around yours, his warmth seeping into your skin, steady and sure. Your laptop balanced on your thighs, the screen casting a cool glow against your fingers as you scrolled, images flickering past like memories trapped in the stillness he understood. His chin rested against your shoulder, the weight of it familiar now, something that no longer startled but settled. The faintest scrape of scruff ghosted against your skin each time he shifted, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he took in the images with you. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. He’d simply lift a hand, point at one, and wait. You could feel his curiosity in the way his thumb traced absentminded circles over your hip, his fingers brushing over your trousers like he wasn’t even aware of it. You’d pause, letting your fingertips skim over the trackpad as you pulled the image up, letting him study it. The quiet stretched between you, unhurried, easy.  His breath fanned against your skin, slower now, deeper, like he was steadying himself. Like he knew as well as you did that if either of you moved, if either of you acknowledged the weight of this moment, you wouldn’t be able to take it back. But you could feel it. The way his grip had changed, no longer teasing, no longer playful, not tentative but something else—something solid, something dangerous. Your eyes stayed fixed on the screen, pretending not to notice how his other hand had found a home against your thigh, his thumb brushing idle circles, too gentle to be innocent, too light to be ignored. The city pulsed beyond your window, neon flickering against the glass, faded car horns, voices, life moving in endless rhythm. But in here, there was only this—the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the scent of him wrapping around you, something clean, something warm. You shifted slightly, leaning into him without thinking, the curve of your spine fitting into the hollow of his chest like a key slotting into place. Trent made a sound—low, barely there—but his hand slid a little firmer over your hip, as if holding you there, as if making sure you weren’t going anywhere. He tilted his head, his jaw grazing your bare shoulder as he peered at the screen, his focus unshaken. But yours—yours had already started to slip, caught up in the way he felt against you, the way he smelled, the way his touch lingered, featherlight but constant. 

—

You continued to scroll through your photos, the glow of the screen flickering over your face, casting soft light over his. Trent’s fingers flexed slightly where they rested against your hip, absentminded but grounding, his touch light, like he didn’t even realize he was holding you closer with each second. Then you remembered. The darkroom. His words ‘Nah, I’ve seen that.’ Trent’s had seen your instagram. The way his voice had gone quiet with regret but followed with certainty in the way his hands had traced the edges of your work like he was afraid to disturb something sacred. The way he asked questions and listened to their answers. His presence settling somewhere deep in your chest, tangled with the low red glow of the room, with the scent of chemicals and old film, with the way he’d watched you—not just looking, but seeing.

“T?” Your voice was soft as you broke the quiet, and he hummed in response, his fingers still absently drawing patterns over your side. “So, you’ve seen my Instagram?” The question was light, teasing, but laced with something more. Something layered beneath the words. Trent hesitated for only a second, but you felt it—the warmth creeping up his neck, the way his hold on you tightened just slightly. Then he chuckled, low and sheepish.

“Erm, yeah. I’ve seen it.” His voice dipped, smoothing into something softer, something knowing. “I mean, you’ve worked with a lot of ballers. I never knew what was behind the lens looked this good, but yeah, I’ve seen it.” You turned slightly, shifting in his hold to meet his eyes, feeling the way his gaze settled on you, something unreadable swimming beneath the surface. “You ever see my Instagram?” He asked, his smile was easy, teasing, but there was something else in the way he asked it—something almost nervous, almost hesitant. You smiled, that kind of close-mouthed, cheek-aching smile that betrayed you completely. Yes. You had seen it. All of it.

“I’ve seen it.” You admitted, bashful, leaving out the part about zooming in on that photo of him shirtless on the exercise bike. Trent grinned, like he knew anyway. “I don’t have anything clever to say though.” You giggled, deflecting. “And that’s not fair. Mine’s for work.”

“Mine’s for work,” he mimicked, laughing, squeezing you a little tighter, playful. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but you didn’t pull away.

“No, not the same. Your face is on your page, mine isn’t.” He tilted his head, considering, then smirked.

“Nah, it’s the same. ‘Cause I’ve seen that other Instagram of yours…” His voice was different now, low, amused—but there was something else behind it too. Your stomach flipped, butterflies fluttering wildly at the thought—Trent, scrolling through your personal page, seeing the version of you that wasn’t edited, wasn’t polished, wasn’t meant for him. And yet, he had seen it. And he’d especially seen you stretched out on that lounger in Ibiza, back arched, sun dripping over you in a way that should be illegal in only a tiny tiny string bikini… maybe it was meant for him. 

“Really?” You managed, tilting your head, trying to stay composed. Trying not to betray just how much that affected you. “And you didn’t want to follow me?” You asked and he smirked, tilting his chin, watching you closely.

“You didn’t follow me…” He countered. You exhaled a soft laugh, shaking your head. You leaned back into his chest, settling into the warmth of him, moving your laptop and picking up your phone, resting it lightly in your hands. The air was thick with something unsaid, something you could both feel but neither of you dared to acknowledge. Your fingers moved slowly, typing his name into the search bar, as if drawing out the moment would keep reality at bay a little longer. His profile loaded instantly—the familiar blue check, the carefully curated grid of photos, the snapshots of his world. Your world, too, in some ways. But that wasn’t the thought that made your stomach tighten.

“There,” you murmured, hitting follow. “Got yourself a new follower. Twelve million and one.” The words were meant to be light, playful, but they settled strangely between you. For a second, the room went quiet, too quiet. You tensed, suddenly aware of how silly you felt—like you’d made something too obvious, cracked open something too fragile. It felt like you were asking for a transaction he wasn’t going to complete. You could already hear the self-reproach in your head. So stupid. And then— A deep chuckle, the kind that started in his chest and rumbled through you like a slow-moving current. You didn’t just hear it—you felt it. The way it vibrated against your back, the way it warmed the air between you. Trent couldn’t move, you were caging him in between your body and sofa. “Stop. Now I’m embarrassed,” you whined, dropping your phone to cover your face with your hands, but that only made him laugh harder, squeezing you a bit tighter in reassurance.

“Baby, my phone’s charging in the kitchen,” he said, still amused. “I’m gonna follow you back. Relax, beautiful.” You huffed, still embarrassed, turning and peeking at him through your fingers. He shifted behind you, still wedged between you and the sofa still attempting to get up. But as much as you wanted that follow, you also didn’t want him to move.

“Don’t move,” you whined, reluctant to leave the cocoon of his arms.

“Alright,” he relented, the humor still lacing his voice, his hold on your gentle but reassuring. But then, a smirk. “How about I stay right here if you go get my phone, hmm?” He purred. You paused thinking for a moment weighing the stakes. “I have something important to do. Time-sensitive.” He teased you. You narrowed your eyes at him but climbed up anyway, shaking your head as you padded toward the kitchen. His phone sat facedown on the counter, the sleek device somehow carrying the same weight as a loaded question in your hands. When you returned, he was exactly where you left him as promised—easy and unbothered, draped against the sofa on the floor still sprawled out, open, waiting. The moment you nestled back in between his legs, he pulled you against him again, one arm wrapping securely around your waist, his lips pressing briefly to the top of your head in a way that felt far too natural. “Thank you,” he murmured, unlocking his phone. His fingers moved with purpose, navigating to Instagram. “What’s your handle?” He asked. He felt your breath hitch before he laughed—a full, delighted, caught red-handed kind of laugh. Feigning like he hadn’t ever seen the instagram he’d searched for too many times.

“Oh, fuck you!” You giggled twisted, swatting at his chest as he tried to dodge you, his grin wide and teasing. He was so obnoxious making it out like you were alone in your pining, that you knew his handle and he didn’t know yours. Albeit a lie.  

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He admitted through laughter, his hold on to you tightening, sitting up a little more as his lips brushing your temple in a fleeting, absentminded kiss. He typed the handle he did in fact know and pressed follow. And when he did, it felt like he had wax sealed something. “Gotcha self a new follower too, baby.” Your heart tripped over itself at the way he said it—baby—like it belonged to you, like he hadn’t even thought twice about saying it.

“Knew that username awfully quick, y’know,” you teased, though your voice was softer now, a little breathless.

“Shhh. Don’t worry about that.” He smirked, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His voice was a low rasp, rough in a way that made your stomach clench. And then he leaned back again, sinking into the baseboard of the sofa, taking you with him, his arms locked around you, holding you in place. His hands—broad, warm, familiar—slid beneath your little cream colored tank top, fingers spreading over the bare skin of your stomach. You shivered, but you didn’t pull away. Didn’t want to. The touch wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed. It was just him. Just you. Just the two of you pretending that nothing had changed, when in reality, everything already had. “For the record, I’ll take the one over the 12 million.” He whispered against your skin. The room felt smaller somehow, the air thicker, humming with something you couldn’t name—or maybe just shouldn’t.  His warmth wrapped around you like a second skin, his arm firm across you, fingers splayed, pressing into the softness of you like he needed to commit the feeling to memory. But reality loomed, you hesitated before saying it, before shattering the spell. Before forcing yourself to remember what this was supposed to be.

“It’s getting late…” You whispered, staring at the walls of your apartment but seeing nothing.

“I know…” he hummed, but he didn’t move. Not even a little. And neither did you.

—

It was a mistake—crawling into bed with him again. You both knew it. But mistakes never felt this warm, this right. Trent’s arms were wrapped around you, his hands splayed against your back like he was trying to hold you there, keep you from slipping away. But the grip was hesitant, unsure, as if he didn’t know whether to pull you closer or let you go. His heartbeat was erratic beneath your cheek, a quiet betrayal of the calm he was trying to feign. His fingers twitched against your spine, the only real sign that his mind was racing. He wasn’t calm, not even close. But you? You melted against him so easily, so effortlessly, like slipping into something familiar. Something that felt like home. And maybe that was the part that scared him the most. The weight of the night settled over you both, thick with the things you wouldn’t—couldn’t—say.

He didn’t know Cassie had told you anything, didn’t know if you caught his almost-slip the other night when he fucked you like he loved you, the word almost leaking out. He only knew that you were here now, draped against him, your breath fanning against his neck, your fingers curled lightly against his skin like you belonged there. But did you? That was the question eating at him, clawing at the edges of his restraint. Because earlier, in the darkroom, he’d read something in your voice etched in hand writing—something he wasn’t sure he was supposed to see. It was in the way you spoke about him, the way your words danced around the idea that you maybe loved him just the same. 

The possibility clawed at him, wrapping tight around his ribs. Did you love him? If you had, if you still did—why could you be here now, nestled against him like it didn’t matter? Unless… unless it didn’t anymore. Unless you didn’t. Was the absence of hesitation tonight proof that you didn’t anymore? That you never did?  It had lingered in his chest, gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Had you meant what was written on those photos? Had the moment passed? And all this ambiguity allowed him to get in your bed. To hold you the way he was holding you now.  But his chest ached at the thought, a dull, throbbing pain he didn’t know how to soothe. He didn’t want to hurt you. He’d already hurt you once—whether you admitted it or not. He was terrified of doing it again. So he said nothing.

He didn’t want to know the answer to all those questions swirling around in his brain. He wasn’t ready. If he asked, if he cracked this fragile moment open, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to piece it back together. He didn’t want to know that you’d possibly moved past something he was permanently stuck on. And in the silence, your body pressed closer, nuzzling deeper into him like you were drawn by something unseen, something unspoken. He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening for just a second before smoothing over your spine, a touch too light, too reverent, his lips barely brushing the crown of your head.  And then—stillness.

And in the stillness, you pressed closer, your body curling into him like instinct, like something your heart knew even if your mind refused to speak it. No words. No confessions. Just the quiet hum of the city beyond your window, the warmth of your limbs tangled with his, the silent scream of love neither of you could say aloud. You fell asleep like that, sinking deeper into him, into the feeling. And no sex was needed.

—

The morning sunlight stretched lazily through your apartment, golden streaks casting warmth over the space Trent had made himself entirely too comfortable in. He lounged on your sofa like he lived there, legs spread, remote in hand, scrolling aimlessly through channels on the telly as if he had nowhere else to be. You smirked from your place against the kitchen island, stirring the spoon idly in your cup of tea, watching him in nothing but the shirt he’d peeled off last night and draped over your shoulders this morning. It still smelled like him—clean, fresh, with the faintest trace of his cologne lingering in the fabric. Everything felt too charged, too heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. So you did what you always did—made light of it, pushed at the tension with blunt humor, hoping to defuse it.

“So you didn’t want to fuck last night?” you teased, voice lilting, sweet like honey, though your stomach twisted slightly even as you said it. You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe you wanted to test him, to see if last night had rattled him as much as it had you. Maybe you just wanted to hear him say it, confirm what you already knew. But as soon as the words left your lips, a teasing lilt masking the ache underneath, you regretted it.

“Nah,” he said smoothly, gaze unmoving from the television. “Not interested.” It was a tease but you didn’t hear it. The casual dismissal landed like a slap, your smirk faltering as your heart dropped into your stomach. Stupid. So stupid. You never should have said anything. Of course he didn’t, you forced him into being your ‘friend’ like an idiot.  Trent caught the shift in your expression from the corner of his eye, the way your body stiffened, the subtle dip in your shoulders like you were retreating.  Of course, he did. He knew you too well, read you too easily. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips as he stood, stretching a little before making his way toward you. When he stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Y/N,” he laughed, his voice low, rich, playful. “What kind of question is that?” He asked incredulously, almost amused, but there was something else underneath it—something fragile

“What?” You shrugged, feigning indifference, even as you felt heat crawl up your neck.  He tilted his head, looking at you like he was trying to figure out if you were serious. How you couldn’t see it. How you didn’t know the restraint he’d practiced last night for you was something out of this world.

“You’re playing with me,” he murmured, exhaling with a shake of his head like he couldn’t believe you. Your fingers tightened around your mug. You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Because you weren’t playing. You had no idea what the game even was anymore. Trent sighed, running a hand over his face before looking at you again, and this time there was something raw in his expression. “You didn’t move to me all night,” he said, voice lower now, slower. “You said we’re friends.” We are friends. The words sat on the tip of your tongue, but they felt like a lie. A cruel one.

“We are friends,” you whispered anyway, though it sounded weaker than before. The words barely made it past your lips. His eyes darkened, the smirk fading as he took another step closer. 

“We’re friends.” he repeated, voice quieter now, testing, resigned. “So…” One word, and yet it held so much. So—that’s why I didn’t touch you last night. So—that’s why I didn’t say what I wanted to. So—that’s why this is fucking killing me. Your throat felt tight. 

“So… nothing,” you whispered, but it wasn’t nothing, and you both knew it. You turned away under the guise of putting your mug in the sink, looking for anything to ground yourself, to avoid his gaze, to pull yourself out of the mess you’d just created. Needing something, anything, to break the moment. Trent didn’t let you. You heard him move before you felt him—He moved behind you with quiet ease, closing the space between you, his body flush against your back as his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in, his breath warm against your ear. You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming as his warmth enveloped you, his breath fanning against your neck.

–

The air between you crackled, thick with something neither of you wanted to name. Morning light streamed through the sheer curtains, soft and golden, illuminating the space between you. The kitchen smelled of tea and toast, but all you could taste was the heat of Trent’s breath behind your ear, the weight of him standing too close.

“C’mere,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine, a traitorous reaction you tried to ignore. His voice was low, heavy with something dangerous. He didn’t need to say it louder. You felt it everywhere. “You think about fucking me last night?” He whispered.  A sharp inhale caught in your throat. He wasn’t touching you, not really, but his presence was everywhere—his voice curling around your spine, his body heat seeping into you, his scent settling deep in your lungs. Your lips curled before you could stop yourself, a smug smirk tugging at your mouth. He felt it. He knew. “Mmm,” he hummed, and the sound alone sent a shiver down your back. His fingers skimmed your bare hip beneath the hem of your shirt—his shirt. “Yeah? How’d you want to take my cock?” His hips pressed against your ass, slow with an aching deliberateness, and a traitorous heat coiled in your stomach. Your breath hitched. For a second, just a second, you considered giving in. Letting the inevitable happen. But the panic clawed at your ribs, because you couldn’t—this wasn’t—

“T,” you whispered, shaking your head, trying to will away the heat curling low in your stomach. “We’re friends.” It was the wrong thing to say.  It was meant to be light. A tease, maybe? Protection? Surely. Nevertheless, a playful reminder of the line you both refused to cross. But you struck a nerve. Trent jerked back like you’d burned him, running a frustrated hand down his face. His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with something unreadable.  

“Y/N, you’re barely wearing clothes!” He snapped, voice rising ever so slightly. “You’re only in my shirt!” He yelped exacerbated, his frustration filling the space where his warmth had just been.

“Well…” You fumbled, suddenly unsure, suddenly feeling bare in a way that had nothing to do with your lack of clothing.. His head fell back for a second before he exhaled, hands on his hips, eyes trained on the ceiling like he was trying to keep himself from saying something reckless, like he was trying to stay calm, trying not to let whatever was simmering beneath the surface boil over. You could see it in the way his fingers curled tensely, in the way his chest rose and fell too quickly. But when he looked back at you, his restraint was fraying. And then his voice dropped, quieter now, but no less intense.

“Do you want me to be attracted to you or not?” His voice rougher now, raw with something dangerously close to desperation. 

“I–” Your lips parted, but nothing more came out.

“Baby,” he continued, a helpless sort of exasperation in his voice. His eyes shut annoyed at himself that the pet name even came out. “If not, then you gotta sort this.” He gestured to you, to the way you stood there in his shirt, looking at him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. Like he didn’t know the curves of your body hidden beneath the fabric. “And this.” Referring to your face, the one that was too pretty to process. His hand reached out to you, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You gotta sort it out.” He looked at your face and the way you looked at him like you already knew the answer to his question but wouldn’t say it hurt. You bit your lip, heart hammering. You felt dizzy. Unmoored. He exhaled, stepping back as if he needed space, as if being too close to you was suffocating him. And then the words started tumbling out, fast, unchecked, raw.  “I don’t know, maybe plot and plan to blind me because I’m sorry, but at the minute—yes, baby. Right now, I can’t stop thinking about you.” His hands flew into his tight curls, tugging once before he dropped them. “I think about fucking you a lot.” His words were too honest. “I thought about it all last night, I thought about it this morning. I thought about your ass two minutes ago while you strutted around like I’m not supposed to find you attractive.” His voice cracked slightly, frustration leaking through. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. “I’ve got you so deep in my brain I can’t escape you. Your lips, the way you taste——it doesn’t go away, not even when I sleep.”

“T…” you interrupted softly. Your voice was barely above a whisper, your heart pounding. His breathing was uneven now, his eyes locked onto yours like he was trying to find an answer, like he needed you to just tell him what the fuck you wanted from him.

“What, Y/N,” he said, voice sharper than he meant it to be. His voice was rough, like he was tired, like he was pleading. He was trying to put his guards back up to brace for impact but he couldn’t not with the way you looked back at him..

“I’m sorry.” You swallowed hard.  His whole body sagged with the weight of it. And as much Trent wanted to be mad, wanted to be mad, he couldn’t be, not with you. Never with you. His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and then, before you could process it, he reached for you again, pulling you into him with an urgency that made your breath catch. You barely had time to react before your face was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he was trying to hold you together, or maybe keep himself from falling apart. Trent sighed into your hair, his voice nothing more than a breath. The fight melted away the second his arms wrapped around you, crushing you against him, like holding you close might somehow fix all the things neither of you could say. You let yourself sink into him, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his jumper, inhaling him like he was oxygen letting you your eyes flutter close. 

“It’s not fair, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair, gentle, reverent. It wasn’t fair. None of this was. But you held onto him anyway, knowing you were already in too deep to let go. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, gripping onto him like an anchor, like maybe if you held on tightly enough, you could stop this from slipping further into something you couldn’t control. But it was too late. It had been too late for a long time. His lips brushed against the top of your head, lingering. “Too pretty f’me, yeah?” he hummed, the words laced with something so tender it made your chest ache.  You kept your eyes closed, swallowing hard, inhaling the scent of him—the warmth of him, the faint trace of his cologne, the familiarity of everything that made him Trent. You’d gone too far. You both had. And now, standing in the wreckage, neither of you knew how to put the pieces back together.

—

The locker room at St. George’s Park was a mixture of post-training exhaustion and buzzing camaraderie. The scent of sweat, grass, and faint cologne lingered in the air, blending with the sound of boots clattering against the tiled floor and water running in the background. Conversations overlapped, banter flying effortlessly between teammates, but Trent wasn’t really present in any of it. His mind had been elsewhere for days—weeks, really. You. Always you.

No matter how much distance he tried to put between himself and the mess you both had tangled yourselves into, you stayed lodged in his chest, a dull ache that never went away. You were the wound and the cure, the storm and the stillness, and he had no fucking idea how to make sense of it anymore.

“Aye, bro, you know that photographer girl… Forget her name,” Jude called as he walked past, pulling Trent abruptly from his thoughts. Trent frowned instantly, his brows knitting together. A spike of something—possessive, protective—flashed through him. 

“Who?” He asked, thinking of you but assuming Jude couldn’t be asking about you. Not you. Jude barely noticed the tension creeping into Trent’s frame as he pulled a shirt over his head. 

“Erm… used to do footballer fits type shit, think she does big stuff now.” He thoughtlessly spoke. Across the room, another voice chimed in, casual but firm. 

“Y/N L/N.” Jude nodded in agreement, snapping his fingers.

“That’s it.” Trent’s stomach clenched. “Friends with your mates, no?” He looked at Trent. 

“Uh yeah…” Trent tried to keep his voice level, but even the mention of your name made his pulse kick up a notch.

“You think she’d be down to come to LA with us?” Jude continued, oblivious to the war waging inside Trent. “Could be sick, mate.” 

LA. Trent had barely given the trip much thought—just something fun before the season picked up again, a chance to breathe before the grind resumed. But now, it felt like an opportunity. A moment dropped in his lap by fate, offering him a way to maybe—finally—make things right.

“You have an in with her?” Another one of the boys chimed in, grinning. And there it was. The million-pound question. Trent felt his heartbeat against his ribs, too hard, too fast. Sort of. It wasn’t an easy answer. Because what exactly were you to him now? What was he to you? Lovers who never quite said the words? Friends who never really were just friends? His jaw clenched as he exhaled, thoughts running circles around themselves. If he asked, if he reached out—what would you say? Would you take it as a business opportunity? Would you turn him down because the wounds between you were still raw? Would you come because, deep down, you wanted to be near him as much as he wanted to be near you? Trent dragged a hand down his face.

“I can ask her,” he said finally, the words measured, careful. “See what she says.” But in truth, this wasn’t just about a trip. It never was. This was about finding a way back to you.

—

Foster’s bedroom was exactly as it always was—messy in the way that felt intentional, like every scattered hoodie and half-read book was just where it was meant to be.  A lived-in space that felt as familiar as your own. The room smelled of his overpriced perfume and the remnants of whatever candle Delaney had insisted she light for ‘good energy.’ The bed, a tangled mess of blankets and pillows, was the only space of calm amidst the chaos, and it was where you sat, hugging a pillow to your chest as you relayed the absolute car crash that had been your phone call with Trent. Campbell was pacing. She had been since the moment you’d told them Trent asked you to come to LA. Every so often, she’d stop, press her hands to her temples as if the sheer stupidity of the situation might kill her, and then resume her frantic pacing.

“I just don’t know if I go or not?” you sighed, letting yourself fall back onto the bed dramatically. 

“Y/N! You genuinely are dating! You have to go!” Delaney groaned, lying on her back beside you, letting her head hang off the edge of the bed, hair cascading in a tangled mess onto the carpet. 

“We’re not,” you pouted, voice muffled into the pillow.

“You are,” Campbell said flatly, stopping mid-stride to shoot you an incredulous look. Foster, sitting on her desk chair with one leg pulled up to her chest, raised a brow. You and Trent were just hurting when it could be sorted with some honest communication in her opinion.

“Anyone beg to ask the question, why not?” She smirked at the obviousness of it all. You groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” You whined. You didn’t really know. But deep down the truth was—in some way, you did. You knew exactly why. You were scared he didn’t want to date you and he’d hurt you if you tried. So instead, you were living in this middle, sat acting like you were dating, saying you weren’t.  “I don’t know,” you muttered again, quieter this time.  Campbell threw her hands up. You sat up, hugging the pillow tighter, feeling suddenly exposed under their collective gaze. A beat of silence. You stared at the duvet, running your fingers over the soft fabric. Delaney turned her head dramatically to look at you, eyes wide. 

“But you are though!” she whined, shaking your arm like the answer was obvious.

“You’re already acting like you’re dating,” Foster pointed out, voice gentler. “You’re just not calling it what it is.” Campbell rolled her eyes so hard you were almost impressed they didn’t get stuck. 

“Babe. He invited you to LA. LA!  You think he’s doing that just for fun?” Heat bloomed across your cheeks. You groaned, pressing the pillow against your face. You sat still cross-legged in the middle of the bed, surrounded by your best friends, your defenses slowly crumbling under the weight of their relentless teasing.

“It’s not like he even holds my hand or something,” you explained weakly, glancing between the three of them as if you could find some sliver of validation in their eyes. But Foster and Delaney just burst into laughter, and Campbell rolled her eyes again so hard you feared she’d actually lost sight of the ceiling.

“Fine, your hand isn’t his…” Campbell allowed, her smirk telling you she was about to eviscerate whatever excuse you thought you had. “But what does he do when you two walk near each other?” Your stomach flipped. Heat crept up your neck, the mere thought of it unraveling you. A smile threatened to give you away.

“His arm is permanently slinked around you!” Foster yelped, pointing at you like she’d cracked the case.

“You’re attached the second you’re in the same room, hun!” Delaney cooed, leaning forward eagerly. Your cheeks burned. “Oh my God, and you’re chuffed about it as well!” she added, giggling at the way you were visibly fighting a lovesick grin.

“Oh my days, she’s blushing,” Foster gasped loving every second of this.

“No! No!” You swatted at the air, as if you could physically bat away the accusations.

“You have the lock code to his house!” Campbell piled on, eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. You shouldn’t have told her but you did. Trent had given it to you so you could let yourself in when you had gotten to his house before him, another thing friends just didn’t do. There was trust in that and meaning in that trust and Campbell pounced on the simplicity of it. 

“We don’t have sex.” Desperate, you grasped at straws. A half-truth. A singular most recent night you hadn’t. And you only hadn’t because the feelings had gotten too much to bare. A collective silence fell over the room. Then—

“Yes, you DO!!!” Foster screeched, her hands flying up like she was praising the football gods. She was absolutely beside herself with amusement while Campbell fell onto the bed, laughing in utter disbelief.

“Y/N, please, don’t even try that,” Delaney deadpanned, leveling you with a stare. “You two always sneak off, you’ve had sex, you’ve likely had sex with him in the past month, and you’ll have sex with him again.” She looked at you like she’d just stated the sky was blue, and you groaned, pressing your hands over your face. Everyone knew you two were hooking up. Anyone close to you knew you weren’t kissing anyone else. At 3 am Trent’s location was at your apartment, and the next week you turned up with a love bite on your collarbone. A poor lie, your friends went along with. 

“I repeat, you have the fucking lock code to his fucking house!!!” Campbell shrieked, before collapsing into laughter. You peeked through your fingers at them, at the sheer disbelief and delight written all over their faces, and despite yourself, you grinned. Because they were right. You did see it, you always had. You were just too scared to call it what it was.

“Just be together! Go to LA!” Foster cried, exasperated.

“Let the pretty footballer who’s obsessed with you pay for a nice little hol’ to the U.S., have some sex, drink some tequila, go out, and tell him you’re in love with him!!!” Delaney rattled off like it was the simplest plan in the world. You couldn’t fight the smitten smile anymore. The very thought of LA with Trent—sure, his friends too, but him—sent something dangerously close to excitement bubbling in your chest. “You have to go.” Delaney kicked her feet against the bed idly. 

“You have to go,” Campbell echoed, leaning over you like a villain plotting her next move.

“You will go.” Foster smirked. And despite the nerves twisting in your stomach, despite the uncertainty clawing at your ribs—you already knew they were right.

“I don’t know if he—” You tried, one last desperate attempt at playing coy, dropping your face into your hands.

“Y/N…” Campbell warned, her voice a lethal threat.

“Okay, okay!” you giggled, surrendering as you stretched across the bed, grabbing your phone. The room erupted into cheers as you typed out a message to Trent.

You were going to LA.

—

[Coast - Hailee Steinfeld ft. Anderson .Paak]  

LA was a dreamscape—a hazy, honey-dipped mirage of golden light and ocean breeze, where time stretched languidly, kissed by the sun and swayed to the rhythm of something intoxicating. The air itself shimmered, thick with the scent of salt, citrus, and money, rolling over the hills of Beverly like a secret whispered between the palm trees. LA stretched out before you like a fever dream—soft and humming with something electric in the air. The light here wasn’t like anywhere else, diffused through a permanent haze, painting the hills in watercolor shades of amber and rose. The city pulsed beneath it, sprawling and endless, a mirage of winding roads, sky-high palm trees swaying lazily against the breeze, and a kind of slow, indulgent luxury that felt almost unreal.

You were bone-tired, the weight of the eleven-hour flight still clinging to your limbs, but there was no denying the thrill that sparked through you when you stepped into the thick warmth of the balmy California air. It wrapped around you like silk, heavy with the scent of salt and jasmine, expensive perfume lingering from the terminals of LAX. Even through the exhaustion, you felt the rush of being here, of being wanted here—because despite your stubborn refusal to let Trent buy your plane ticket, he had still made sure a driver was waiting for you, your name scrawled neatly on a card like you were something precious. Maybe it was the way the world looked different here, bathed in a warm, cinematic glow. Or maybe it was the fact that, despite your insistence, you were someone worth being taken care of here.

It was easy to roll your eyes at the extravagance, to pretend the little flutter in your stomach didn’t exist. But as the blacked-out SUV wove through the glossy neighborhoods of Beverly Hills, through the perfectly manicured streets where even the trees seemed to stand taller, it became harder to ignore. A labyrinth of luxury, past towering hedges and glimmering pools, until the car turned into a gated driveway. You let out a soft, incredulous huff when the car rolled through it. At the end of the private road, perched on the edge of a cliff like a crown jewel, was the kind of house you only saw in Architectural Digest. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the sky, cutting against the horizon, a view that could swallow the whole of Los Angeles in its embrace. An infinity pool spilling over the edge of a cliff as if the entire city belonged to it. And maybe it did. Maybe it belonged to the people inside, to the boys who had come here with their effortless swagger and easy smiles, to the ones who didn’t think twice about flying private or renting a house that overlooked everything. It wasn’t just big—it was ridiculous. The kind of property that made you momentarily reconsider everything you knew about reality, glass and sleek, modern lines that melted into the cliffside. It wasn’t a house; it was a statement, a testament to their reality, to their success, built to catch every last golden drop of the LA sunset. It made sense, though. You weren’t just visiting him—you were stepping into his world. A world where footballers weren’t just athletes but celebrities, where where they stayed, their homes, even if impermanent, weren’t just houses but pieces of art perched above the city, above the rest of the world. You sighed, tapping out a quick text.

‘Here 😉’

And then immediately regretted the wink. Before you could even overthink it, before you could even wonder if he’d register it, the front door swung open. And then—there he was. Through the tinted window, the front door of the house. Trent. Golden. The kind of golden that made you believe the sun had been put in the sky just for him. It hit him perfectly, gleaming off his skin, casting him in honeyed warmth as he jogged down the grand staircase. Shirtless, his torso was carved in sharp lines, muscles flexing with each movement. His skin already bronzed from the California sun, muscles taut and gleaming with the faintest sheen of sweat catching the light. His shorts hung low on his hips, just enough to be distracting, and his bare feet moved carelessly over the smooth stone as he cut through the garden, cutting through the shrubs like he couldn’t be bothered with the designated path. He was glowing, moving with an effortless kind of beauty, the kind that made your breath catch in your throat. Your heart stumbled over itself. Because his face—the way his perfect, pink lips curled into a slow, toothy grin, all greedy and eager—made your breath hitch in your throat.Your heart stuttered. Because his smile—greedy, eager, so damn pretty—made your knees feel weak. He looked like he’d been waiting for this moment, for you. He looked—happy. Not just in a good mood, not just enjoying the LA sun. Happy to see you.

As he reached the driveway, you saw it in his eyes, dark and molten, reflecting the golden glow, and suddenly your nerves weren’t about the flight or the jet lag or the fact that you were standing in front of the most extravagant house you’d seen in a long while. They were about him. Trent felt it too. He felt the second his heart started pounding a little too fast, the way his pulse kicked up as he neared the SUV. It was ridiculous, really—he’d seen you a hundred times before, touched you, kissed you, known the warmth of your skin. But here, now, stepping out of that car, sunlit and stunning, you felt new. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. 

And then, just like that, there you were. He barely had time to think about it before you emerged from behind the SUV.  His heart slammed against his ribs, his breath caught somewhere between anticipation and relief. He wasn’t sure why he felt nervous now, not when he’d had you so close before, not when he’d known the shape of your laughter, the softness of your touch. But watching you now, stepping out from behind the car with your Rimowas—one for your camera gear, one (and a half) for your outfits—something shifted inside him. And then you looked up, thanking the driver just as Trent’s feet hit the pavement. The LA sun bathed you both in gold. And for a moment, the whole city held its breath.

LA had a way of making everything look touched by magic—draped in gold, softened at the edges, humming with a kind of heat that settled into your bones rather than pressing against your skin. The air smelled like salt and citrus, like pavement warm from the sun, and somewhere in the hills, laughter echoed from another party at another mansion that wasn’t quite as enticing as the one standing before you now. 

"LA looks good on you, T," you cooed, the words slipping out softer than you intended, carried by the warmth of the afternoon air. Trent smirked, all golden skin and lazy confidence, his hair still a little wet from the pool, his body lithe and sun-drenched. He looked at home here, like he belonged against the backdrop of palm trees and rolling hills, like the West Coast had stretched its arms open and said, stay.

"Eh, West Derby, West Hollywood—same thing, no?" he teased, stepping closer, his voice lilting with that boyish charm that made it impossible to look away. And suddenly, the world felt smaller. Quieter. The space between you was dissolving, the air thick with something unspoken, something that hummed beneath your skin like a melody only the two of you could hear.

His hand found the small of your back, sliding into place like it was second nature, like it was something he didn’t even have to think about. And just like that, you were in his arms, melting into his warmth, pressing into the solid planes of his chest as his other hand skimmed over your waist. The embrace was effortless. Familiar. Dangerous.

Your arms curled around his neck, fingertips brushing over the slick heat of his skin, still tacky from suncream. He smelled like salt and citrus, like linen left out in the sun, like something that made your breath hitch in your throat. He smelt too good like the perfect boy; you know that familiar, lived in, but clean, woody musk. Add the salty summer air and suncream and it had your brain melting.

"Hi," you murmured, barely able to find the word in his haze, your lips brushing the curve of his jaw as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He exhaled a quiet laugh, but his fingers tightened at your waist, tugging you even closer. Too close. The way friends didn’t hold each other. The way people who had spent too many nights tangled in sheets did.  His hands unable to stay at the small of your back, dipping to the curve of your ass pulling you into him. 

"Flight alright?" he asked, voice a little lower now, rougher, like your body against his was something he had to feel to believe. You nodded, too caught up in the way he felt—solid, warm, real—to find words right away. Your head was still fogged from jet lag, but God, if this wasn’t the best kind of grounding. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a second, you forgot what air even was. He was so pretty. He was so close. His lips—pink and full, parted slightly—were right there, close enough to kiss, to catch between your teeth if you dared. He smirked like he knew exactly what you were thinking because he was thinking the same thing. “Should’ve come with me, y’know,” he murmured, his thumb grazing the dip of your spine.

"It was fine," you said, voice breathy, almost unconvincing. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to blink, to breathe. "I was fine." Trent tilted his head, gaze flicking over your face like he was looking for the truth. "Cameras made it, though," you added, trying to steer the moment back to reality. "So your holiday will be captured as promised." His eyes softened. The ‘real’ reason you were in LA dragging you both back down to earth.

"Just glad you made it," he murmured, and something about the way he said it made your stomach twist in the best way. Then— “C’mon Irving Penn, show you inside.” He teased, stepping back to grab your bags, and fuck.  It was such a small thing. An old name you’d mumbled once—months ago—when you were tangled up in a hotel bed, sleep-drunk and soft, talking about art and love and the way you saw the world through a lens. You’d said the name when he’d asked who your favorite photographer was. And yet he remembered. It had you melting, and it wasn’t from the California sun. It was him.  Your chest tightened as you watched him lift your suitcases like they weighed nothing, the veins in his arms shifting beneath his golden skin, his shoulders flexing effortlessly. You just looked at him somewhere caught between a smile and a pout because he was perfect.  "Introduce you to the lads," he said, flashing you a grin. "Think you already know a few." You swallowed, trying to focus on the house—the staggering Beverly Hills villa you were about to walk into—but all you could really focus on was him.

“Okay, I can get the other,” you offered, reaching instinctively for one of the pieces of luggage he’d already grabbed easily.

“Nah, nah. All good, baby,” he said smoothly, his voice dipping into something that made warmth curl at the base of your spine. He shot you a wink over his shoulder. “You just bring that pretty face inside, and we’re square—deal?” Your lips parted, a half-formed protest dying in your throat as you watched him climb the steps, back muscles shifting beneath the fading sunlight, the California sun draping him like something cinematic. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? You exhaled, pressing your fingers to your lips, a stupid smile curling against your palm. This was going to be dangerous. And yet, as you adjusted your Goyard on your shoulder and followed him inside, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Godspeed.

-

The house hummed with lazy conversation, the occasional splash of water echoing from outside, laughter rolling through the open doors like the warm California breeze. You could hear them out there, all the boys, relaxed in the glow of late afternoon, sunk into loungers, passing around drinks, voices laced with the careless ease of a summer afternoon and a holiday they didn’t know the price of. But your mind was somewhere else. The air in your room was thick with heat, the kind that clung to your skin, lazy, wrapping around you like silk. Outside, the sun rose higher, painting the sky in a solid blue that even pantone could never replicate, the scent of chlorine and citrus wafting in through the open balcony doors. But you weren’t thinking about them. Not really.

You slid your bikini bottoms up your legs, the fabric snug against your skin, ass on full display even with them on. You didn’t reach for the smallest set you’d packed—no, that would be too obvious. But this? This was a game of subtlety. You stood in front of the dresser, the warm glow of the sun casting you in honeyed light. The bikini was just enough to keep things low key, to leave something to the imagination. And yet, even that didn’t feel like enough. Your fingers ghosted over the glass bottle of Soleil Blanc on the dresser, and instinctively, you reached for it.

Body oil. Warm, glistening, promising to sink into your skin like liquid sunlight. You tipped the bottle, letting the oil spill into your palm before smoothing it over your leg, one foot propped up on the dresser as you worked it in with slow, deliberate strokes. The slick sheen caught the light, accentuating the soft curve of your thigh, the toned muscle beneath. Golden, shimmering, warm to the touch. It wasn’t just about moisturizing. Not really. It wasn’t even about looking good. This was deliberate. This was for him. You wondered if he’d notice. If his eyes would betray him the second you stepped outside. If he’d shift in his seat, his fingers curling just slightly, jaw tightening as he tried to focus on the conversation around him but failed. More than that, you wondered what his friends knew. Had he talked about you? Did they suspect something? Did his friends know who you were? Were you anything? Would they notice the way his gaze lingered when you came out?

You wondered—no, hoped—that he’d see you that way. That he’d have to fight to keep his cool, his mouth going dry at the sight of you glistening under the sun. You moved slowly, tracing the curve of your hip, the slope of your stomach, watching the way the oil melted into your skin like liquid gold. The warm and spicy scent filling the air around you. The door to your bedroom was cracked ever so slightly—just an afterthought, really. You didn’t think much of it, they were all outside. You thought… not until you caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror. Your breath caught as your gaze snapped to the reflection—straight through the half-cracked door, to where he stood.  Trent. 

Your eyes met his reflecting back at you, his flashing with innocent surprise, his figure caught in the dim light of the hallway.  He wasn’t supposed to be there. Not yet. And yet—there he was, standing still, lips parted, pupils blown. He’d simply come to let you know he was gonna head outside. He wanted to make sure you’d settled in, not to crowd your space but for you to feel at ease. He didn’t know if you wanted to take a nap after your flight, if you had work to do or what but he felt the need to check in and check in he did.  Frozen in the doorway, broad shoulders tense, lips parted slightly, as if he’d been about to say something but forgot how to speak entirely. His gaze was locked onto you, dark and heavy, filled with something thick and unreadable, his chest rising and falling just a little faster than before. He didn’t move. Didn’t shut the door. Didn’t look away. And fuck, that did something to you.

You should’ve been embarrassed. You were only in your bikini bottoms still. You should’ve scrambled to grab a towel, a shirt, something, stammered out an explanation, anything. But you didn’t. Instead, a smirk curled at your lips, slow and unashamed, your fingers still continuing to glide lazily over your skin. Your touch was featherlight, teasing, barely there. And it was all for him. You let your hands travel higher, up the curve of your hip, to the dip of your waist, over your ribs, until you were cupping your boobs in your hands, kneading softly, watching yourself and his reaction in the mirror as the oil melted into your skin. The contact sent a ripple of pleasure through you, your jaw slackening, chest rising and falling with the weight of your own touch. You watched him watch you. The way his jaw twitched. The way his hands curled into loose fists at his sides. The way his tongue flicked out, wetting his lips like he was fighting the urge to devour you. There was something intoxicating about it, about the way your body gleamed under the soft light, about the way your breath hitched when your palms slid over the swell of your tits and your hardening nipples, caressing, squeezing, teasing yourself just because you could. A breath hitched in your throat, head tilting back, lips parting slightly at the sensation. You let yourself feel it, let yourself show him how good it felt, how much you liked teasing him like this.

And Trent? He just stood there. Watching. Staring. Looking at you like he wanted to ruin you. And you welcomed it. You didn't stop him. He knew you knew he was there, and you did. You were purposefully and silently putting on a show and you wanted to see what he’d do about it. But you should’ve known. 

It happened fast, but it felt like slow motion as he moved. The door to your room pushed open, and then slammed shut behind him with a thud. The air between you thickened as the lock clicked into place. Your stomach flipped, anticipation curling low in your belly as he turned back to you, eyes full of something molten, something starved. And then— He took a step closer. And you knew exactly what was about to happen and maybe subconsciously prayed would.  Trent’s eyes were dark, burning with an intensity that sent a thrill through your spine. He didn’t rush—no, he took his time, stalking forward like he had all the patience in the world, even though the tension between you both begged to snap. The heat of him came first, radiating against your back like the Californian sun had sunk beneath his skin, branding you before he even touched you. Then, his hands—bigger than you remembered, greedier than you could brace for—slipped around your waist, slick palms gliding over the oil-drenched curve of your waist, thumbs grazing just beneath your ribs. His fingers flexed, pressing deep. like he needed to feel every inch of you, needed proof that you were real and here and his. His touch reverent, memorizing your body as if a map, remembering the curves of you with his hands. He let out a slow breath, and you felt it against your shoulder as he leaned in, pressing his chest flush to your back. Trent only in his swim trunks, you only in a skimpy bikini bottom and oil. He was trying to steady himself, but there was no restraint in the way he pulled you against him, chest molding to your back, hips flush, a quiet, desperate possession. Your breath hitched as he spread his hands, a starved man reacquainting himself with something he could never get enough of. His touch worshipful. And in the mirror, you watched the way you unraveled for him—how easily, how helplessly, how it was never a choice at all. 

“Think LA looks fucking unreal on you, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing just beneath your ear, voice dripping with something that sounded almost like awe. His palms smoothed over your stomach, fingertips teasing the edge of your bikini bottoms before gliding back up, over your ribs, pressing into the weight of you. You whined softly at the contact, pressing into him instinctively, head lolling against his shoulder. His mouth found the sensitive skin along your jaw, open-mouthed kisses leaving heat in their wake, slow and indulgent, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you. “Didn’t even give me a couple hours... Playing me like this out the gate.” He rasped against your skin, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping tighter.

“Not playing.” You whined as his grip flexed, pulling you closer against him. 

“Nah, shhh, I know exactly what game your playing. You wanted me to see you like this, hmm?” Your eyes fluttered open, catching sight of your reflection in the mirror, the sight of his hands on you, the way he held you, possessed you. 

“I–” You gasped. You would’ve explained that you didn’t mean it but maybe in your subconscious you had. The moment was feverish, something like love seeping too close to the surface, settling between each whisper, each shared breath.

“Gonna tease me this whole trip or you gonna let me have you?” His lips ghosted over your shoulder, his touch growing more insistent, and you knew—this was never just about teasing. This was him unraveling, giving in, letting himself need you the way he always had. And you? 

“You can have me.” You melted, whimpering, giving yourself over to him, knowing that no matter how complicated things were outside of this moment, here, like this—he was yours.

—

The air was thick—humid from the California heat, but heavier from him. From the way Trent’s breath fanned over your skin, the way his touch turned reverence into ruin. He was everywhere, his big hands roaming, greedy as they smoothed over the shimmer of oil that slicked your body, palms mapping your curves like he’d been starved of you. Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment to devour you and yet he’d stumbled into it. His lips chased the path his hands left behind—ghosting over the slope of your shoulder, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of you. Every inch of you felt worshipped, like he was rediscovering the body he already knew by heart. And when he reached your ear, voice rich, rasping, laced with something dark and sweet, you knew you were lost.

“You gonna be a good girl for me in LA?”  The way he said it—low, teasing, but drenched in hunger—had something in your chest snapping like a live wire. You met his gaze in the mirror, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you, waiting for your reaction. That look alone could’ve undone you. The cheek behind it, the quiet command, the unbearable heat rolling off of him. You barely realized you were already pressing back against him, your body answering before your mind could. 

“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the plea, surrendering to the gravity of him. Bottoms discarded like an easy afterthought. Trent groaned lowly  at the way you arched so beautifully for him, the way your breath hitched the second he pressed his cock against your aching core. He dragged his length through your slickness, teasing, taunting, but you could feel the way his control frayed at the edges. And when he finally pushed inside, when he slowly filled you, inch by inch, stretching out carefully in a way that even in the dirtiest of moments, he was gentle with you. When his length finally filled you to the hilt, he pulled back out slow. And then in one slow, devastating stroke, he thrusted back in and you swore you saw stars. A deep, guttural moan escaped him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass like he was trying to ground himself. He railed into you relentlessly before he pulled you back up right, your back to his chest. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder for a second, breath shuddering. “Alright, baby?” He asked earnestly, but strained in pleasure. You nodded with a desperate whine because even with the stretch, it was pleasure words couldn’t even describe. “So perfect. Always so fucking perfect.” He pulled back just enough to look at you in the mirror, watching the way your lips parted on a silent cry as he rocked into you again, dragging against every place that had you unraveling. And then again, deeper, rougher, until you were clenching around him, until your moans were slipping out uninhibited. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to let this happen. At least not this soon. But Trent was an unstoppable force, and you were the immovable object that always seemed to bend for him. Always. Willingly. Pleadingly.  He fucked you slow, deep, like he wanted to make you feel every inch of him. Like he wanted to brand himself into you. Your hands gripped the dresser, your reflection hazy with pleasure, and still—still—his hands never stopped touching you. Sliding up your ribs, cupping your tits, pinching your sensitive nipples, brushing down to circle your swollen clit with lazy precision.

“T,” you gasped, head falling back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with need, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. His thrusts stuttered slightly, his hold on you tightening. “I’ve got you.”  You didn’t know if he meant now or always. If this was just another stolen moment or if it was something more. But in that instant, with his lips at your jaw, his body flush against yours, and the feeling of him sinking deeper into you—it didn’t matter. Because nothing had ever felt more right than him. And nothing had ever made you feel more his. Minute after minute, your bodies spoke a language only the two of you could understand—love bleeding into every desperate thrust, every trembling gasp, every whispered name swallowed by the humid air. It was slow and deep, an unspoken confession etched into the way his hands gripped you like he’d never let go, the way your nails sank into his skin like you needed him closer, closer still. The tension coiled tighter, a fever spreading between you, until there was nowhere left to go but over the edge. Your release hit like a tidal wave, sweeping you under, leaving you weightless and wrecked as you clenched around him, as your body gave in completely. The moment your walls fluttered around him, his grip turned bruising, his hips stuttering as a guttural groan tore from his throat, spilling himself deep inside you, pulsing, claiming, coming undone right with you. Neither of you moved. Heavy breaths tangled in the thick, heat-drenched air, skin damp and sticking where your bodies met, heartbeats hammering in sync. He slumped against your back for a moment, arms caging you in like he never wanted to let you slip away. Then, with what little strength he had left he wrapped himself around you like a secret. You melted into him, head lolling back, eyes fluttering closed as your body pulsed in the afterglow. For now, there were no questions. No complications. No blurred lines to decipher. Just this. Just the remnants of him inside you, the way his lips brushed your temple, the way his hold never wavered. You could barely breathe. But you had never felt more alive.

“You okay, baby?” His voice was a whisper against your skin, a hushed breath of warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. His head rested against your shoulder, his body still flush against yours, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm that matched the aftershocks pulsing through you.

“Yeah…” You swallowed thickly, your breath still unsteady as you nodded, a lazy, blissful smile spreading across your lips. Trent hummed against your neck, the sound low and satisfied, but he must’ve felt the way your body still trembled slightly against his. His arms wrapped a little tighter around your waist, hands smoothing over your warm, sweat-slicked skin paired with that amber and sandalwood oil, like he wanted to keep you grounded, like he wanted to sink into you the way that Tom Ford had, like he wanted to keep you his.  “Fuck,” you exhaled softly, almost to yourself, still caught in the waves of pleasure.

“That didn’t take very long.” He laughed, a deep, husky sound that rumbled against your back, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You giggled, turning in his embrace, your chest pressed against his. His warmth, the steadiness of him, made you feel like you were melting right into him.

“I dunno…” you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Think it was longer than I expected, given how desperate you were.” Trent scoffed, grinning as he cupped your chin, tilting your face up to his. His gaze was heavy-lidded, dark with something soft but consuming, something that made your breath hitch.

“Eh, longer than I thought I’d last once I saw you,” he murmured, his smirk laced with something deeper, something almost too real. Because even before you landed in LA, even before you set foot in this house, you had been lingering in his thoughts, haunting him in ways he didn’t even try to fight anymore. 

“Not very professional of me…” You bit your lip, suddenly bashful, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. He grinned, his arms encircling you, his hands trailing idly up and down your spine. 

“Eh, you had a favorite model ahead of coming to this shoot anyway. Hate to think you were coming into it impartial.” You pulled back, brows raising as you scoffed. 

“Oh, so you’re a model now?” You teased. Trent’s grin deepened, eyes twinkling as he ran his hands down your sides, gripping your waist. 

“Mmm… what? Think I don’t have the face for it? Or is it the body you think is so sexy?” He goaded. You rolled your eyes, playfully trailing your fingers up his toned stomach before looping your arms around his shoulders. 

“I think it’s the ego behind that pretty face.” You smiled softly, completely smitten with him, ego and all.

“Wow… alright, treat them like you treat me then.” He smirked, only for his expression to shift when he caught the cheeky glint in your eyes, suddenly realizing what he just said. “Nah, nah, hold on,” he chuckled, shaking his head. But then his hands were on you again, tracing your curves with a slow, deliberate touch, like he was reminding himself—and you—who you belonged to in this space, in this moment. “They don’t get what I get, alright? When you’re like this…” His fingers traced the swell of your hips, his gaze drinking you in like a man trying to commit a masterpiece to memory. “That’s just for me.” You swallowed, your stomach flipping, heat licking at your ribs. The way he looked at you made your knees weak, made you feel precious, made you feel his in a way that had nothing to do with possession and everything to do with reverence. “For work, yeah. You be professional, like I know you always are,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing slow circles into your skin. “But you take that hat off with me…” He paused with a cheeky grin forming. “Maybe those clothes too, alright?”  You nodded, exhaling shakily. 

“Only for you.” You smirked, stepping out of his arms to grab your bikini. “Keep it hush, yeah? Don’t want anyone to know I have favorites.” You giggled. 

“Ah, see! I am your favorite.”  Trent chuckled, shaking his head, victoriously. You turned slightly, slipping the tiny material of your bikini back over your hips, then the top. 

“You know you’re my favorite.” The confession came out quietly, without hesitation, and the truth of it settled between you like something tangible. Trent’s expression softened, but his gaze darkened as he watched you, the golden sheen of oil catching the light, your body still glowing with the aftermath of him.

“Baby, you look beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself. You hummed, shaking your head as you adjusted your bikini top, ignoring the way his stare lingered, full of quiet hunger. “Nah, I’m serious.” His voice was low, thick. “So sexy.” His tongue darted out, running over his bottom lip as his eyes trailed down the length of you. “Not sure I’ll survive outside seeing you like this, but…” He paused, distracted by the way your fingers skimmed over your skin.

“But?” You raised a brow, waiting. Trent exhaled, laughing softly. 

“I’ll try my best.” You giggled, rolling your eyes as he pressed one last lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’m gonna head outside, you know—keep it professional.” His hands caressed your arms, his touch reluctant to leave you. “You good?” You nodded, biting your lip as you watched him move toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes dark with mischief. “Don’t tease me too much, baby.” Then, with a wink, he was gone, leaving you breathless, dazed, and already craving him again.

•

Thank you for reading! Welcome to my new fic 'Aperture' I really hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to what's ahead!

PLEASE PLEASE Please like, comment, or message what you think!!!

Next part - Chapter 14 - Golden Opportunity

📷 🪩 💄 🤍 🎞️ 🎱🍸 💷

[flippinpancakes64]

How the Cullens would react to you being a newborn

*Note* This is my first ever post please be nice :(

Edward:

Super supportive

Is so so patient

Will teach you everything he knows about self control and how to best curb your hunger

Will go hunting with you every day if that's what you want

He doesn't care if you're dangerous he wants a hug so he's getting a hug

Protective x100

If Jasper still has trouble trusting you after you've mostly gotten yourself under control he will be right there telling him to back off

10/10 would let him turn me into a newborn

Alice:

Again, supportive x100

She deals with Jasper on the daily, she knows how to help with cravings and sporadic behavior

Can easily stop you from things you shouldn't do because she can see them in the future

Would go hunting with you

Would lose her patience after a while if you keep tearing the clothes she buys you tho

(Not actually she'd just be a little frustrated :) )

Would also come to your defense if Jasper or anyone else doubts that you have yourself under control

"I can literally see the future it's fine-"

Jasper:

The worst of them all probably-

He's very tough to get to in the first place

He has a dark past, most of his trauma is from Newborns

He doesn't trust you for a really long time

Super skeptical, will follow your every move ready to hold you down

He's just trying to protect his family tho

You're gonna have to be on your best behavior if you ever want him to trust you again

He'll come around eventually though with the help of his family to show him that you're adjusting well

After he's certain you're no longer a threat he will feel so bad

Cuddles x100

He's just a big softie who loves his family behind those scary eyes

Rosalie:

Ok I lied she might be the worst actually-

If you did this to yourself or had another one of the Cullens turn you chances are she's never gonna talk to you again (sorry)

I mean we all know that she hated Bella's guts until she got pregnant with Renesmee

But if you got turned by accident or by a rogue vampire attack?

Supportive x200

Mama Bear mode activated fr

She remembers what it was like all too well

The pain, the confusion, the anger, the hatred

You couldn't do a single thing wrong in her eyes

You accidentally attacked a hiker? It happens to the best of us

You broke one of the super expensive cars by closing the door too hard? It's ok Carlisle can buy a new one

Can and will defend you if anyone says you're not ready yet

Emmett:

Kinda chill tbh

Obviously since he's the strongest he's with you most of the time to hold you back if need-be

But he's more interested in making bets against anyone who will bet with him

"I smell an elk up ahead, I bet I'll get to it before they can"

"I bet I'll win in an arm wrestling contest"

"I bet they'll scream at Edward for playing that piano too loud"

Mostly is just a good supporter

He's really observant though and is a good judge on if you're ready to be alone yet or not

Esme:

Supportive x100

She hates seeing anyone in pain and you are no exception

Will give you all the tips and tricks she can think of

How to control your cravings, the best animals to hunt, the best places to go to just scream and let it all out

She's got you covered

Wouldn't be that strong of an advocate towards you being ready tho-

She acknowledges that she is not very well versed in this field and will accept Carlisle's or Jasper's judgements very seriously

She will do her best to help you though

Carlisle:

The man for the job fr

He has raised four different newborns that he created mostly all by himself

He knows exactly what to do

How to best help you, how to make sure you feel the least pain possible, how to speed up your process

Literally anything

He's very open to answer any questions you have

If you were dying and he did this to save you he'd be perfectly okay with you wanting nothing to do with him

He understands

It will take a while to fully convince him that you are in control of your urges, but one he's convinced he is on your side 100%

Vampire! Bella:

Definitely the most sympathetic

She was the most recent change, she remembers it the most

Even though she did have her self-control on her side, she still remembers how difficult it was

Will stand by your side no matter what

She's not scared of you or what you could do

To her you're still you

Will do her best to help you with anything you need

Does her best to help give you distractions if there are people nearby

Once she believes you're ready, she will not take no for an answer

She's stubborn

Very good support tho 10/10

[retrosabers]

𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓.

logan howlett x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i’m still in the process of familiarizing myself with logan, so pardon any in-discrepancies/things that may feel out of character. & to anyone who left a request in in my inbox, know that i am actively working on it :)

18+ BELOW THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

logan is a caring and considerate lover. he knows that sometimes he can really wear you out, so he’s always sure to get whatever you need when all is said and done. whether that be a warm wash cloth, a glass of water, or even a snack. he always checks in with his girl to make sure she’s doing okay. at first when things are fairly casual, he might not be as thoughtful. but the more and more he realizes how deep his feelings are for you, the more invested in aftercare he is.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their’s and also their partner’s)

it’s hard for him to pick one thing he loves more than the rest of you. that man is genuinely infatuated with every single part of your body and he makes sure you know it. if he had to pick though, he would say your mouth for a multitude of reasons. he loves seeing you smile. lowkey gets a little turned on whenever you bite back at him or anyone else with your words (secretly enjoys when you’re bossy). feels like he gets sent to heaven every time you wrap your lips around his cock. there’s so much you can do with your mouth, and he loves all of it.

on himself? that’s a bit of a challenge. logan doesn’t really fuss over his physical appearance, but he does notice how often you stare at his biceps. it makes him extra cocky when he intentionally flexes them and makes you blush. aside from being visually appealing, those big strong arms are your safe space, and logan realizes that very quickly. couple those things together and logan’s got a newfound appreciation for those muscles.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

if he can, he’s definitely cumming inside you. call it a breeding kink or a branch of his possessive nature, but logan gets off on knowing he’s the only one who can fill you up. he goes especially crazy when he sees his cum dripping out of you, quick to shove it back in with his fingers so you take every last drop. if it’s a particularly nasty evening, he enjoys cumming down your throat, making you show him his load in your mouth before you swallow.

bonus: he loves when his face is coated with your release after he’s been eating you out. logan can’t get enough of when your scent lingers on his beard; it makes him go a little wild.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

wants you to take control one night. he would never fully sub out, but the thought of you being the one calling the shots makes him unbelievably hard. part of what attracted him to you was your feisty side, and logan always revels in how he’s the only one capable of fucking it out of you, reducing you to nothing but a boneless, moaning mess. so, he wants to try the opposite; to see your spunk translate in the bedroom.

logan also likes getting his hair pulled. a tug of his cowlicks will absolutely expedite his orgasm and he’s not the tiniest bit embarrassed by it. if anything, he enjoys knowing that you have something you can use to get him off faster.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

this man has been around for 200 years and he looks like that. trust that he’s been around and knows exactly how to please a woman. logan’s done damn near everything; it’s just a matter of him trying to figure out what gets you going.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

logan truly doesn’t have a favorite position. he’s happy to take you any way he can get. it all depends on how the night plays out. if he’s feeling a little more sensual & intimate, he loves good old missionary & being able to see your face when you reach your peak. if he’s had a bit of a shit day and maybe you were fighting, he’s roughly taking you from behind, reveling in the way your ass ripples when his hips slap against it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous, etc.)

not really. logan’s not opposed to cracking a joke if there’s a little mishap, but he normally take whatever time he gets alone with you very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

we’ve seen the chest hair and the glorious happy trail. the man is indeed hairy, and he makes a decent effort to keep himself well groomed below the belt. (aka the carpets definitely match the drapes)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

no matter the kind of sex you’re having, logan views it for what it is; a deeply personal experience that only the two of you get to have. he loves keeping eye contact, pulling you as flush to his body as possible so he can feel your heart beat against his own. there’s even been an occasion or two where he’ll intertwine a hand above your head, whispering how much he loves you as you both approach your climax.

J = Jack off (masturbarion headcanon)

logan doesn’t normally masturbate if you’re within reach. he’d much rather bury himself balls deep in your pussy than rub one out with his hand. but, if he’s on a mission, or vice versa and he’s missing you, he makes do.

bonus: before you two started seeing each other and he was in the crushing stage, he used to jack off like crazy, fantasizing about all the things he wanted to do to you. he almost felt like a creep with how much he was doing it. but he didn’t know what else to do, far too afraid to actually act on his feelings until one day he decided his hand wasn’t cutting it anymore. he wanted the real thing. and it turns out, you were in the exact same position.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

two words. size kink. seeing how much bigger he is than you unlocks this side of him that he can’t explain. any display of size difference makes his brain short circuit, whether it be your hand sizes, height, etc. the comparison between his cock and your weeping cunt make his pupils blow wide with lust; his gaze locked on the area where he pistons in and out of you, in awe of just how well you take all of him.

i also sense a praise kink buried under all that muscle. you whine in his ear about how good he’s making you feel and suddenly his thrusts get messy and he’s blowing his load. there’s this part of him that needs to know that he’s taking care of you right. logan’s spent nearly all of his existence never feeling like he could be good enough for anyone, so hearing that he’s succeeding at the only thing he truly cares about, is enough to send him over the edge.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

though the bedroom is always his first choice for obvious reasons, logan is game to do it pretty much anywhere. he could care less about getting caught, leading you to having sex in some rather interesting places. one time you guys fucked on the jet after a rough mission and logan’s strong grip nearly broke one of the seats. after that, you realized it was better to keep your sex-related destruction to broken headboards and tattered sheets.

bonus: he really wants to fuck you on his motorcycle. he’s not sure of the logistics, but he’s been dying to make it happen.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

somehow logan finds a way to be aroused by anything that you do. and i mean anything. there’s a select few things in particular that drive him crazy though. as i mentioned before, he thinks it’s sexy when you tell someone off, especially if it’s scott. he gets worked up watching you train, putting all your energy into smacking that punching bag when you could be getting a much better workout upstairs in his room. there’s a pair of jeans that hug your ass so snugly, that you know have a profound effect on your boyfriend. logan can’t help but follow you around the mansion like a puppy when you wear them, just so he can get a moment alone and bend you over the nearest surface.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he absolutely refuses to harm you. he has no problem with getting rough; gripping you tight, pinning your hands above your head, even a light nibble against your skin. but logan 100% will not choke you, slap you, or degrade you. the only way the claws are coming out is if you’ve had many long conversations about it. otherwise, they’re staying in as long as he can help it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

equally enjoys giving and receiving. logan’s a sucker for a good end of day blowjob as a stress reliever. he’ll never, ever object when he sees you sink to your knees, “just because you want to”. likewise, he can’t think of any better way to spend his time than with his head between your legs. this man is a pussy eating king, and can give you two, sometimes even three orgasms just from his tongue. when he asks if you can sit on his face, you look at him like he’s got two heads.

“logan, i’ll suffocate you.”

“then i can’t think of a better way to die darlin’. now get up here.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it all depends. he touches both ends of the spectrum; it’s just all based around the day’s events and how he’s feeling. logan is a very passionate lover, so he puts all his energy into you, whether it’s slow, languid thrusts or a fast and bruising piston of his hips with your legs thrown over his shoulders.

Q = Quickie (opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

hot take: i don’t think logan is very fond of quickies. he much prefers being able to take his time and not feel rushed. now that’s not to say you don’t indulge in quickies every now and then; sometimes the desire burns too strong and you need to have each other right then and there, even if you only have ten minutes. but logan is a firm believer in foreplay, and 99% of the time quickies don’t leave any room for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks, etc.)

logan is game to try anything that doesn’t involve putting you in danger or causing you legitimate harm. he’s always down to try out a new position or indulge in one of your kinks. anything that can be done to spice up your (already spicy) sex life, he’s totally willing. though, there isn’t much that he hasn’t done already, having been around the bend for a long time. he knows what works and what doesn’t, and sometimes he’ll be the one to suggest something you haven’t done before.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

this man can go. all. night. long. with his mutation, it takes a lot to tucker him out. there’s been nights where you’ve gotten up to round four, and logan probably could’ve kept going if you weren’t so burnt out. he knows you can’t push the envelope like he can, so he often takes the hints from your body to stop, even if your mouth is saying otherwise. (conscious king)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

not the biggest fan of toys. i can definitely see him using one on you for some overstimulation maybe, but he believes he can do a way better job of pleasing you then some battery operated thing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

tease is this man’s middle name. logan loves seeing you get hot under the collar, and he knows exactly how to do it. whispering complete and utter filth in your ear in a crowded room, paired with a few rather taunting touches (a hand that lingers too close to your ass or a thumb rubbing at your bottom lip). sauntering around the training room and your living quarters shirtless like a slut. just doing things he knows get you going, simply because he can. especially when it leads to the same thing every time; you naked in his bed.

he cannot handle when the roles are reversed. just like he knows how to push your buttons, you know exactly where to push his. and if there’s one thing logan doesn’t have, it’s self control. so when you start teasing? just know you’re playing a dangerous game you’re likely not going to win.

V = Volume (how loud are they, etc.)

definitely a loud groaner, but doesn’t really make a ton of noise outside of grunting and groaning. logan never shies away from being vocal when it comes to dirty talk though. he’s just too fucking good at it, knowing exactly what to say to make you preen.

“atta girl, look at you. taking me so well.”

“come on baby, put that pretty mouth on me.”

“you like that huh? that’s my good fucking girl.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

logan would never share; threesomes are off the table. but he’s is nothing if not cocky, and having someone else watch while he fucks your brains out, just seems…enticing. that’s kind of why he’s so shameless about where he fucks you, because there’s a secret part of him that wants to get caught so he can show off just how good he treats his girl.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under the clothes)

i think we can all collectively agree that man is BIG. the biggest you’ve ever had, and probably the biggest you ever will have. no one can compare to his impressive length, and he knows it.

(i refuse to elaborate because i gotta be honest chat, i cannot go into detail about a man’s penis i just can’t)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

that man is ready to go 24/7; his sex drive is high. significantly higher than the average person that’s for sure. logan says it’s because you’re “insatiable” but you both know it’s just another side effect of his mutation (one that he accepts with open arms.)

Z = Zzzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

considering logan’s sleep issues, i don’t see him conking out quickly after you’ve done the deed. i do however, see him being much more relaxed and at peace. his nightmares are unpredictable, but logan always finds that after spending the night with you, they’re not as intense. he can eventually drift off into slumber with a little less anxiety, and his whole world in his arms.

thanks for reading!

p.s. sfw version coming soon <3

[enhaflixer]

hi flix!! me again, whilst reading strikes out i was very curious about the trip to europe and how jake moved in

if u have time, i’d love to know how they worked it out!! 🤍

HI VIENNNAAAAAAAA!

A European Summer & Moving Back| A “Strikes Out” Bonus Scene

The night before Jake left for Europe again, he sat with Jade in her room, his back against her tiny bed frame, while she carefully sorted through her stuffed animals.

She hadn’t spoken much about it—about the fact that he was leaving. Not permanently, not forever, but for long enough.

Jake knew it was sitting heavy on her little heart.

Jade had always been the kind of kid who felt things fully—her joy, her excitement, her sadness. She never did anything halfway, and Jake recognized that part of himself in her so clearly.

So he waited, giving her time, watching as she hugged one of her plush toys closer to her chest.

Finally, she spoke.

“So… you’re gonna be far away again,” she murmured.

Jake exhaled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, baby,” he said softly. “For a little while.”

Jade bit her lip. “But you just got here.”

His chest ached.

“I know,” he whispered, because what else could he say? “And I wish I didn’t have to go. But this is the last stretch, okay? The last part of the season. Just a few more months.”

Jade was quiet for a long moment before tilting her head up at him. “And then me and Mommy are coming, right?”

Jake’s throat tightened.

“You promise, Daddy?” she asked, her little fingers tightening around his sleeve.

Jake cupped her tiny face, holding her gaze. “I promise.”

Jade studied him carefully, and for a second, she looked so much like you—the same stubborn determination, the same flicker of uncertainty that only softened when she trusted something.

Then, finally, her shoulders relaxed.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “But I wanna sit next to the window on the plane.”

Jake laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “You got it, baby girl.”

-

When the plane touched down in Milan, the weight of the past few months finally lifted.

You barely had a chance to process the sights, the massive windows showcasing the rolling Italian landscape, before Jade nearly vibrated out of her seat with excitement.

“We’re in Italy,” she whispered, as if she didn’t quite believe it. Then she turned to you with wild eyes. “MOMMY WE’RE IN ITALY!”

You laughed, smoothing down her hair before unbuckling her seatbelt. “We are, baby.”

Her grin stretched impossibly wide, and the moment the plane doors opened, she practically dragged you down the aislein anticipation.

But nothing—nothing—compared to the moment she spotted Jake waiting past the arrival gates.

There he was, standing tall in a hoodie and joggers, cap pulled low, but it didn’t matter. Jade spotted him instantly—and before you could even brace yourself, she let out a shriek of joy and sprinted full speed across the terminal.

Jake’s face lit up like the damn sun the second he saw her.

She collided into his arms, and Jake caught her with ease, lifting her effortlessly into a tight embrace.

“DAD YOU’RE REAL!” she gasped, cupping his face between her tiny hands. “You’re not on a screen anymore!”

Jake laughed, pressing kiss after kiss to her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “Nope,” he murmured, voice warm and full. “I’m right here.”

Then his gaze lifted—found yours.

And suddenly, it was just the two of you.

You barely had a second to process before Jake closed the distance, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. His lips found yours, soft but insistent, like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

“You’re here,” he murmured against your lips.

You smiled, fingers curling into his hoodie, breathing him in.

“We’re here.”

-

Milan had been a dream.

A sun-drenched, gelato-filled, we’re-finally-together dream.

The days stretched long and golden, filled with Jade running through cobblestone streets, her little voice carrying over the hum of the city. Every morning, she dragged Jake out of bed, demanding they play soccer in the courtyard before breakfast. Afternoons were spent exploring, ducking into cafes, laughing in the middle of busy piazzas, sitting by the Duomo as she marveled at the world around her.

It was easy to pretend that this was forever.

That this was how it would always be—Jade nestled against Jake’s side after dinner, her head tucked beneath his chin as she sleepily fought against bedtime. The three of you curled up on the couch, watching Italian cartoons she barely understood. Jake pressing lazy, lingering kisses to your temple, your shoulder, your cheek, as if he was still making sure you were real.

But you knew.

Even as the summer melted into August, even as Jade began calling the apartment “our house”, even as Jake pulled you into his arms every night like he was afraid you’d disappear in your sleep—

You knew.

Milan wasn’t forever.

Jake knew it too.

You could tell by the way his jaw tensed slightly whenever someone mentioned the season starting soon. By the way he lingered just a little too long when he tucked Jade into bed, kissed you just a little too desperately when you were alone.

So one night, you found him sitting out on the balcony, the city lights flickering below him, his fingers curled loosely around a glass of water.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the way his shoulders shifted, his brows furrowed ever so slightly, like he was already lost in his thoughts.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” you murmured.

Jake exhaled a quiet laugh, glancing over his shoulder. “Can’t help it.”

You walked forward, settling next to him, letting the warm summer air wrap around you both.

He turned to you, his gaze soft but hesitant. “I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed. “I know.”

Jake looked down, rolling his glass between his palms. “But I also know… you can’t stay forever.”

And there it was.

The thing you had both been avoiding for weeks. The unspoken truth lingering in the space between late-night kisses and morning laughter.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his, squeezing just a little tighter than usual.

“We always knew this was temporary,” you said softly. “Jade’s school starts in September. Our life is back home.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Come back with us.”

The words left your lips before you could second-guess them.

Jake froze, eyes snapping to yours. “What?”

You took a breath. “You don’t have to stay in Milan forever either,” you whispered. “You said it yourself—this was your last contract. You could come home.”

Jake stared at you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

You kept going, kept reaching for him.

“You said you wanted to be there for everything,” you murmured. “You are. You have been. And I know how much soccer means to you, I know, but… you don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

Jake’s throat bobbed. His fingers tightened around yours, like he was holding onto the words, holding onto hope.

“I’ll think about it,” he whispered.

And for now—

That was enough.

-

Jake had saved this moment for last.

He knew how much Jade loved soccer, how much she admired him, but seeing his world with her own eyes? That was something else.

The second they stepped onto the San Siro Stadium field, Jade froze.

“This is where you play?” she whispered, eyes huge, taking in the massive stadium surrounding them.

Jake knelt beside her, pressing a gentle hand to her back. “This is where I play.”

Jade turned to him so slowly, like she was processing something massive.

“I wanna play here one day,” she declared, her little voice so serious.

Jake felt his heart explode.

His daughter, standing in the middle of his stadium, declaring her dreams out loud.

He pulled her into his side, pressing a firm kiss to the top of her head. “Then we’ll make it happen, baby girl.”

And she believed him.

-

A few months later, back home in Austrailia, it was a Tuesday afternoon when Jake dropped the biggest bombshell of his life.

You were standing in the kitchen, absentmindedly stirring a pot of soup while Jade sat cross-legged on the floor, drawing something that would undoubtedly be pinned to the fridge later. Jake had just come back from a long call in the living room, pacing the floor with that look on his face—the one that meant he was thinking way too hard about something.

You should’ve known something was up when he walked over, gently plucking the spoon from your hand and setting it aside like he needed your full attention.

“I’m moving back,” he said, just like that.

Your heart stopped.

You blinked. “What?”

Jake’s eyes softened, serious but unwavering. “I want to be here,” he said simply. “With you. With Jade.”

The words settled in your chest like a slow-building fire, warm and terrifying all at once.

“You’re moving back?” you repeated, trying to wrap your head around it.

Jake nodded. “My contract’s up at the end of the season,” he explained. “I talked to my agent, my coach, my team. They all know I’m looking for something local—something closer to home.” His voice dropped a little, like it wasn’t just about logistics. “Closer to you.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because this was everything. This was the one thing you hadn’t dared to hope for.

“I can’t keep living on another continent, only seeing Jade through a screen,” he continued. “I can’t keep missing things. I need to be here—really here. I want to take her to school. I want to be at every game. I want—” He hesitated. “I want us to figure things out.”

Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as you searched his face. “Jake,” you started, voice unsteady. “Are you sure?”

His expression didn’t waver. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

A soft tug at your shirt broke the moment. Jade was staring up at both of you, completely unaware of the emotional hurricane happening in real-time.

“Are you guys talking about me?” she asked, blinking.

Jake crouched down immediately, meeting her at eye level. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, voice softer now. “We’re talking about how I’m gonna be staying here. Not just visiting. Living here.”

Jade tilted her head, considering this. “Like… all the time?”

Jake nodded. “All the time.”

Her eyes widened. “So I get to see you every day?”

“Every single day.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, processing. Then, without warning, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping around him with the kind of unrestrained joy that made your chest tighten.

“YAY!” she shrieked. “Does this mean I get double bedtime stories now?”

Jake laughed, lifting her easily into his arms. “If that’s what you want,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll read all the bedtime stories.”

Jade beamed, completely satisfied. “Best. News. Ever.”

You watched them, heart aching in the best way, because—yeah. Maybe it was.

[hom3landr]

First I just wanted to say please take your time whether it’s writing the next chapter or dealing with mental health just please take your time. Baby steps! Anyway I had a little baker verse idea! She is teaching Ryan how to make chocolate chip cookies so they get to know each other and hang out meanwhile Homelander comes home from a meeting and walks in on them and is just so happy to see his son and his girlfriend getting along!❤️

Hello! Thank you so much for the request. I did tweak it just a bit but I hope the spirit of the ask remains in the final product.

Gingersnap

Homelander learns the importance of patience as Ryan learns a new recipe

Homelander leans against the entryway to the kitchen, a fond sincere smile lighting up his face. His son and his love are bathed in the golden light of the sun coming in through the kitchen window. The grin on Ryan’s face is just as bright even through the slight shyness that he carries around you. You’re rifling through the cabinets as you set ingredients down on the counter haphazardly.

He’d begun introducing Ryan to you slowly. He was perfectly happy to speed up the process but you’d insisted on being patient. You didn’t want to overwhelm Ryan and you were annoyingly insistent about respecting Becca’s boundaries. He’d snapped at Becca once and the look you gave him was so stormy that he hadn’t dared try again. The shock of it amidst all of your normal sweetness was enough to keep him in line. Mostly at least, you still had to deal with some grumbling. After lots of discussion, a tentative schedule was made and you introduced your presence into their lives. You fit in remarkably well.

“What kind of cookies would you like to make?” You ask breezily as you sweep around the kitchen like a whirlwind. Ryan seems a bit dazed by all the activity, excited but still becoming accustomed to the energy of a new person inside his home.

“I like chocolate chip! My mom makes them for me sometimes.” He looks over to where his mother is sitting at the table. She’s flipping through a magazine and she returns Ryan’s grin softly. She still doesn’t trust the situation fully, but she’s more at ease when you join Homelander for his visits.

“Oh no. I can’t compete with mom’s recipe. I’m a smart woman, I know when I’m beat.” You shoot Becca a wink. She doesn’t return it but she smiles.

Ryan giggles.

Homelander wants to intervene and reveal himself. He hasn’t been noticed by the happy scene yet. He’d only just returned from a quick meeting. But another part of him is happy to observe the peaceful scene. It warms a part of him he’s not sure has ever been warmed before, at least not like this.

His family

“How about some gingersnaps?” You ask Ryan, who looks at you quizzically.

“I’ve never had a gingersnap.” He replies and you clap your hands together with joy. There’s nothing you enjoy more than baking something new with someone. You told him once that there is something so pure about an honest first reaction. It’s a brief glimpse of something elusive, something no one else will be able to see again. You don’t even mind if it isn’t positive. It’s the experience that matters to you. He doesn’t quite understand how you let disappointment roll right off of you. Authenticity doesn’t seem worth the risk of rejection, even if it’s something as small as a baked good.

“Never had a ginger snap?!? Well it is your lucky day!” You reach out to give Ryan’s shoulders a friendly shake before separating out the dry and wet ingredients into little piles. He joins you eagerly and it doesn’t take long before you playfully dust him with a bit of flour. He retaliates by flicking you with sugar but before the two of you can devolve into a full food fight, you remember that it isn’t your kitchen to clean up. Homelander knows from experience that you aren’t afraid to get messy in your own space. He has a cookie dough stained cape to prove it, he keeps it folded up safely in his closet.

Homelander wants to clear his throat. He wants to step in and insert himself, let the domesticity wash over him. But he doesn't, he just watches. For once, he’s content.

[cheol-e-kat]

• no blueberries, feat. mingyu, pt. 2 •

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

mentioned: seungcheol, joshua, vernon, christian yu (dpr ian in part ii)

word count: 3.1k

genre: fake dating, college au, college student!mingyu, college student!reader, fluff, f2l, idiots, idiots in love, angst, pining, denial of feelings, established friendship (reader & ian), miscommunication

summary: mingyu was just your lab partner and study buddy for several semesters, but lately things seem to have changed, and maybe everyone else has noticed, but for the most part, neither of you even think about what you are to one another until mingyu asks you to be his 'fake' date for a long weekend trip so he can avoid an ex, the biggest problem is realizing that there's nothing fake about your relationship but when mingyu won't even talk about what you are to each other, you start to think things might be over before they even really start

warnings: explicit language, mentions of anxiety, sexually suggestive situations, drinking

a/n: they are literally idiots in love but they're so dumb they almost don't deserve a happy ending - i am screaming at them ;-; ooof writing part ii...and well, i need to update this with additional characters and genres...oops (if you don't know - i am not a planning writing - i just go where the characters take me - they get their shit together - trust the process) besides it's named for a dpr ian song anyway, might as well include him for his dilf status and the accent

xx kat

[part i] [part iii]

♡ if you would like to be tagged in my upcoming posts, go [here]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

𝒚/𝒏

she hadn’t expected the multiple messages asking if she was free that weekend - there were even a few from guys she thought were taken. she didn’t respond, though. even if she was feeling petty and annoyed, she wasn’t that clueless about what was actually going on between herself and the dumb boy sleeping in their room. mingyu hadn’t ever answered her. and she kind of wanted to stay mad at him over it. but she also wanted to be curled in bed with him, like a normal weekend morning, all warm and cozy wrapped in his arms. 

she reasoned she could hold out a bit longer. besides, she remembered his messages from the night before - this was the perfect time to scroll through them and maybe find some tiny crumbs to reignite her annoyance.

she wasn’t annoyed, though - he was mainly asking if she was okay and wondering if she would come down because he missed her - wanted her - was she asleep? - he wanted to be where she was - he was tired - ‘plz come down’ x2 - ‘i’m all alone’ - he wished they were back home - ‘we shouldn’t have come’. she bit her lip gently, wondering half-heartedly if he had meant any of it or just needed an excuse to check his phone.

she knew he meant it - he was unquestionably honest when drinking. she sighed, knowing she was maybe just as bad at communicating as he was. but she knew she had asked him more than once to define what they were.

she couldn’t fully take back her shitty messages saying they weren’t dating, even though it was technically true. but she could tag him in a post - a really sappy post with pictures from the last six months. she could have gone back further, but then he would know more than she was ready to share, like how she thought it was serious much sooner.

she picked the photos she thought were cutest, especially the one where he had given her a piggyback ride when she got tired waiting in line for a roller coaster. she tagged his username, but then she stared at the blank description box because what should she even say, she wondered.

she scrolled back through all of her photos to the first one they had taken together - him hugging her from behind while they had walked around in the first snow the year before. he looked so cute and happy - she pressed her lips into a line, feeling way too vulnerable, but she added it in the photo set anyway.

and the description, she typed it super fast before she could talk herself out of it, ‘beautiful, perfect, smart, sweet @/ming0o - i probably don’t tell you how much i like you as often as i should but i hope you know how much i care about you - love’ - she immediately erased the 'love'.

she had the intense urge to throw her phone into the woods from embarrassment. it was way too honest and a display of pure feelings - things she did not do. because she knew putting herself out there like that was scary.

she stared at the draft for a few minutes - she couldn’t hit post. she decided to wait until that afternoon. or maybe never - maybe she should just tell him - that’s what ian kept saying when they talked - not to mention all of britt’s not so subtle comments about their apartment and how often mingyu was there. 

she could tell him that she thought things were serious, that she had broken off things with someone else for him, even - she had kind of been dating someone, but it hadn’t really mattered when mingyu first kissed her. she was pretty sure no one mattered when mingyu first kissed her - the earth could have flown into the sun, and she wouldn't have noticed.

she stared out at the water, imagining the conversation she could start with him - the one where she actually explained all the things she felt for him. but even thinking about it was nerve-racking. she would probably just end up making out with him before she actually admitted to having feelings. physical things were always safer.

she worried her lip and, insteasd of posting anything, went to ian’s account - she scrolled through his photos from greece - a trip she was meant to go on for friends-mas vacation. but that was the thing, they had known each other for ages and had been best friends for way too long. their closeness always kind of ebbed and flowed based on whether one of them was dating someone. but they also talked about everything, like when she felt like things with mingyu were getting serious, she had told ian about it, mainly because she was happy. she rolled her eyes, remembering those conversations.  

she went to her messages, they had talked a few weeks before about maybe going to a show together, a band they both liked was touring. her fingers hovered over the keys - she sighed and exited. she probably didn’t need to pull the rip cord just yet, she decided, because if she texted ian now, with the way she felt, she wasn't sure what would happen. even if she knew ian was probably awake.

she tried reassuring herself that she was just freaking out a bit, so she got up to go in and take a shower before anyone else was awake. she tried to stay in the shower as long as possible without being rude. she was slow drying off and throwing on fresh clothes, prolonging her time to think, she told herself.

she opened the bathroom door as quietly as she could, thinking she could tiptoe past the bed and back to isolate herself on the balcony. ideally, she could hide there and go unnoticed. but no, glancing at mingyu was enough to convince her that she should climb back into bed. she loved how was easily she was enveloped by mingyu. she tried to sleep, thinking it would make her feel better. 

instead, she felt him kiss her neck, “hey,” he whispered. 

“hey,” she worried that she sounded weird.

“good swim?”

she hummed in response, not trusting herself to talk. she wondered if she was losing her mind. they were both quiet for a few minutes, but to her, it felt like the quiet before a storm.

he sighed and nuzzled closer, “did you really tell people we aren’t dating?” his voice was soft against her skin.

fuck, she thought, of course someone had already seen that and messaged him. she rolled her eyes, “i mean, it’s not like we’ve actually had that conversation.” 

she tried to sound normal about it, even though she had literally asked him multiple times, and he refused to answer. she just wanted him to tell her whether they were dating, or if he even wanted to be dating, but he wouldn’t - anyone else, sure, he had an answer - but her, nothing but silence. and there was the annoyance with him. back in full force. 

“i know, but it’s kind of what we talked about before, right?”

she closed her eyes tightly, “no, we talked about fake dating - like me being your fake girl friend for this, not like ‘dating-dating - i'm just katie-prevention,’,” she wasn’t a fan of the revisionist version of the conversation they had had.

he sighed, “does it really matter what we call it for the weekend? we’re together all the time, right - that’s what's important,” he sounded like her dad explaining something that was just so simple, even as he ignored the real reason he had asked her, “even if you completely abandoned me last night.” he whined softly, emphasizing how he felt about her staying in their room.

“so tell everyone i had a migraine or something, and now everything is fine,” she knew she sounded more and more on edge, but really what was another lie anyway, she wondered.

he was quiet for a few moments, “y/n, you know you’re here because we’re together, which just happens to help me avoid katie - i would have asked you to come no matter what,” she could feel him squeezing her closer as he talked.

“right, i guess so, since you don’t really seem to have an issue telling her to fuck off, so i’m not sure how i’m helping with that anyway,” she knew it was a bitchy thing to say, but the words had already tumbled out of her mouth. 

he groaned, “you know it’s not really about that - i mean, i told her to fuck off when she said the shit about wanting to hook up - i told her i was taken, so here i am, very happily taken,” he sounded annoyed and nonchalant all at once. 

she shifted around to face him, “wait, you said someone told you about that?” she whispered, certain that she had heard him incorrectly.

he shrugged, “no, she cornered me after practice and told me we should hook up.”

“and you didn’t tell me about that super normal encounter?” she tried to keep her voice under control.

“why would i when i know it would just make you worry over nothing, plus i handled it - i told you, i wanted you to come and just relax and hang out - yeah, katie is here, but who cares? i’m here with you,” he tugged her tshirt gently as he spoke, pulling her close.

she truly had to be losing it - his ‘katie problem’ was the entire basis for him asking her. 

he seemed to register her anger and got up after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, “i’m going to shower, and then we should get food,” he murmured and kissed her cheek. 

she could only nod in response.

⋆˙⟡

she waited a few minutes before hopping off the bed and going out on the balcony to call ian. even if they had been on a friendship hiatus for a bit - in fact, most of her friendships had been since she had been with mingyu - she knew she could call him - it was the whole ‘basic trust’ part of their relationship. something she and mingyu didn’t seem to have.

besides, she had virtually only been around mingyu’s friends for months. she was feeling like it was starting to skew her view of the world.

“hi, love,” he answered on the first ring.

“hey,” she bit her lip, trying to think of how to ask what she wanted to ask.

“what’s up?” 

she sighed, “umm, just things,” she tried to sound normal as she paced back and forth.

“erm, yeah, can i guess - does it have to do with your, uh, relationship status correction comments?” he laughed. 

she nodded, as though he could see her, “yes - i - could you pick me up, please?”

it had been a while since she had called him this randomly and asked to be picked up. but that didn’t matter, he just asked for a pin drop, not an explanation. his friend would drop him off, and they would drive her suv back. she didn’t even have to ask if ‘back’ meant to his or not - she fully knew the answer. she was glad that she had done very little to unpack the night before, and that they weren’t that far from the city. she did go back out onto the balcony to watch her ‘find my’ like it was a lifeline to the world. 

she couldn’t wrap her mind around what mingyu had admitted this morning compared to what he had said before. it was shocking - he had at least withheld important details from her. and she was angry. but the worst part was that he also made her feel like she was the issue. not to mention, why couldn’t he just talk to her, she wondered for the millionth time. 

she needed a break. she needed to go back to her normal life. this whole thing had spun out of control, and she was deluded if she thought there was anything serious between her and mingyu.

⋆˙⟡

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮 

he took a long shower, loving the seemingly endless hot water. he wasn’t ready to be awake though - he had wanted to stay in bed with y/n like normal. he wanted everything with y/n to be like normal, but everything felt off, especially her.

it was like she was pulling into herself, which only reminded him of when he first met her, and his entire existence annoyed her. there were times when she was curled against him that he couldn’t help but remember exactly how cold and distant she seemed to him when they met. and how random it felt that they had ever moved past that point - he genuinely had no idea how he had managed it, which was reason enough for him to not say certain things. 

like when she asked why he had told everyone they were dating - he didn’t want to explain that he hadn’t, that they had assumed, and he couldn’t bring himself to say they were wrong because it was what he wanted. but it was embarrassing as fuck to admit to her that he wanted it as badly as he didn’t and couldn’t even ask her.

he had tiptoed around the thought for months - even the day before, he had been asking seungcheol what he could say to her. seungcheol had looked at him like he was insane, ‘you are fucking, and you’re asking me what exactly - dude you’re with her - just tell her you want some official stamp or whatever saying what a very good boy you are and she’s your owner - let her buy you a collar, but get the fuck out, you’re killing me with this.’ 

his thoughts were interrupted by seungcheol opening the bathroom door, “dude, if you use all of the hot water, i will actually kill you,” he proclaimed bluntly.

“yeah, yeah - if you killed me every time you promised, i would have been dead five minutes into our meeting - you need a better threat,” he still turned off the water.

seungcheol rolled his eyes, “maybe, but you still got out of the shower, right?”

“pure coincidence,” he mumbled as he dried off.

“umhm, coincidence like y/n openly saying you’re not dating and also being gone this morning?” 

mingyu paused for a moment but shook his head. he was sure seungcheol was just being a dick - there was no way she would have left without saying anything. but he couldn’t help wondering exactly how long he had been in the shower. 

⋆˙⟡

as much as he was shocked realizing that y/n had left, he was absolutely in no mood for the chorus of “so what did you do to fuck this up” that came from virtually everyone when he walked downstairs - he didn’t stay to eat, especially when he noticed katie looking way too perky. 

he had already tried calling and messaging her - he even texted her roommate to ask, which was pointless since britt left him on read. he thought of going back to campus when she wouldn’t answer, but he could imagine that would only make things worse.

if she wanted space, then he should give her space - even if knowing that another guy had picked her up completely fried his brain. he stayed in his room the rest of the day, staring at his phone, hoping for something to change. 

apparently, he seemed depressed enough that even seungcheol tried to make him feel better by leaving him some beers, mumbling something about not to freak out and that it was probably a misunderstanding. 

mingyu had just groaned, “pretty sure leaving with another guy is not a misunderstanding.”

“you’re acting like she doesn’t have friends, when you know she does, even if she’s been up your ass for months - maybe she just needs a break,” seungcheol was using his reasonable voice.

mingyu glared and shook his head, “needs a break? y/n needs a break from me that involves another guy?! yeah - you are excelling at making me feel so good about about all of this - plus like that’s one of those things, there’s always guys who talk to her, even when we’re out, i can be standing right next to her, my arm around her, and still, dudes approaching,” he popped the tab on one of the beers, gulping it down angrily.

seungcheol watched him for a moment, “right, who wouldn’t want to be around you to see the neuroticism up close - dude, she’s mainly friends with guys, that’s why she was at our parties before you ever started talking - pretty sure that’s when you noticed her even and started following her from a distance like the saddest lost dog,” he laughed as he dodged the pillow mingyu threw at his head.

“fuck you - fucking lost dog? and i am not neurotic!” mingyu threw back his head, downing the rest of the beer.

“yeah, stable king over here - also the most lost, most pathetic dog - ask anyone if i’m fucking lying - you’re whipped and have been, which like, cool, taste, she’s worth it, but then somehow katie was in the picture and we all decided you were a lost cause because how do you go from like a full out 10 to like a 3.4,” he dodged another pillow, not laughing this time, “if you make me spill this”—

“what you’ll kill me? you? you’re like a foot shorter”— he didn’t even get to finish the insult because seungcheol had already hit him in the mouth.

mingyu spent the rest of the break staring at his phone and nursing his split lip. to be fair, he'd given seungcheol a black eye in the process, which had made him feel slightly better. but then everyone in their gc started asking where his owner was - vernon even edited a lost dog poster with a picture of him. it was annoyingly funny. he couldn’t even think of a good response.

he hated the ride back to campus, knowing he would see y/n in classes but having no clue what to do was definitely killing him. he was so sure of it, which was why he planned to skip classes the next day. and maybe the day after too. their schedules were way too similar. he might be out for a week. he wondered if his parents really would kill him if he flunked out - that was the standard threat, but he had never really considered it quite as hard as he did on the ride back from joshua’s lake house.

⋆˙⟡

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

a/n: they are such emotional train wrecks - i'm like kicking my feet at the insanity of these two, so yeah, hope you're finding it fun too - also cheol as the voice of reason but still roasting mingyu the entire time <33 also feel free to leave notes or asks or submit a lost dog poster for mingyu skskskskss - i do love to know what you all are vibing with /gen

♡ kat

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

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tag list: @syluslittlecrows

if you want to be tagged, go [here] & my [master list] if you want to read more

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |12|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

Joey sat in the living room while you went to get Grace, she couldn’t stop replaying everything you told her. Saying your story was a lot, was an understatement; she couldn’t imagine surviving all that. She survived Abigail’s wrath only because of the others and because she ended up developing a connection with the girl, plus having a common enemy in Frank definitely helped the situation. You were, for the most part, on your own, one stranger by your side, until he wasn’t, she couldn’t imagine someone sacrificing themselves for you like that.

You survived all of that in one night, losing a new friend in the process, and then a month later you learned you were now one of those creatures. Frank tried to turn Joey, it was strictly to control her, but she didn’t want to be a vampire in general. She didn’t fully understand how the whole thing worked but she always considered herself lucky that it didn’t work. She could probably deal with the not going out in daylight thing and even the blood drinking part, but she’d never be able to see her son again. Even if she could have controlled herself like Abigail, she never would have trusted herself around him, couldn’t trust that she herself, or that life wouldn’t hurt him.

You weren’t lucky though; you got bit and now every month you were forced to turn into one of the monsters that did that to you. Joey clocked the self-hatred pretty much right after meeting you, you hid it well, but it was the way you talked about certain things and how you reacted. Honestly, Joey was surprised you were still alive considering how much you seemed to despise what you were. You stopped talking after getting to the part where you met Grace, Joey couldn’t begin to imagine what those first few months were like together, how Grace got you to where you were now.

“You ready?” Grace asked, breaking Joey out of her thoughts.

Joey nodded, a part of her was disappointed you weren’t taking her home, but she wasn’t sure she’d get in the car if you even offered. She wasn’t the biggest fan of Grace at the moment either, but she didn’t have to worry about Grace trying to rip out her throat, at least she didn’t think she did.

Joey followed Grace to her car which was a nice simple black one, nothing like your Jeep. It was definitely nice, the seats were leather, but it looked like any car the average person would drive, it didn’t scream money like the ones Joey saw in the garage. Grace seemed to have cars for every occasion, but this one seemed to be all her, who she truly was, not the mask she showed everyone else.

“I do want to apologize for lying to you,” Grace said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “That’s not something that’s easy to tell someone without them overreacting.” Joey scoffed at that. “I only wanted to protect them.” Joey looked over at Grace, she could see the care the other woman had for you. You were fiercely protective of Grace, but it was reciprocated just as much. “But I truly am sorry for dragging you into this.”

Joey nodded, she believed the apology was sincere, but she wasn’t sure about forgiveness yet, this lie almost got her killed. “Why did you save them?” Joey couldn’t help but ask.

Grace snapped her head to the side and then quickly back to the road as if she remembered she had to focus on driving. “They told you that.”

“You said they’d tell me everything.” Joey furrowed her brow slightly; she wasn’t sure why Grace was shocked that you told her about that part of your story.

“I was prepared to shoot them, had heard reports of werewolves before, they run in packs, not easy to go after on my own.” Joey nodded along; she gathered that based on what you had told her. “But then there were random reports of one in New York. I packed my stuff and took off, couldn’t pass up going after one that was apparently alone.”

“So, what changed?”

“I found them,” Grace whispered, she got a distant look in her eye, probably remembering that day. “They’re hard to kill when they’re transformed.

 Joey scoffed. “That’s one way to put it,” she mumbled.

“They killed someone before I found them.” Joey sucked in a breath, she knew you must have had killed people before, but assuming and knowing were different things. “I found the body,” Grace shook her head. “Completely shredded. Then tracked them the rest of the way and waited.

“You waited?” Joey’s mouth fell open. Every mission she’d been sent on had been about taking out the threat and saving the innocents, but here Grace was telling her she waited to shoot you, after discovering the body of someone you killed.

“I was more than prepared to shoot, had them in my sight and everything. If they went after anyone else, I would have taken the shot.”

“But they didn’t.”

Grace shook her head. “When they finally shifted back in the morning I approached, placed the gun right at the back of their head.” Joey tried to ignore the feeling of hearing someone put a gun to the back of your head, how close you were to dying, and she didn’t even know you at the time.

“Then they looked up at me,” Grace whispered. Joey glanced over to see tears had filled Grace’s eyes. “They weren’t like the others, they didn’t lunge at me trying to get another kill in, they didn’t try to run, they didn’t even beg for their life,” she let out humorless chuckle. “They begged me to pull the trigger, they saw the blood on their hands, and they wanted to die instead of risking something like that happening again.”

Joey sat in silence the rest of the way, taking in everything Grace told her. Despite hating what you were, you were always in good spirits. You were protective and liked to joke around, you were more considerate than anyone else Joey had ever met. She didn’t understand how someone like that, who made sure she was safe and always got back to her son, who felt guilty about pulling her away for a job, how someone like that could be in such a dark place like Grace described.

Joey looked up when she felt the car come to a stop, they were outside her apartment already. “Thanks,” Joey mumbled and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” Grace said, resting a hand on Joey’s arm, which she was quick to take away when Joey looked down at the hand. “Don’t do anything rash.” Joey furrowed her brow at that. “I know you’re not happy with us, with me, maybe we’ve broken your trust completely.” Joey looked down at the sidewalk, mutual trust was the most important thing in a partnership, especially when it came to trusting someone with your life. “But just consider everything you’ve learned before you make any decisions.”

Joey didn’t say anything, she just nodded and closed the door. She didn’t look back as she made her way into the apartment building, but she knew Grace didn’t drive off until Joey was fully in the building. She trudged up the stairs to her apartment and once she was inside, she slumped against the door, mindlessly tossing her keys onto the kitchen counter as she pressed her palms into her eyes. She looked at the clock on the stove and saw she had a bit over an hour before she’d have to pick up Caleb, just enough time to shower and change.

Ana stripped her clothes and hopped into the shower. She scrubbed herself clean, finding bits of twigs in her hair as she ran her hands through it. She closed her eyes as she let the water run over her, she saw flashes of the night before, of a monster slaughtering everyone. Her eyes snapped open and then she saw your face, the complete opposite of the monster she had seen, the shame that weighed down on you, how it was as if you were afraid to look at her the majority of the conversation.

She finally hopped out of the shower when the water started to turn cold. She quickly changed, throwing on a clean pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. She looked down at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor before balling them up and tossing them in the laundry basket. She glanced at the clock one more time, she had a few extra minutes. She grabbed her leather jacket before heading out the door, making sure to bring the basket of dirty laundry with her and down to the bottom floor so she could toss in a load, she didn’t want Caleb to come home and see her clothes covered in blood and mud.

She made her way down the street, walking quickly to make sure she got to the school before the bell rang. She hadn’t talked to Caleb since she dropped him off at school yesterday morning, he got picked up by her neighbor and spent the night at a friend’s. She had told him she had a late shift and she’d be there to pick him up from school, he seemed excited to stay the night at his friends, but she didn’t miss the forced smile, as if he still didn’t believe she’d be there waiting for him when school got out.

Ana got to the front of school just as the bell rang. She glanced over the kids as they ran out the front door until her eyes landed on Caleb. He had his head down and looked up, glancing at the spot Ana always waited for him and seemed to have to do a double take when his eyes landed on her. Ana gave him an awkward smile as he made his way over to her. “Hey,” Ana greeted when he got to her side. “How was the sleepover?”

“It was fun,” Caleb said with a small smile. “How was work?”

Ana tensed up at the question, but she tried to brush it off as they walked back to the apartment. “It was okay, I’m not sure if it’s going to work out so much anymore.”

She didn’t want to tell Caleb everything obviously, she wanted to protect his innocence as much as possible, but she couldn’t stand the thought of lying to him. Caleb was quite observant; he would notice if anything changed, and she didn’t want him to worry. She didn’t want him to go back to wondering why she was suddenly waiting around to hear back from employers and relentlessly applying to places.

“Oh,” Caleb whispered. “Did something happen?”

Ana let out a long sigh as she pushed open the door to the apartment building. “Sort of,” she admitted. “Let’s just say I’m not sure I can trust my boss and my partner anymore.”

“Did they do something wrong?” Caleb looked back at her curiously as she closed the door to the apartment.

Ana rested her arms on the kitchen counter as she thought long and hard about Caleb’s question. She could choose the easy answer and just say yes. The truth was you had lied, you had knowingly put her life in danger, but it was your secret to tell. Ana couldn’t fault you for not sharing your entire life story, what happened to you still clearly affected you, you only told her, not because you trusted her with the information, but you felt bad and obligated for her to know after what happened.

“Not necessarily,” Ana said slowly.

“Then what’s the problem?” Caleb tilted his head, his eyebrows scrunched ever so slightly.

“They kept a secret from me.” Caleb only seemed to scrunch his brow even more at that. “And it affected our most recent job, I’m not sure I can trust them anymore.”

Ana turned and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, she figured the conversation was done since Caleb had been silent. When she turned around, she saw Caleb was still standing in the same spot with a contemplative look on his face. His eyes were glued to the ground and there was a slight frown on his face.

“Are they a bad person?” Caleb asked, tilting his head as he looked up at Ana.

Ana opened and closed her mouth a few times, out of all the things she expected, it definitely wasn’t that. “No,” Ana said easily with a shake of her head.

“Then why can’t you forgive them?”

“It’s not that simple,” Ana sighed.

“But why? You trusted them before; you like your job.” Ana looked down at the counter, she barely trusted you before, you had proven yourself and earned her trusting you with her life, but then you lied to her. “Why can’t you just give them a second chance?” Ana looked up at her son again. “Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?” Ana’s mouth fell open, she missed a lot, she wasn’t sure how she ended up with such a thoughtful and brilliant son, it certainly wasn’t her doing, and it definitely wasn’t his father’s. “I thought it was best to not judge someone based on their past mistakes.”

Ana’s eyes fell to the floor again, she couldn’t stand the look in her son’s eyes. She knew what he wasn’t saying, Caleb was too smart for his own good. She was a shitty mother; she only recently got her life semi together to even come back into his life. She came to him, asking him for not only forgiveness but a second chance, one she still didn’t think she actually deserve. The main difference was you didn’t deserve Ana’s anger. You lied, you put her life in danger, and yet Ana couldn’t fault you for that, she had done worse to her own son after all.

Ana looked up and watched her son walk off towards his room. She furrowed her brow when he stopped at the entryway to the hallway and look back at her. “I like how things are now,” he said quietly. “You’ve seemed happier and less stressed.” Ana wanted to laugh at that, she wasn’t sure how she could be less stressed after dealing with various supernatural creatures she thought were just myth and legend trying to kill her. “And,” Caleb’s eyes suddenly refused to meet Ana’s. “You’ve been around more. It’s been nice,” he mumbled at the floor.

Ana smiled at her son’s words and at the way he took off to his room without another word. She still had a lot to prove she felt, she hadn’t completely earned Caleb’s trust again, but it seemed she was well on her way to it. You had been considerate of her time with Caleb, it always seemed like a priority to you because you knew it was Ana’s number one priority. Grace was even considerate of it for the most part, she accepted it when Ana first told her Caleb came first. Grace and you both seemed to accept Ana probably wouldn’t want to return, you seemed to not want to try and convince her to stay but Grace did. Grace didn’t say anything to try and manipulate Ana’s thoughts, she just asked for Ana to think of everything she learned before making her decision.

Ana grabbed her water and moved to the couch. She had enjoyed what the two of you were doing, she felt like she was actually helping people. She guessed she’d have to ask you, but this seemed like the only secret between the two of you and now it was out. She had nothing to worry about, from now on she’d be able to go in knowing all the information, she could say no if a mission during a full moon came up again.

Ana grabbed her phone before she could second guess herself. She scrolled through her contacts and found your name. The phone rang a few times, and she started to question whether you’d answer her. Ana knew you were trying to keep your distance, but she figured if she was calling you, you’d know she wanted to talk to you.

“Hello?” you finally answered, your voice sounding raspy from sleep.

“Did I wake you?” Ana asked, furrowing her brow as she looked at the clock, it had only been a couple hours since she left the mansion.

“Joey?” You had definitely been asleep, it seemed you didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering. “Is everything okay?” you suddenly sounded more awake.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ana assured you. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep, I would have waited to call.”

“It’s okay, I usually sleep after….” Ana nodded to herself, that made sense, she was sure shifting could be quite exhausting, it must take a toll on you in some way. “Anyway,” you cleared your throat. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Ana pulled out a sucker from her pocket and began twirling it around in her fingers. She could hear you breathing on the other end of the line, but you didn’t ask again, you didn’t try and push her to talk, you just waited. She was sure she could hang up on you right and you wouldn’t call back, you’d just accept it.

“I want to keep working with you,” Ana finally said.

She heard you suck in a breath then nothing but silence. “Are you sure?” you asked, you almost sounded confused that she’d choose such a thing. “You don’t have to. Grace will more then compensate you for the job. You don’t need-”

“I want to,” Ana cut you off. “I want to give this partnership a chance. Assuming all cards are on the table now?” Ana couldn’t think of what else you could possibly be keeping from her, but she had to at least ask.

“Of course, you know everything.”

“Then yes, I want to continue working with you.”

“Okay. I’ll call you when there’s a new job or,” you quickly corrected yourself. “I’ll have Grace call you.” Despite her calling you, it was clear you were unsure where she actually stood involving you.

“You can call me.”

There was silence for a few seconds, Ana could picture you forgetting she couldn’t see you and just nodding to yourself. “Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Ana heard you shout as she started to pull the phone away. “If-if you ever don’t want to work together,” your voice sounded smaller than Ana had ever heard it. “It’s okay, I’ll understand. I’m sure we can find a way for you to still work with us but never have to see me.”

Ana’s mouth fell open at that, you were not only giving her an out but basically telling her she’d always have a job. She had no idea what that would look that, she couldn’t imagine doing this job without you by her side now.

“That won’t be necessary,” Ana said. “I’ll wait for your call and sorry for waking you, get some sleep.”

“Thanks,” you said. Ana could practically picture you smiling, the shy smile you always hid from people, not the one you put on for show. “Bye.”

Ana relaxed back into the cushions, she made the right choice, she was sure of it. She didn’t know what the future held, what monster the two of you would face next, but she knew the two of you would be able to handle it. Part of her felt even more protected knowing what you were and knowing you would be at her side, even if she was still absolutely terrified of your other half. Ana wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to see you like that again, but that was a problem for another day.

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