#hit me in the feels and I’ll come back for more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 2 days ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

chapter summary: After searching for answers about his past, Logan comes back to the mansion after finding nothing at Alkali Lake. When he comes back he sees you, the only thing he can remember.

word count: 6.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i skipped x1 (mostly because i felt like i couldn't place reader into the story and have her actually make a change in it) so we're starting with x2! don't worry, next chapter is going to make you sick with tooth rotting fluff

(also thank you for 700 followers!! and happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! <3)

warnings/tags: follows events of x2 (strays slightly), reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, light violence

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8

Alkali Lake held nothing. No clues, no leads, nothing. And because of that he’s still drifting, unable to remember anything but you.

He’s not sure when the last time he saw you was, he can only remember that he’s had you 5 times and lost you 5 times.

But now… now he has nothing but fragments, barely more than dreams, and a dull ache he can’t ignore, even if he can no longer remember the details. He knows you were there, remembers the way your touch soothed him, the warmth of your voice—and each time he replays those memories, he feels something deeper, sharper, tugging at the places in him that will never mend.

---

Logan opened the doors to the mansion, Rogue walking towards him. “Logan!” She went up to hug him before quickly pulling back.

“You miss me, kid?”

“Not really.” She shook her head sarcastically.

“Hmm. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Who’s this?” Logan gestured with his head behind Rogue.

Rogue turned around, “oh, this is Bobby. He’s my- ”

“I’m her boyfriend.” Bobby cut in, shaking Logan’s hand using his ice powers, “call me Ice Man.”

Logan pulled away with a slight scowl, “right. Boyfriend? So how do you guys…?”

Bobby and Rogue shared a look, “well, we’re still working on that.” He said.

“Look who’s come back. Just in time.” Ororo spoke, as she walked down the stairs.

“For what?” Logan questioned.

“We need another babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Nice to see you again, Logan.” Ororo said kindly.

“Hi, Logan.” Jean spoke, announcing herself as she walked down the stairs.

Logan briefly looked her way, “Jean.”

“Uh, I should go and get the jet ready.” Ororo said quietly.

“Yeah, well, it was good to meet you.” Bobby grabbed Rogue’s hand, “come on, let’s go.”

“Bye, Logan. I’ll see- I’ll see you later!” Rogue called out.

Jean walked in front of Logan, “Storm and I are heading to Boston. We won’t be gone long. The professor wants us to track down a mutant who attacked the president.”

“So it was a mutant.” Logan responded.

“You’ll be here when we get back- unless you plan on running off again.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Oh, I could—” His words trailed off as he caught sight of you. The stack of papers in your hands wobbled as you came down the stairs, muttering under your breath. He watched you, the tilt of your head as you pushed your glasses back up, the way you carefully balanced the papers in your hands.

You. He knew you. He knew that face, that presence. It hit him like a punch to the gut, an undeniable recognition buried beneath layers of fractured memories. You were the only thing that came back to him clearly in all the chaos. The short-lived lives you had, and every time it ended up with you dead in his arms.

He blinked, processing, as if you’d vanish if he looked away. You glanced up, catching his stare, and you stopped mid-step, eyes widening a little.

“Oh, uh… hi,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your glasses.

“Hi,” he echoed, still staring, as if searching for something familiar in the way you moved.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, then tried a smile. “You’re… Logan, right?”

He swallowed, feeling something catch in his throat. “Yeah. Logan.”

Breaking the tension, Scott walked down the stairs, “find what you were looking for, Logan?”

Logan barely acknowledged Scott’s words, his gaze fixed on you. The room, the people around him, the mansion itself—they all blurred, faded, became nothing more than static in the background. He knew you. The only thing he remembered clearly, despite all the fog in his mind, was you.

The stack of papers shifted in your hands as you glanced between him and Scott, your unease clear. It was like you sensed something, too, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” Logan finally replied, his voice gruff, his eyes still on you. “Thought I’d… found something. Guess not.”

Scott didn’t seem too interested in probing. “Well, welcome back. Make yourself at home.”

But Logan barely heard him. He watched as you attempted a shy smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “I… I should go.” You hesitated, lifting the papers as if they’d shield you. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

He nodded, his throat dry. “Same.”

You hurried past, your steps soft but quick, almost like you were escaping.

Scott raised an eyebrow at Logan, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you were one for the shy ones.”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve split wood, but Scott just shrugged and walked off, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, Logan debated following you. He’d known you before; he was sure of it. And even if he couldn’t recall the exact details, there was no mistaking the pull he felt, the way his chest tightened just being in your presence. He couldn’t remember much, barely fragments, yet you were a constant. And every time, he’d lost you. Every damn time.

---

After double checking that everyone was out of their rooms, whether taken or already escaped, you made your way to the secret tunnel, hitting the paneled wall as it opened.

You saw Rogue, Bobby, John, and Logan running down the hall. “Go on,” you said, letting the kids go through before you did. You noticed no one behind you as the door slid down, closing.

“Logan!” Rogue called out.

Bobby and John had already started to run down the tunnel while you stayed by the wall, ear pressed against it trying to hear what was happening.

Rogue stayed by you, clearly worried about Logan. You opened the door quietly as Bobby and John came back. It was quiet in the hall, Logan was walking slowly toward the older man as your eyes briefly fluttered shut, pausing the intruders in time.

“Logan, come on. Let’s go.” Rogue yelled out.

“Logan,” you said gently, as he finally turned his head towards the group.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“But we won’t.” Rogue responded.

Logan contemplated for a few moments before walking towards you, “go. Keep going.” Logan entered the tunnel as the door closed behind him while you un-paused the men in the hall.

The five of you ran down the tunnel before climbing up a ladder to the garage. “Come on, get in. Get in!” Logan said.

You went to open the passenger door to the back when a large, warm hand landed on your waist, the grip warm and familiar even though you knew you'd never been this close to him before. Your breath hitched, and you glanced over your shoulder, only to meet his intense gaze as he gently nudged you toward the front seat. His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to, his touch almost hesitant, as if he was committing the feel of you to memory.

“Front seat, Y/N,” he murmured.

“R-Right. Thanks,” you stammered, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you slid into the passenger seat. He followed, taking his place behind the wheel, while Rogue, Bobby, and John piled into the back.

“This is Cyclops’s car.” Bobby said.

“Oh, yeah?” Logan unsheathed a singular claw, stabbing it into the ignition and turning on the car. The garage doors opened as the car sped out.

“What the hell was that back there?” John finally asked.

“Stryker.” Logan answered. “His name is Stryker.”

“Who is he?” Rogue questioned.

“I can’t remember.” Logan said quietly.

Rogue, after a few moments of silence, took off the dog tags around her wrist, passing them to Logan in the front, “here. This is yours.”

Even though you couldn’t see the kids in the back, you could tell they were uncomfortable with the silence. John leaned forward, “I don’t like uncomfortable silences.”

“What are you doing?” Rogue asked from beside him.

John turned on the radio as music played loudly from the car’s stereo’s, “bye, bye, bye…” Everyone groaned at the loud intrusion as John promptly turned it back off.

But, a small compartment opened, revealing a sleek metal device. “I don’t think that’s the CD player.” John said.

Logan grabbed it, twisting it in his hands. It blipped once, “whoa,” he muttered. Logan looked at John momentarily, “sit back.”

“Where we going?” John asked.

“Storm and Jean are in Boston. We’ll head that way.” Logan answered.

Bobby looked off to the side, “my parents live in Boston.”

“Good.” Logan said.

---

It was morning when you arrived at Bobby’s parents’ house. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “mom! Dad! Ronny! Is anybody home?” No one responded, the house was empty. Bobby looked at Rogue, “I’ll try and find you some clothes.” Bobby then looked over at John, who was continuously flicking his lighter open, “don’t burn anything.”

Logan was in the kitchen, trying to get the phone, or comm device he wasn’t sure, to work. He put it to his ear, “hello?” Static crackled over the device, “hello?” Logan asked again. “Come on, Jean. Where are you?”

You had just freshened up a bit when the door opened, Bobby’s family entering the house, looking at Logan in the kitchen with an open beer bottle.

“Hey, Ronny, next time you…” Bobby’s father started, but stopped when he saw Logan. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh…” Logan pointed at the stairs as Bobby ran down them.

“Bobby…?”

“Honey, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Bobby’s mother asked. Rogue quietly walked down the stairs.

“Bobby, who is this guy?”

“Uh… this is Professor Logan.” Bobby paused before speaking again, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Soon, you all ended up in the living area, the kids and Bobby’s parents sitting down on the couch with you and Logan standing in the doorway.

“So, uh, when did you first know you were a… a…” Bobby’s mother trailed off.

“A mutant?” John spoke up, still flicking his lighter open and closed.

“Would you cut that out?” she said.

“You have to understand, we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted.” his father spoke.

“Bobby is gifted.” Rogue cut in.

“We know that. We just didn’t realize…”

His mother cut off her husband, “we still love you, Bobby. It’s just… this mutant problem is a little…”

“What mutant problem?” Logan interrupted, leaning against the other side of the doorway as you with his arms crossed.

“…complicated.” she finished.

Bobby’s father spoke again, “what exactly are you a professor of Mr. Logan?”

“Art.”

“Well, you should see what Bobby can do.” Rogue said.

Bobby leaned forward, gently touching his mother’s teacup with one finger as the tea turned to ice.

“Bobby…” his mother trailed off. She flipped the teacup on its side as the ice slid to the plate.

“I can do a lot more than that.”

His mother shakily put the plate and teacup on the glass table as the cat jumped up and started to lick the ice. Bobby’s brother Ronny left the room with a quiet anger.

“Ronny?” His mother called out as he went up the stairs. “This is all my fault.”

John spoke up, “actually, they discovered that males are the ones who carry the mutant gene and pass it on, so it’s his fault.”

A few moments later, the comm device started to beep. “Oh, God…” Logan took the device out of his pocket and started to walk to the sliding door, “it’s for me.”

“Bobby… have you tried… not being a mutant?” His mother asked.

Logan came back inside and locked the sliding door, “we have to go now. Now!”

“Why?” Rogue questioned. “Logan, what’s wrong?”

He walked to the front door, claws extended and you and the kids following to come face to face with police officers on the front lawn, point guns at you.

“Drop the knives and put your hands in the air.” An officer ordered from their right.

“What’s going on here?” Logan muttered.

“Ronny.” Bobby answered, coming to the realization.

“I said, drop the knives!” The officer ordered again.

Glass shattered from inside the house, “turn around! Up against the wall! Up against the wall!” An officer ordered Bobby’s parents, still in the living area.

“This is just a misunderstanding.” Logan said.

“Put the knives down!”

Logan turned to look at the officer, “I can’t. Look,” he raised his arm slowly as the officer fired a shot, straight into Logan’s forehead.

Rogue screamed and you gasped as Logan hit the patio floor.

“All right, the rest of you- on the ground now!” The same officer ordered.

You, Bobby, and Rogue slowly sank to the ground, but John stayed standing.

“Look, kid, I said on the ground!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, kid.” The officer on the other side said.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” John flicked open his lighter as you murmured his name, “I’m the worst one.” He blasted fire at the officer who shot Logan, sending him off the patio. He turned and did the same to the woman on the other side, then inside the house at the two officers.

John turned forward, blasting fire at the officers on the front lawn, the car exploding, before doing the same to another police car. A siren sounded down the street, coming to the house, as John blasted another stationary car by the front lawn, throwing the moving car off track. He blasted that car too.

Rogue, on the ground in front of you, took off her white glove and grabbed John’s ankle. The fire in his hands died off as Rogue stopped the fires surrounding the police cars and lawn.

The bullet popped out of Logan’s head as he woke up, the Blackbird slowly landing in the street. Logan stood up, cracking his neck. Bobby and the kids rushed off the stairs first, heading to the jet.

Logan instinctively put a hand on the small of your back, not pushing you or guiding you just… resting there. You took a quick glance up at him before reverting your gaze back to what was ahead of you.

John was the first one to walk up the ramp, and the first one to see Kurt turn in his chair. “Guten tag.” Kurt greeted.

The rest of you got onto the jet, buckling in, “who the hell is this?” Logan asked.

“Kurt Wagner. But in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler.”

“As, save it. Storm?”

“We’re out of here.” The engines powered up as the ship jerked slightly while taking off.

---

“How far are we?” Logan asked, walking up behind Jean’s chair.

“We’re actually coming up on the mansion now.” Jean replied, as the console started to beep.

“I’ve got two signals approaching.” Ororo said, “coming in fast.”

“Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20,000 feet. Return with our escort to Hanscom Air Force Base. You have ten seconds to comply.”

“Wow, somebody’s angry.” Ororo commented.

Logan looked back at John, “I wonder why.”

“We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base. Lower your altitude now.” The two planes come up on both sides of the jet, “repeat-lower your altitude to 20,000 feet. This is your last warning.”

The planes started to fly behind, “they’re falling back.” Ororo spoke. Rapid beeping sounded out from the console. “They’re marking us.”

“What?” Logan asked.

“They’re going to fire! Hang on!” Ororo started to fly the jet in a defensive position as they buckled into their seats. “I got to shake them.”

The jet briefly flew upside down then righted itself, “please don’t do that again.” John said.

“I agree.” Logan remarked. “Don’t we have any weapons in this heap?”

The sky started to darken as dark clouds formed, quickly turning into tornadoes. The jet started to shake from the heavy winds as Ororo tried getting the two planes off their tails.

Once their radar was clear, Ororo stopped, the sky brightening back to its natural state.

“Everybody okay back there?” Jean questioned.

“No,” Logan answered simply.

Rapid beeping sounded out from the console once again, “oh, my God, there’s two of them,” Ororo said. Jean used her powers and took out one of the missiles, “there’s one more.” The remaining missile continued flying closer to them, “Jean?”

Jean gasped, “oh, God!” At the last second, Jean directed the missile slightly up, causing the back end of the jet to blow open.

Rogue, who wasn’t buckled in, flew out the back as Bobby yelled for her. Kurt briefly looked back before disappearing and then reappearing in the jet, right by the pilot’s seat next to Ororo and Jean as the jet nosedived.

The panels in the ship began to crackle as metal creaked and the back of the jet repaired itself. “Jean?” Ororo asked.

“It’s not me.” Jean answered, as the jet suddenly stopped, hovering over an older man and woman you didn’t recognize.

---

You had your head and arms buried deep into the jet's console, a strand of hair falling in front of your face as you tried to twist one more wire into place. The tech was scrambled from the missile hit, panels still flickering with bursts of static, and while it wasn’t exactly in your wheelhouse, you knew enough to give it a try. Besides, it kept your hands busy while the rest of the team talked to Erik around the fire and the kids set up tents.

After some time, you walked down the stairs of the jet, mostly for a small break from the incessant lighting and saw Logan smoking a cigar by the ramp. You almost turned around and walked back up, until he turned to look at you, more than halfway down the stairs.

You gulped and played with the tool in your hands as Logan looked at his cigar briefly, noticing the smoke was frozen in the air. He turned his gaze to the trees nearby also taking note that they were frozen as well; no wind blowing through their leaves.

“Ya always freeze time when you get nervous?” Logan tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you, trapped in your own nervous suspension of time. You gave a tight, embarrassed smile, the tool in your hands twisting around your fingers as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to let go of the freeze.

“No. Only sometimes,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat. The trees resumed their gentle sway, and the smoke from his cigar curled upward lazily again. Logan watched the subtle shift, something almost playful glinting in his gaze.

He took another drag of his cigar, eyes not leaving you. “So, what’s got you nervous?”

Your fingers fumbled with the tool. “It’s, um… I don’t usually come across people who…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands.

Truth was, he made you nervous. Why wouldn’t he? He was… a lot of things, and in the few days you have known him you couldn’t help but feel more reserved than usual.

Logan leaned back against the ramp, watching you with a calm expression, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Care to be more specific?” He seemed content to let you fumble, patient in a way that only made your pulse quicken more.

You shrugged, pretending to focus on the tool in your hands. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the… whole mysterious, intense thing you’ve got going. That, and the fact that I accidentally freeze time whenever you look at me like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a low chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like…” You trailed off, finally looking up at him. “Like you’re trying to figure something out, but I’m not sure I want to know what.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan said, taking a drag of his cigar. His eyes softened a bit, and you felt a warmth settle over you. He didn’t push, didn’t pry—just waited. After all, patience was one of the many things he’d perfected over the years.

You shifted on your feet, glancing down to where your fingers had turned the wrench over and over, antsy. “Maybe I just don’t know what to make of you,” you murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze again.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he replied, his voice low. There was something unspoken in his words, something you couldn’t quite name.

The silence stretched out, and then, because there was something about the way he looked at you that felt like an invitation, you spoke. “Why’d you come out here, anyway? I thought you were all about avoiding everyone else.”

Logan flicked some ash off the end of his cigar. “Maybe I was gettin’ tired of avoidin’ things.” He paused, looking out toward the treeline, then back at you. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d freeze time again.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Not exactly something I can control.”

“Good to know,” Logan replied, smirking. He took another puff, the smoke curling up in wisps around him. “So, are you fixin’ that thing, or just givin’ it the ol’ college try?”

You looked back at the jet, the half-repaired panel flickering with static. “Oh, definitely just winging it.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a ‘wing it’ type.”

You shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

The easy conversation brought a hint of a grin to his face, something warm and fleeting, and he tilted his head toward the jet. “C’mon, let’s see what else you can do, winging it.” He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging you.

You looked at him, then back at the jet, a bit of excitement tingling under your skin. “Alright, Logan. Let’s see what we can fix.”

---

“Stay with the kids.” Jean said. You opened your mouth to argue, you weren’t a child, yet it seemed like every mission you were treated like one. Never allowed on the field, never even brought in on a debriefing.

The rest of the group, other than Mystique who was already in the base, were outside the jet, making their way into Alkali Base. You were supposed to stay behind with Rogue, Bobby, and John.

“But, Jean—” you started, voice catching on the frustrated protest that lingered in your chest.

Jean turned, a hand on her hip and an exasperated look that was all too familiar. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. You’re here to look after them.”

“Right,” you muttered, crossing your arms, your gaze falling on the others, who were half paying attention, half pretending not to notice. Rogue’s worried glance lingered on you; Bobby looked between you and the hallway where the rest of the team had disappeared.

Jean’s expression softened just slightly. “This isn’t a punishment, okay? The kids need someone they trust to keep them safe.”

You glanced at Logan, who gave you a slight nod, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Fine,” you mumbled, “I’ll stay with them.”

Jean pressed a reassuring hand to your shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.” She turned to catch up with the others, her footsteps echoing as they faded into the depths of the base.

Logan lingered for a moment, gaze unwavering. He looked at you for a beat too long, and something tightened in his expression. He gave a faint nod before heading off.

As the rest of the team disappeared down the corridor, John grinned, clearly amused by your frustration. "Looks like you got a babysitting gig, huh?"

You shot him a withering look, but Rogue was quick to jump in. "It's not like that, John."

“Could be worse,” Bobby added, trying to lighten the mood, “at least we’re safe here.”

You leaned against the cold metal wall, fingers tapping the console out of habit. “Yeah,” you replied, though your voice held none of the certainty you tried to convey.

From the depths of the corridor, Logan’s scent still lingered faintly in the air. You felt the tug of something unexplainable—a pull toward him that you’d noticed ever since he first set foot in the mansion. It was like trying to remember something you knew you’d forgotten.

Your hand, almost of its own accord, clenched into a fist, feeling the temptation to slow time, to buy a few seconds to gather your thoughts and process what lingered between you and Logan. But with Rogue, Bobby, and John right there, you resisted, focusing on keeping things steady.

And, yet, as you listened to the faint sounds echoing down the hall, a deep sense of restlessness settled in your chest.

---

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly from the water before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“She’s gone,” Ororo said quietly.

The vision broke your focus as you flew the jet, the emergency landing protocol activated as it landed harshly, Rogue and Bobby standing in the cockpit by your seat.

A whoosh made you turn to the side to see Kurt putting Charles down in a seat. Kids started to climb up the stairs into the ramp as Ororo came by your side, “I got this, Y/N,” she said gently.

You let out a few more heavy breaths before standing up from the pilot’s seat, letting Ororo take your place.

As Scott fiddled with some of the controls, Charles spoke up, “Scott, we’ve got to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake.”

Logan finally climbed up the stairs, a young boy in his arms, “Bobby.”

“Hey, I got him,” Bobby replied, carefully taking the boy from Logan’s arms.

Logan watched for a moment as Bobby wrapped an arm around the kid, murmuring something reassuring to him. When the boy seemed to relax, Logan shifted his gaze to you, lingering just a beat too long, that same unreadable look in his eyes.

The jet was buzzing with energy as everyone settled in, but his eyes never left yours. You felt it, that weight, the unspoken thing hanging between you both ever since you met. The others didn’t seem to notice—Bobby was focused on the kid, Rogue was buckling in, and Ororo and Scott were adjusting settings on the console. But Logan, he was watching you, something intense simmering beneath his stoic expression.

You tried to brush it off, focusing on the quiet hum of the jet as it prepared for takeoff. But that pull was there, like something forgotten tugging at your memory, or maybe… not forgotten, exactly. Maybe something you’d never known.

Finally, unable to help yourself, you looked back at him. “What?” you asked softly, half a smile on your lips to cover the nervous energy prickling at the base of your spine.

Logan didn’t smile back. “Nothing,” he replied, voice rough. But his gaze softened, just barely, and there was a glimmer of something warm. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

His words were casual, but you caught the faintest edge of something… familiar. Like a memory you couldn’t quite touch. You felt your fingers twitch, the familiar itch to pull time in around you, but you held back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear as you tried to shake off the strange feeling. “Thanks for asking.”

Logan nodded, but his gaze didn’t waver. He watched you for a beat longer, almost as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it—or maybe he did but decided not to say. Instead, he moved forward to Ororo, where her and Scott were trying to power the engines.

“What’s wrong?” Logan questioned.

“Vertical thrusters are offline.” Scott answered.

“So fix ’em.”

“I’m trying.”

“Hey, has anyone seen John?” Rogue called out.

“Pyro?” Logan asked. “Where the hell is he?”

“He’s with Magneto.” Jean replied.

“…but I don’t know how long they’re going to last.”

“I’m trying to override, but it’s not responding.” Scott grunted, “come on!”

“Oh, no, we’ve lost the power.” Ororo said.

“It’s coming. Come on!”

“There’s power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

“Jean,” you whispered under your breath, too scared to act, fearing what would happen if you intervened. Instead, you watched as she walked down the ramp of the jet, glancing at the group one last time.

Charles tilted his head slightly to the side, “Jean?”

“Wait, where’s Jean?” Logan asked.

“She’s outside.” Charles said.

Scott bolted up from his seat to the ramp, but it closed as he got there, separating Jean from the rest of them. The consoles lit up as the engines came back online.

“No! We’re not leaving! Lower the ramp! Storm, lower it!” Scott yelled.

“I can’t!” She replied.

The water finally washed over to them, but because of Jean and her telekinesis it went around her.

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly-

“-power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

As Jean walked toward the ramp, you reached out and grabbed her forearm, halting her determined steps. Her head turned, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, her eyes softened. There was a weariness, a resignation in her look that you couldn’t ignore.

“Jean,” you whispered, tightening your grip. “There has to be another way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, staring into the distance. The ramp was only steps away, but she hadn’t pulled her arm free. “It’s the only way to save everyone,” she said, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder would shatter whatever resolve she had left.

“I’m not gonna let you die,” you spoke quietly.

Jean tilted her head, looking at the cockpit one more time before back at you, “you rewound. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t tried to pull away, and you could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through your grip on her arm. She knew. Somehow, she’d pieced it together—how you’d rewound, maybe even more than once.

“Yes,” you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the jet, “but this time—”

“This time won’t be any different,” Jean cut in, a trace of regret in her tone. “Some things… you can’t just rewind.”

You tightened your grip, not willing to let go. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it has to end like this.”

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you couldn’t bear. “You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re a team, Jean. You can power on the jet, and I can pause the water.”

She looked away, clearly weighing every word you said against her own grim resolve, then back at you with a look of resigned understanding. "You don’t understand, Y/N. This—" she gestured to the waters crashing around them, then down to her own chest, her hand resting over her heart—"what’s happening to me... it’s too much. It’s a flood I can’t hold back.”

You could feel her pulse, still wild beneath your hand, and the memory of her last words echoed in your mind. "You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

But she wasn’t gone, not yet, and the desperation that rose inside you felt like a fight against fate itself. “Jean, I’ve seen things go wrong before.” The words slipped out, the ghost of a memory that you couldn’t quite catch. “But I can feel it this time… we don’t have to lose you. Just trust me.”

For a moment, Jean’s gaze softened, and her grip on her resolve wavered. “Y/N…” she started, and you caught a glimmer of something in her eyes—gratitude, or maybe even hope. Her hand rested lightly over yours, though you could feel her power humming beneath her skin. “Alright,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “But if something goes wrong… if it’s too much…”

You cut her off, squeezing her hand tighter. “Then we find another way. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

With a quick nod from Jean, you focused your energy, feeling time ripple and bend beneath your skin. Jean closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she took in the extra moments you’d gifted her, enough to gather her power without tearing herself apart in the process.

Outside the jet, the water slowed, hovering just a few inches away from the plane, frozen in time. Everyone held their breath, the hum of the jet's engines amplified in the stillness. Scott turned back to the controls, guiding the jet forward through the suspended water. “It’s working,” he murmured, almost to himself. "We’re moving.”

In the cockpit, you felt your pulse race as you held the time bubble steady, feeling the strain build in your bones. This level of control was more intense than anything you’d managed before, but you pushed yourself to hold on, the determination to keep Jean and everyone safe steeling your resolve.

The jet jolted slightly as it broke through the edge of the water and rose higher, out of immediate danger. But the strain was starting to build, the sheer amount of energy it took to hold everything at bay beginning to wear on you. Your hand slipped, and you nearly stumbled, but before you could lose your focus entirely, a strong hand caught your arm.

Logan was at your side, his face mere inches from yours, concern laced in his voice. “You good?” he asked, his grip grounding you.

“Yeah… just give me a sec.” You took a breath, focusing on the feel of his hand, the warmth in his touch that felt familiar in a way you couldn’t explain. With that small, grounding connection, you found the strength to hold the time bubble for a few seconds more.

When the jet was finally clear, you released the grip on time, and the rush of water resumed its course beneath them. You staggered slightly, feeling a rush of exhaustion course through you, but Logan’s arm was still steady around you, even as you fell to the ground, your eyes fluttering shut.

Logan’s grip tightened as you slumped back, your breath shuddering as exhaustion swept over you. His hand was warm, rough fingers gently brushing against your cheek, bringing you back just enough to the moment. Your back was draped over his knees, your pulse still racing as you struggled to catch your breath. The world was a muted blur, but his voice broke through, steady and low, anchoring you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your cheek. “You’re alright. I got you.”

It was only his words, and the softness in them, that made you blink back the haze of exhaustion. As your vision cleared, you saw his face just inches from yours, an intensity in his gaze that seemed to search for something… something deeper than he was saying.

“Logan,” you whispered, not sure why his name slipped out so easily or why it felt so familiar, as if you’d said it before, in another life or another time. But the look he gave you held a weight you couldn’t name, a history you couldn’t remember.

“You with me?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, but beneath it, there was something else, something almost pleading. He waited as you blinked up at him, your pulse slowly settling, tethered by his touch. “Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You tried to push yourself up, but the strain of holding time around the jet had left your muscles aching, feeling drained in a way you’d never experienced before. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, steadying you, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling his warmth.

His face softened, a flicker of relief crossing his expression, though he didn’t let go. “You pulled us out of that mess,” he said, his voice low, and for a second, something raw flickered in his eyes. “What were you thinking? Freezing the water like that—it could’ve knocked you out cold.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t just watch Jean go.” You inhaled deeply, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced toward the cockpit, where Jean’s quiet breathing filled the jet with a fragile peace. “I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Logan gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. You felt the intensity of his gaze, as if he was seeing something beyond what you could understand. There was a warmth to it, one that made your heart stutter, something deep and unexplainably familiar. He paused, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You’ve always been this way… haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, thrown by the hint of something personal, something he couldn’t quite put into words. He dropped his hand from your face, settling it on your shoulder, but you could still feel the warmth lingering where he’d touched you.

“Never mind.” He looked away, his expression unreadable. But his hand remained steady on your shoulder, grounding you as the jet finally stabilized, the engines humming to life. You could hear the others bustling around, but for this moment, it was just the two of you, a silent understanding hovering between you.

“Logan…?” you started, not sure what you wanted to say or why his presence felt so deeply familiar. He turned back, a question in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something. But the words wouldn’t come. How could you ask him about a feeling you didn’t understand? About a memory that didn’t exist?

Instead, you exhaled, letting the silence fill the space between you. “Thank you.”

He watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say. But he only nodded, a soft look crossing his face, one that felt almost like longing.

“Anytime,” he murmured, his hand finally slipping away, leaving a chill in its place.

“Y/N, you good back there?” Ororo’s voice broke the spell, and you managed a nod, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah. Just… catching my breath.” You gave her a small smile, forcing your muscles to relax, even as your heart was still pounding. Logan stood, his gaze lingering on you for a beat before he moved to check on the others. But before he left, he looked back at you, his eyes holding a silent promise, a feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was still there, still watching over you.

---

A storm crackled outside thanks to Ororo and everyone around the group was frozen in time courtesy of you.

“Good morning, Mr. President.” Charles said. The President looked over to the side where Kurt was crouched on a small table. He began to stand up slowly, “please, don’t be alarmed. We’re not going to harm anyone.”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re mutants. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Rogue.” Charles briefly glanced over at her, as she placed a large file onto the President’s desk. “These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker.”

The President started to flip through the file, “how did you get this?”

“Well, let’s just say I know a little girl who can walk through walls.” Charles said, as the President looked over at Kurt who let out a quiet snicker. He finally sat back down.

“I’ve never seen this information.”

“I know.”

“Then you also know I don’t respond well to threats.”

“Mr. President, this is not a threat, this is an opportunity. There are forces in this world, both mutant and human alike, who believe that a war is coming. You’ll see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties. Losses on both sides. Mr. President, what you are about to tell the world is true. This is a moment. A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future. We’re here to stay, Mr. President. The next move is yours.”

“We’ll be watching,” Logan said.

logan is around 171 years old (but at this point in the story, he doesn't really know how old he is so it's kinda irrelevant now) and reader is around 26 years old

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

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covenofagatha · 17 hours ago

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Okay hear me out Agatha x Reader age gap fic. The reader and Agatha have been together for awhile I was thinking like she used to be your college professor before you graduated, The reader has a monthly night out scheduled with friends from school but Agatha like usual declines in your offer to join you all. Agatha just doesn’t have interest in the “young people bars” and hanging out with old students is strange to her, though it’s a little upsetting you don’t push too much before relenting and going on your way. A little bit into the night despite your efforts in avoiding said persons advances you’re being continuously hit on by either a stranger in the bar or a friend from the group that is your choice! But the resolve would be Agatha showing up cause she felt guilty about always declining, her witnessing and then defusing the situation (jealously obviously). I absolutely love possessive Agatha and love everything you’ve written so far! Whether it ends in smut is also completely up to you!!!

Hope you enjoy and thank you for the very detailed request!! This will be a two-parter and the next part will be based on a request I got about jealous reader x Professor Agatha.

A lesson in jealousy (Part 1)

Agatha gets jealous when she finds you at a bar and a guy is already talking to you.

Word count: 2100

Tags: marking, jealousy, making out, slight thigh grinding

“I was thinking of ordering pizza for tonight?” Agatha muses, already looking at you when you turn your head to face her.

You’re sitting on the couch in her office, nose buried in a book for one of your other classes. Agatha was your professor two years ago and there had been a spark, at least on your end, so you had kept in touch.

It wasn’t until a year ago when you had bridged the gap between a professional relationship and something more when you had kissed her one night after getting drinks at a bar across town.

You had immediately pulled back, apologizing incessantly, but much to your surprise, she had dragged you back in for more.

That night was the first of many that you spent in her bed.

Although she was no longer your teacher, you still attended the college that she worked at, so there was a bit of a gray area. Meaning, you two had to keep it under wraps.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, finally answering Agatha’s question. “I’m going out with my friends tonight. It’s our monthly bar trivia thing that we always do. I think I told you.” She hums and you frown. “What?”

Agatha shrugs. “Seems like we haven’t had a quiet night in awhile, that’s all.”

“You could always come tonight,” you offer hopefully. Her nose wrinkles and she raises an eyebrow and you know why she’s being like this. “You could just happen to show up and I’ll just happen to see you and I’ll invite you to join our team. It’ll be fun!”

And yet you know her answer before she even says it. “That’s not really my scene, baby.” You pout and slouch down further into the couch. She has never once taken you up on an invitation, even though you practically beg her every time. She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. It’s an old game for both of you. “Come on, hon, you know I have no interest in going to a bar with a bunch of college kids on a Friday night where everyone will be drinking and making noise and I taught most of your friends. I just think that it will be weird.”

A flash of anger bubbles up to protect you from the hurt you feel deep down. Would it kill her to do something for you? “I’m also a college kid who will be out drinking and ‘making noise’ and you were my professor two years ago. Is that weird?”

She sighs heavily and pushes her chair back, patting her thighs. She wants you to come over, but you grit your teeth and don’t give in. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant, obviously. Just spending my Friday evening with a bunch of college kids isn’t what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

You stand up, shoving your books and laptop in your bag and Agatha scoffs and says your name. You meet her eyes, disappointment written all over your face. It kills you to show her how much her rejection hurts, but you’re tired of it.

“Come here, please,” she says softly. You grumble but obey. You slide off your backpack and sit on her laps, tensely putting your arms around her neck. Despite how mad you are, you still fiddle with her strands on her nape that aren’t in her bun. She leans in to kiss your lips but you don’t let it go any further than a press of her mouth against yours. You won’t give in that easily.

“You never come,” you whine.

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. I just worry it might be risky for us to be seen out in public like that. Why don’t you come over after and we can have a movie night or something? I’ll take you to a bar tomorrow night, I promise. Just the two of us.”

You can see there’s no use trying to fight her on this. No matter what you say, she won’t come with you and you’d rather not have to open up and tell her how you want to just spend a night with the most important people in your life: Agatha and your best friends. You also feel a little insecure about being so young. She is over twice your age and you worry that sometimes you aren’t enough for her, or that she thinks you’re too immature. “Okay,” you say, voice small.

She squeezes your waist and gives you another peck. “That’s my girl. Don’t come over too late and I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks and you force a smile and climb off her lap.

“I’ll see you later, Agatha.”

“Hon, you don’t have to leave right now,” she calls but you’re already walking to the door. You wave a hand as a goodbye and you moodily walk back to your dorm.

You sulk the rest of the day and debate whether or not you even want to go out to the bar, but ultimately decide that you deserve it. You don’t need Agatha to have a good time, as much as you’d like her.

“There she is! It’s been awhile!” Natasha exclaims when you get to their table and claps a hand on your back. You wince but pull her in for a hug. You’ve been swamped with homework and when you do have free time, it’s spent with Agatha, so you have barely seen your friends in the past month.

“Sorry, I’ve been so busy,” you mumble while greeting Wanda and Maria, also at the table.

“First round is on you for neglecting us!” Wanda says and you laugh and happily go to the bar to order beers for the group.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks when you finally make your way through the crowd.

“Four Pilsners, please,” you almost have to shout. Someone next to you bumps into you roughly and you jump.

“Oh shit, sorry.” A guy about your age turns around, with shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. Something about his features is so familiar.

“You’re good,” you say. “Do I know you?”

He stares intently at your face, trying to place you. He snaps his fingers. “Professor Harkness’s class, freshman year. Something about witchcraft. I sat in the row in front you. You were like the only one who actually knew what they were talking about. I think you were her favorite by a long shot.”

You blush at hearing that someone else picked up on Agatha liking you. “I don’t know if I’d say that,” you say coyly, smiling a little at the thought of the older woman.

“I’m James. So, uh,” the boy says, sliding a hand nonchalantly around your waist. You freeze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at a bar?”

“I’m not alone,” you quickly say, stepping back so his hand falls off, and you point to the table with your friends. “We’re here for trivia night.”

His face lights up and he motions toward a different table with a group of guys. “We are too, but they all suck. Can I join your team?”

“Um-” You’re trying to figure out how to let him down gently when the bartender puts down the four beers in front of you. You reach for your wallet but James slaps a $20 on the counter.

“I got it,” he says proudly and then before you can protest, he grabs two of the beers and you follow with the other drinks, dumbfounded, as he walks over to your table. Your friends give you quizzical looks but you just shrug tiredly. You can’t find it in yourself to care that much right now.

The host of the trivia game comes around to each table and hands out the paper for answers and a pen. He asks the first question: when is Taylor Swift’s birthday.

You immediately say the answer and James pats his hand on your shoulder but it turns into more of a rub. Your eyes widen and your friends bite back a smile.

“I’m actually seeing someone,” you say and take his hand off of you. Your friends look even more surprised than he does. Even though you’ve been dating Agatha for close to a year now, you’ve been really secretive and change the topic whenever your love life comes up with them.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he says, raising his arms like he’s trying to show you that he’s harmless. He moves to touch you again but a hand darts out and grabs his wrist. You turn and your jaw falls open.

It’s Agatha, and she is positively fuming.

“I think she said she’s taken,” she growls and James backs off.

“Professor Harkness,” he stutters. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, we were just having a good time.” He turns to you, eyes pleading. It’s almost funny how scary he still finds the older woman. “Tell her, we were just talking.”

You wish he had said anything but that. Agatha whirls onto you. “Were you?” She hisses and you gulp. She scoffs as you protest and storms out of the bar.

Ignoring the looks from your friends, you chase after her down the alleyway.

“Agatha, wait,” you yell. “He kept hitting on me and I was trying to let him down gently but he kept trying. I told him that I was with someone else! I’m sorry.”

She spins on her heel and advances toward you. You stop like a deer in headlights and she shoves you against the brick wall before you can think. Her hands grab your wrists and pin them to the wall. You struggle futilely.

“Is this your pathetic attempt of getting back at me?” You furrow your brows in confusion and she laughs sardonically. “I was feeling so guilty earlier. You looked so sad when I didn’t want to come and I thought that maybe I could try, for you. I always say no and what a nice surprise it would be for my girlfriend if I showed up. And then what do I find? My pet is flirting with someone else. Not just someone, a sleazy college boy who would probably cum after two pumps because he’s so incompetent.” She’s snarling, her face an inch away from yours, and you hate how turned on you are.

You’ve always liked it when she got possessive over you.

“I didn’t want him,” you say levelly. “I only want you.”

She huffs like it’s a joke. “Sure you don’t want the college fuckboy? Or any of the other people in the bar? They’d never hesitate to join you for trivia night.”

And then it hits you. She’s jealous because she’s insecure. She also worries about the age difference.

Your heart swells and you break free of her grasp to grab her cheeks and pull her in for a long and filthy kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue swipes against yours and she fits a thigh between your legs.

“I’m all yours, Agatha,” you groan when she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes flash.

“You better be,” she warns and entangles her fingers in your hair so she can tilt your head to the side and sink a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your hips buck on her thigh and you gasp when she sucks roughly. She trails up your neck, doing the same thing over and over, and you’re quickly reduced to a moaning, desperate mess.

Her other hand trails down to hold onto your hip, just feeling you shakily grind against her, trying to get some relief.

“Should I go back inside and get James to come out and watch this?” She asks against your skin, still marking you up. “So he knows what happens when he touches things that aren’t his?”

You inhale sharply at the thought and wish that she would just drag you back inside and fuck you right there on the table in front of everyone.

“Please,” you beg. She actually giggles and pulls back to admire her handiwork on your neck. She lightly traces over the marks and you shiver under her touch and intense gaze.

Agatha smirks when she meets your eyes again. “That should let everyone know who you belong to. And you, in case you need the reminder.”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Maybe I could use a refresher. Why don’t you show me who owns me?”

Her eyes darken even more as she pulls you back in for a searing kiss that she ends too quickly.

She yanks her thigh from out between yours and grabs your hand, dragging you to the car.

“Oh, I’m going to, baby.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha all along

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daisymbin · 23 hours ago

Note

45. "you really trust me with your secrets, huh?"

y/n drunkenly confesses to Chan after a night out with their friends

!!! thank you for requesting 🫶

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

fluff prompt #45: "you really trust me with your secrets, huh?"

you’re tipsy, wobbling slightly as chan steadies you with a hand on your shoulder. the others had scattered after your group night out, and somehow, the task of walking you home fell to him. not that he minded.

“you don’t have to do this,” you say, words slightly slurred but still sweet. “i can walk home myself.”

“you could barely walk down the stairs without holding onto me,” he teases, a grin tugging at his lips. “what kind of friend would i be if i just left you?”

“a bad one,” you reply immediately, leaning into him like you already trust him more than anything.

the quiet buzz of the city fills the space between you two, and chan keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. your cheeks are flushed, whether from the alcohol or the cool night air, and you’re humming a little tune he doesn’t recognize.

“what are you humming?” he asks, mostly just to keep you talking.

“something you’d like,” you reply cryptically, then giggle like you’ve said something funny.

chan shakes his head, amused but also hyper-aware of how close you are to him, how your warmth is seeping into his side. he’s spent plenty of nights like this with you, but something feels different. maybe it’s the way you’re looking at him, all soft and unguarded.

“you’re quiet tonight,” you say suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look up at him.

“am i?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

you nod. “you usually talk more. always making me laugh. i like that about you, you know.”

chan feels his heart do a little flip at your words. he brushes it off with a laugh, trying to keep things light. “guess i’m just tired from carrying everyone’s drinks tonight.”

you narrow your eyes at him like you don’t quite believe him but let it go, resuming your unsteady steps.

“can i tell you a secret?” you ask after a moment, your voice quieter now.

chan glances at you, his brows furrowing. “a secret? is this something i’ll have to take to the grave?”

“maybe,” you say, and there’s a teasing edge to your tone, but your expression is serious.

“go for it,” he says, his curiosity piqued.

you stop walking again and turn to face him, your gaze locked on his like you’re trying to decide something. chan feels his chest tighten under the intensity of it.

“i like you, chan,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “like… really like you. a lot.”

chan blinks, completely frozen as he processes your words. you’re still looking at him, vulnerable and unsure, and it hits him all at once—this isn’t a joke, and it’s definitely not just the alcohol talking.

“you… really trust me with your secrets, huh?” he says finally, his voice coming out softer than he intended.

you nod, looking down at your feet. “you’re the only one i’d want to tell.”

chan doesn’t know what to say. his heart is pounding, and his head is spinning, but not in the way he’d expect. because somehow, despite the shock, it feels… right.

“hey,” he says, stepping closer to you. you look up, your eyes wide and a little glassy.

“if this is some kind of drunken mistake—”

“it’s not,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “i’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but i was too scared. it just… it feels easier now. maybe its the drinks.”

chan feels his lips curve into a smile, his heart swelling with something he can only describe as pure happiness.

“you really like me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nod again, your cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

chan doesn’t think—he just reacts, pulling you into a gentle hug. you tense for a moment before melting against him, your arms wrapping around his waist.

you pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes searching his face like you’re trying to make sure he’s serious.

“is it okay if i continue to like you?”

“only if-,” he pauses, laughing softly, “only if its okay for me to continue liking you too.”

you smile then, and it’s the kind of smile that makes him think he’d do anything to see it again.

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the-fiction-witch · 2 days ago

Text

What Happened At Driftmark P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen (Teen) Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n (Princess) Rating - 18+ fingering/ eating out/ nudity/ pinv/ raw sex/ spanking/ squirting/ cockwarming Word Count - 1473

Requested -

bridgertonbee1814 asked : I would love to see a part two of this❤️😄

Warning - Teen Smut / Neice x Uncle

Aegon assaulted her neck with kisses, ripping her underdress to shreds, as he forced her down on the bed. His hands grabbed her breasts squeezing them and groping them with busy hands. He was more forceful than he needed to be but he was beyond caring. He kissed down her neck leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. “Has any man touched you before little Neice?”

“No, my prince,” she admitted,

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Hummm… well then,” he growled, as moved his fingers to capture her nipples until they perked up pinching on them between his fingers and thumb. Tugging on them hard to force a moan from her lips before giving them a good hard twist which made her rub her legs together in this newfound excitement.

“My Prince!” She moaned arching her back,

He pulled back biting his lip hard before he kissed down her neck and chest before he nipped and sucked at her nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth.

“Ahh!” She moaned in pleasure her eyes rolling back,

“Ummm, such a desperate little thing aren’t you Y/n.” He barked, his eyes flicking down her body. He growled approvingly at the sight of her bare pussy. Kissing his way down her stomach, he spread her legs wide and brought his hand to her lips, “lick them for me,”

She obeyed taking his fingers into her mouth, licking softly on his index and middle finger,

Aegon cooed and praised her as she did, moving his fingers back and forth between her teeth and rubbing his fingertips against her tongue, “Suck.” He ordered,

Y/n did as he asked her eyes fluttering shut as she sucked on his fingers,

“Don’t stop.” he growled his other hand holding her jaw to allow his fingers to move faster and harder before he cursed and pulled out his soaked fingers, slipping them down to stroke her labia,

“Aegon!” she moaned her hips bucking up to his hand,

“Hummm…such a pretty little cunt.” he smirked rubbing her clit a little,

“Uuhhh uuuuughhhh!” She whined throwing her head back,

“Lets just see how… ooohh fuck-” He cursed as he slipped a finger inside finding her warm, soaked and throbbing for him, clenching down hard on his finger the moment it was inside, “Ohh you are just so desperate aren’t you,” He groaned, “Don’t worry little niece… I won’t keep this aching cunt waiting.” he whispered before burying his face between her thighs. His tongue flicked out, circling her clit before delving into her folds. He moaned in delight at how she tasted, lapping hungrily at her nectar.

“My prince!” She screamed her hips rubbing against his face,

Aegon continued his ministrations, flicking his tongue rapidly over her clit his hand coming down to thrust two fingers deep inside her dripping heat. He pumped them in and out, curling them to hit that perfect spot that made her cry out and buck her hips. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good,” he growled against her. “I could eat this sweet little cunt all day.”

She was writhing and moaning beneath him now, lost in ecstasy. Aegon could feel her inner walls clamping down on his fingers as she approached her peak. He quickened his pace, wanting to push her over the edge. "Mercy! Mercy My prince!" she begged, “I’ve never.”

“I know… I’ll give you your first, and you’ll beg me for more the rest of our lives.” He smirked,

“Please! Aegon!”

Aegon ignored her pleas, He pumped his fingers faster, curling them deeper inside her. His tongue worked on her clit, sucking and flicking until she thought she would explode. “Come for me, my sweet little niece,” he demanded roughly between licks. “You know you want to.”

His words broke her. The pressure inside her reached a breaking point and with a scream, she tumbled over the edge. Y/n screamed her back arching off the bed and squirting hard all over his face and bed, as this new feeling of pleasure flooded her for the very first time, Her pussy clamped down hard on Aegon's fingers as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over her. "Aegon… my prince I…" she gasped,

"Humm did you like that?" he barked,

"Y-Yes… More… please…"

Aegon grinned wickedly as he licked her squirt from his lips sitting up to stare down at the mess of a princess he had left behind, “More?”

“Yes please Aegon,”

“I told you, you would.” he growled leaning down to kiss her,

She could taste her own sweetness on his lips and tongue as he invaded her mouth possessively.

Breaking the kiss, Aegon grabbed her waist and flipped her onto her hands and knees. He positioned himself behind her, running a hand over her ass. He gave one cheek a hard slap, watching it redden under his touch. “This what you want Y/n?” he demanded gruffly. “You know you want it.”

She nodded, too far gone in lust and submission to deny him anything.

Aegon moved slowly rubbing himself along her slit to coat his cock in her juices, before he pressed up against her cunt slipping slowly inside inch by inch,

Y/n screamed and moaned her eyes rolling back as he made his way deeper and deeper into her, feeling full and warm with him inside her.

Aegon groaned as he felt her tight heat clamping down on his cock. He was buried to the hilt inside her “Fuck,” he growled out. “You feel so damn good,” He pulled back slowly, savouring the sensation of her gripping him like a vice. Then he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one deep stroke.

Y/n cried out as Aegon took her maidenhead, stealing it for himself.

Aegon threw his head back, a roar of pleasure escaping his lips as she sheathed his cock. Before he lost any sence of control he had and he began to fucked her hard, without mercy a slave to his pleasure and lust, as much as he had made her one to the pleasure he supplied.

“Y-yes… plea-” Y/n's words were cut off by a cry of pure ecstasy as he pounded into her.

Aegon reached around her hips, finding her clit with his thumb. He rubbed hard circles on the sensitive nub as he continued, “Cum for me again,” he demanded gruffly, speeding up his thrusts. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

Y/n threw her head back, a keening wail escaping her lips as she obeyed his command. Her pussy clamped down on his cock like a vice, milking him of his seed.

Aegon's thrusts turned frantic, his grunts of pleasure filling the room. “Fuck,” he groaned out, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He spurted deep inside her, filling her with his seed.

"Aegon… aegon… my prince…" Y/n gasped unable to move anymore then collapsed down on her stomach,

Aegon collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving with exertion. Before he held her hips tipping them both to lay on their sides, with his cock still inside her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, spooning her from behind as he stroked her hair gently. “Shhh,” he murmured softly, nuzzling against her neck. “…gods… Y/n…”

“Aegon?”

“Umm? Did you enjoy yourself Y/n?”

“Very very much,” she smiled, “But…”

“But?”

“But… we can’t ever do it again. What if our family found out.”

“I know,” he cursed, “stupid family.” He sighed, “But I don’t care what they say, they can’t keep us apart forever. One day I’ll be king, and I’ll make you my pretty little queen.”

“My mother will be queen.” She corrects him,

“Well then… you’ll be princess and heir to the throne. So one day You’ll be queen and I’ll be your handsome king.” he cooed, “But until then I will ride out on Sunfyre whenever I get the chance and you and I can can fly off somewhere secret and snug to fuck to our hearts content.”

“You mean it?”

“Would that make you happy my darling?”

“It would,” she blushed,

“Then I swear it by the old gods and the new.” he cooed kissing her cheek, “Come on, we should get back before we’re missed.” he smiled, “Ughhh fucking… ummm you hold on to me so tight,” He groaned having to use some decent force to pull out,

“Because I don’t want you to go,”

“Ohh believe me Y/n I wouldn’t go if we didn't have to.” He smirked leaning down to kiss her, “Perhaps I’ll redesign my saddle, just so I can have you sat on my lap with my cock inside your cunt the whole flight or the throne so when I’m - when one of us rules, we can sit and snuggle up inside you.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’d love that.” He smirked, “Come on before they kill us.” he laughed getting up to grab his clothes,

“My Prince?” she cooed,

Aegon turned back and Y/n was pouting purposely opening her legs for him, “yeah?”

“Mhm,”

“…Five more minuets.” he smirked jumping back into bed with her,

134 notes · View notes

purgeindeath · 3 days ago

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I didn’t say vi didn’t matter to her, i asked why her happiness matters when the entire crux of the s1 finale is jinx leaving vi behind. how do we see jinx’s life coming back to her? because she plays a game with isha and says to her that she made things clear, despite isha having no personality? I understand what isha was meant to do in the story, they kinda hit you over the head with it. But how am i supposed to believe that isha made jinx empathetic and loving again when i don’t know anything about her? you cannot seriously tell me you felt anything when that bland little girl died. they made her bland so you WOULDNT feel anything.

‘actions speak louder than words’ what were the actions?

bruh the problem i have with jinx isn’t even her redemption arc it’s the rushed ass way they did it, and the way she’s a completely different character from s1 despite the s1 finale being her accepting that she’s a ‘jinx’

also dear god give me a break on the media literacy. i don’t need to be a genius to understand marvel level writing, I’ll stick to actually good complex shows thanks 🫶

you’re also still avoiding the point of jinx saying that she didn’t know caitlyn’s mother was in there, when we all know she wouldn’t of given a single fuck if she was. the writers were retroactively changing jinx’s empathy in season 1, they weren’t saying that she changed, they were saying she was always like this. read my follow up post ab the point of s1 jinx, and you’ll understand why i don’t like them making her so much more palatable to caitlyn and the audience.

arcane pretending like jinx would’ve given a fuck about caitlyn’s mother is the funniest thing so far in the season. there’s an entire scene in s1 dedicated to vi realising her sister is a stone cold murderer + she HATES caitlyn

195 notes · View notes

melancholy-of-nadia · 1 day ago

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heart on the window #1 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You lost your job, got cheated on by your boyfriend, and had to give up your home—all in the span of a few weeks. Life hasn’t been kind lately, and just when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, your mom suggests an unexpected solution: move in with Seokjin, her friend’s son, who you vaguely remember as your annoying childhood rival. You haven't talked to him in like 15 YEARS. But begrudgingly, you agree, hoping for this to be a temporary fix, only to find yourself in a more complicated situation when you discover Seokjin has some dirty little secrets. As you attempt to rebuild your life under his roof, tensions rise, boundaries blur, and you’re forced to confront not only your messy circumstances but also your growing fascination with the man you thought you once knew. note: i actually didn't plan to drop something so soon post me starting my new job, but i had this mostly done but had to edit it up a bit. i've been debating to write a roommate au but couldn't decide which member, until i read @daegudrama's moon over flowers fic where jin is a "content creator" ;) also that jin dating simulator game that released yesterday was a perfect combo to add this with warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, stressed out reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, jin being jin, jin's college frat buddy! namjoon cameo, drinking, implied sexual fantasizing, implied adult content live streaming (camwork), very descriptive solo mast*rbation, voyeurism, dirty talk drop date: November 28th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 7.9k crossposted on ao3 here

–

This is the state of affairs of your life at the moment. 1. Your boyfriend cheated on you. 2. You lost your job (not your fault) 3. Andddd now you have nowhere to live.

Well… it’s not that you don’t have a place to live, but you don’t want to crawl back to your parents' home after making a very big declaration when you were 18 that you would not be coming back to live there.

Now in your mid 20s (that are slowly creeping into your late 20s), you regret being that loud mouth girl that didn’t understand a damn thing at that age.

You should’ve been smarter about your decisions, starting with your taste in men. You should’ve listened to your friends warnings about Mingi.

You’re on the phone listening to your mom scolding you over your stupidity and lack of preparedness. You roll your eyes as you continue packing your items into boxes. She suggests you coming home, just as you figured she’d do, but you tell her that you feel bad about coming back at your big old age. “Then why don’t you live with Sunghee’s son?”

Who the fuck is Sunghee? “Who?”

“You don’t remember? The mother of the Korean boy you went to school with in elementary school?” You have no clue who she’s talking about. This is something that happened like 15 to 20 years ago. You can’t believe she remembers something so obscure. “I still don’t have a clue.”

“Agh, i’ll go search through some of your old elementary school photos and send you the photo of him later.” You hear some shuffling on her end, probably guessing she decided to get up and go look at your old photographs in the living room shelves.” But I recently saw his mom at a coffee shop! And she told me her son was living in the same city as you and was looking for a roommate. I mentioned that you were in some situation where you might need to move soon and she gave me her and her son’s contact info.”

“I see.”

“Oh wait, hold on, I found it.”

You hear her snap a photo and within a few seconds, you see the notification on your phone peep behind the call. You click on it and when you open the message, the memories of long ago have finally clicked.

“SEOKJIN?! That weird Korean kid?!”

“Weird kid?! You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

You scoff, “Barely, I mean, he and I were always at each other's necks because he always tried to one-up me in any way that he could.” Recalling those annoying memories from that era was making you get upset all over again. If it wasn’t him completing the times table tests at a faster speed than you, it was him showing off the Pokemon cards that you didn’t have. If it wasn’t that, it was him showing off his level and ranking in Maple Story. That damn nerd.

It’s been years, but the thought of it still urks you.

She sighs, “Well, if you’re willing to look past that at your big old age, this is probably the best option you have.”

Could you do that? Maybe. But knowing how he was back then, he’s probably grown to become some loser virgin shut-in with no life. Maybe he’s a tech bro, which would make this even worse now.

“I think about it, but this is probably the last resort option I’d even consider––”

Your mom cuts you off with a sharp sigh. "Fine, suit yourself. But you don’t have many options, do you? Just call him. He might have changed!"

You don’t answer her right away because the idea of calling Seokjin still doesn’t sit well with you. You’re stubborn, yes, but the universe has also served you a big slice of humble pie lately. It’s probably time to stop holding on to petty grudges from a childhood you barely even remember.

"Okay, okay, I’ll think about it," you mumble reluctantly.

The call ends after a few more half-hearted lectures from your mom about responsibility, and you toss your phone onto the bed, glaring at the contact info she forwarded. You can’t help but click on Seokjin’s number. There’s a photo of him attached to the contact, and for a moment, you don’t recognize him at all.

He’s…hot.

You blink. This cannot be the same kid you argued with over best MapleStory boss (Seokjin opting for Pink Bean, while you said Guardian Angel Slime). The Seokjin in this picture has flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, and full lips curled in a smirk that screams confidence. His hair is styled perfectly, and his outfit—a crisp button-up and a fitted blazer—makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

"No way," you mutter under your breath.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself typing his name into Instagram. It doesn’t take long to find his profile because he has mutual followers and a blue checkmark.

Huh? Why a blue checkmark?

…he has 200,000 followers?

Scrolling through his posts, you see screenshots of video games, clips of intense gameplay, and the occasional selfie with gaming equipment in the background. His captions are filled with gaming slang and memes you barely understand, but the sheer number of likes and comments on every post is undeniable.

One clip catches your eye—a short highlight from a League of Legends game where he pulls off an impressive play, and the comments are flooded with people hyping him up. “JinGod strikes again,” one comment reads. Another says, “Of course he’s the best mid-laner NA. Who else?”

Curious, you dive deeper and discover he has a Twitch account.

Oh! So he’s a streamer?!

Not just any streamer, either—he’s big enough to have sponsors and a massive following. His Twitch bio is straightforward:

Seokjin | Variety Streamer | Big laughs, bigger Ws | 1 PM KST

His stream schedule includes games like Elden Ring, Valorant, League of Legends, and even Getting Over It. There’s a link to his YouTube channel with clips of him absolutely demolishing opponents, mixed with funny moments of him raging at frustrating games.

You stare at your phone, trying to reconcile this version of Seokjin with the kid you used to fight over the last Uncrustables sandwich at lunch. This Seokjin is smooth, funny, and clearly thriving in a world you know nothing about. The comment section on his posts doesn’t help—it’s filled with people thirsting over his voice and his “handsome gamer vibes.”

“Great,” you mutter. “He grew up to be a famous nerd.”

You hate to admit it, but you’re impressed. And irritated.

Of course, Seokjin grew up to be that guy.

You put your phone down and stare at the pile of boxes scattered across your room. It’s not like you have a ton of other options, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the idea of moving in with Seokjin suddenly feels a lot less horrifying. Maybe he’s not the same insufferable kid you remember.

Or maybe he is, and this will be your worst nightmare.

Before you can chicken out, you force yourself to pick up your phone and dial the number your mom sent you. It rings twice before a deep, smooth voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this…Seokjin Kim?” you ask awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of how unprepared you are for this conversation.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s, um, [Y/N]. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“[Y/N]?” he interrupts, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “The same [Y/N] who used to cry every time I beat her at anything in elementary school? Of course I remember.”

There it is! The Seokjin you cared about so deeply.

“I did not cry!” You roll your eyes, grip on the phone tightening.

He laughs, a low, rich sound that’s somehow both infuriating and…nice. “Sure, you didn’t. So, what’s up? Why are you calling me after, what, fifteen…twenty years? Where did you even get my num–”

You take a deep breath, already regretting this.

“My mom said your mom said you’re looking for a roommate.”

There’s a pause, and then he says, “...I am. Why?"

"I need a place..."

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to hang up.

“Ah, well why do you need a roommate?” he asks finally, his tone careful, almost guarded. “I thought someone like you would have, I don’t know, a penthouse or something by now with the amazing corporate job my mom told me you have.”

Now this is going to suck to explain to him that whatever decent apartment you had earning a 72,000 salary at your old job is… nonexistent.

You blink at the assumption and quickly fumble for a response. “Haha, not quite. Most places are too expensive in this economy and I’m, uh, downsizing.”

“Downsizing?” he repeats, skepticism dripping from the word. “Why?”

“Because I want to focus on… minimalism.”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically hear him trying to decide whether to believe you.

Oh this was a terrible decision to make. Now he must think you’re a fool!

You glance around your room at the boxes piled with all the clutter you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away and wince. Minimalism is definitely not your thing.

“Minimalism,” he echoes, his tone still doubtful. “Right. Well, I do have an extra room, but I’m not sure you’ll like it here.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say I stay up late…,” he replies vaguely.

He must be referring to his streaming career that he isn’t telling you about right now. Wonder if he’s embarrassed by it.

“And I don’t really have time to deal with a high-maintenance roommate.”

The audacity! You did not ask to be attacked right now.

The jab makes your jaw tighten. “I’m not high-maintenance!”

“You sure? Last time I checked, you were the type to lose it over someone messing with your stuff.”

“That was elementary school! I’ve grown up since then.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound light but still noncommittal. “We’ll see. Come check the place out tomorrow. Noon okay?”

You pause, thrown by his sudden shift. So he’s actually down with you as a roommate? Let’s not get high hopes up now. And if that doesn’t work, you know what? That’s okay. You will find a way… you hope.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “And bring references.”

“References?!”

“You can never be too careful,” he replies smoothly, but there’s a faint edge in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“Fine,” you snap, already planning to forge something if necessary.

“Great. See you then.”

The call ends before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at your phone. Something about the conversation feels… off. You can’t tell if it’s his hesitance, the cryptic mention of odd hours, or the subtle curiosity in his tone when he asked about your situation.

Or maybe it could be that it’s been around 15 years since you last talked to him so this entire situation feels like a fever dream.

Whatever it is, you’ll find out tomorrow. One way or another.

The next day arrives quicker than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a massive gated complex that looks like it was ripped straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. The building towers above you, a blend of sleek modern design and Mediterranean touches. Creamy stucco walls, wrought-iron accents, and lush greenery climbing up the sides of the buildings make it feel more like an exclusive resort than an apartment complex.

The entrance is lined with tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the scent of freshly mowed grass mingles with the faint floral fragrance from meticulously arranged garden beds. A stone fountain, its water cascading in perfect tiers, sits in the middle of a circular driveway where luxury cars are parked like they belong in an auto show.

You glance down at your outfit, a simple pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and a blue collared sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“He’s living here?” you mutter under your breath, squinting at the address Seokjin sent you last night again to make sure you’re in the right place.

As you shift awkwardly with your bag slung over your shoulder, the wrought-iron gates buzz, and Seokjin steps through.

If the apartment complex wasn’t enough of a surprise, he certainly is.

Gone is the awkward kid from elementary school, and in his place is a man who seems perfectly at home in his expensive surroundings. Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and a pair of ripped jeans that look way too good on him, Seokjin walks toward you with an easy confidence. His dark hair is styled effortlessly, and even from a distance, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“[Y/N],” he calls out, his voice smooth and unmistakably amused.

You shift your bag again, suddenly hyper-aware of how you must look standing there in front of the grand gates. “Seokjin,” you reply, your voice coming out a little more clipped than you intended.

As he approaches, he looks you over, his smirk growing wider. “You’re on time. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because I’d be the last person you’d want to ask for help.”

“Desperate times,” you shoot back, ignoring the way his eyes glint in amusement.

Seokjin chuckles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if you can survive the tour first.”

He leads you through the gates, where a polished path lined with greenery opens into the main courtyard. The sound of water trickling from another fountain fills the air, and you catch glimpses of the complex’s amenities—an infinity pool that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, cabanas with flowing white curtains, and a fitness center with floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcasing state-of-the-art equipment.

“This place is ridiculous,” you say under your breath, craning your neck to take it all in.

Seokjin glances back, his smirk still in place. “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the inside.”

As you step into the lobby, you’re greeted by marble floors that gleam under the warm glow of chandeliers. The air smells faintly of citrus and something luxurious you can’t quite place, and the concierge greets Seokjin with a polite nod as he leads you to the elevator.

“You’re really living the dream here,” you say, unable to hide the note of disbelief in your voice.

He shrugs, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “With the jobs I have. it has its perks.”

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you catch a glimpse of the hallway—plush carpeting, modern art lining the walls, and soft lighting that makes everything feel impossibly serene.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping out and turning to look at you.

You hesitate for just a second before following him. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seokjin leads you down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. You’re still processing how this guy, the same kid who used to shove his Pokémon cards in your face, is living in a place so fancy it makes your last apartment look like a broom closet.

“This is my place,” he says, stopping in front of a sleek black door with a digital keypad instead of a regular lock.

He types in the code, the lock clicks open, and he pushes the door wide to reveal his apartment.

Your first thought is that it’s huge.

The open-concept living room stretches out before you, its floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light. The view outside is stunning—a panoramic sweep of the suburban city skyline and the sparkling blue ocean in the distance. Inside, the place is immaculate, every piece of furniture modern and deliberately chosen. The couch is a neutral gray sectional big enough to seat a small crowd, and there’s a massive TV mounted on the wall, flanked by minimalist shelves filled with what looks like expensive collectibles and gaming gear.

The kitchen is just as impressive, with marble countertops, a matching backsplash, and stainless steel appliances that gleam under the recessed lighting. A sleek island with barstools separates the kitchen from the living room, and you can’t help but wonder if this is where Seokjin spends his time making whatever expensive coffee you saw on his Instagram feed.

“Well?” he says, stepping inside and kicking off his sneakers near the door. “Don’t just stand there gawking.”

You snap your mouth shut and step in, slipping out of your shoes and placing them neatly next to his. The polished hardwood floors feel cool under your socks, and you hesitate, unsure where to stand.

“It’s… nice,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokjin chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Most people would be drooling right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he says, his grin widening. He crosses the room and gestures for you to follow. “Come on, let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He gestures toward the main living area, leading you down a short hallway on the left side of the apartment. “Your room would be down this hall,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You step into the guest room as he opens the door. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a tall, minimalist dresser tucked against one wall. A sleek desk sits by a large window, which offers a view of the glittering cityscape and the ocean beyond. The soft gray walls and warm lighting make the room feel both modern and inviting.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom,” Seokjin says, pushing open another door to reveal a compact but luxurious bathroom with marble finishes and a rainfall shower.

“This is… nice,” you admit, turning to glance at him.

“Only the best,” he replies with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “Your hall is completely separate from mine. My room’s on the right side of the apartment, so you won’t have to worry about me invading your space.”

He nods toward the opposite end of the living room, where another hallway extends. “My room’s down there on your left. I have a bathroom in front of it too. Oh. and you’d also have the laundry room and a storage closet near your side.”

You glance back at the main living area, noting the layout. His section of the apartment seems just as private, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved that you won’t be tripping over each other.

“It’s set up pretty well for roommates,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Glad you think so,” he replies, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This room used to belong to a friend of mine. He was here for an internship a little over a year ago, but he didn’t stay long. Left everything the way it is in case other friends needed a place to crash.”

“That makes sense,” you say, looking around the room again. “So why are you looking for a roommate now?”

Seokjin hesitates for just a second, his eyes flickering toward the window.

“Well, it would help with a couple of expenses,”

Your brow furrows. Expenses? You glance around the luxury apartment, mentally tallying the rent for a place like this. With what you know about Seokjin’s successful streaming career—and the office job your mom mentioned—he’s probably doing more than fine financially. But you decide not to press him on it.

Instead, you nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“And…” He trails off, his expression softening. Oh, so he is going to explain. “I don’t know, as I’m getting closer to thirty, I guess it might be nice to have someone around. Keeps things from feeling too…quiet.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you, and for a brief moment, you see a different side of him. One that’s not teasing or smug, but… a little lonely, maybe.

You nod again, this time more slowly. “Fair enough. This does happen as we age.”

Seokjin straightens, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual playful edge. “We can talk about me more later.”

He gestures for you to follow him back toward the living room.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk first?” he continues, his smirk fading slightly as his expression turns unreadable. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I let you move in.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

You follow him to the couch, your curiosity about his reasons for taking on a roommate still lingering in the back of your mind.

As you settle onto the couch, Seokjin sits across from you in a sleek armchair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. It’s like he’s studying you, trying to piece together the situation without asking directly.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward slightly, “I already know you lost your job.”

You freeze. The words hang in the air, and your stomach sinks.

“How do you know that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My mom told me earlier today. She’s the one who convinced me to even think about this arrangement.”

Heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Of course. Your mom couldn’t just leave you well enough alone so she told his mom.

“Oh,”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, likely noticing your discomfort. “Things happen, you know? Besides, knowing you, you probably have some savings tucked away to cover rent, right?”

His words hit harder than he probably intended. Sure, you’ve got a little money saved, but it’s dwindling fast. The thought of handing over any of it feels like admitting defeat, a glaring reminder that you’re not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life.

As Seokjin keeps talking, his tone casual and reassuring, his words blur into the background. You’re trapped in your own thoughts, spiraling.

How did it come to this?

Broke, jobless, and now sitting here asking for a place to live like some helpless kid. You remember being so confident, so sure of yourself when you left home. You went through grueling years of studying finance in college and graduating. Now you’re here, facing the reality that you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be.

It’s just so pathetic.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your hand.

Seokjin stops mid-sentence. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice cutting through your haze. “Are you… crying?”

You wipe at your face quickly, but it’s no use—the tears are falling faster now, and you’re too overwhelmed to stop them. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, mortified. “I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, his voice gentle in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you carefully. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, still swiping at your cheeks. “This is so stupid. I just… I hate being in this position. It’s not where I thought I’d be, and it’s just…” You trail off, your voice breaking.

For a moment, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. Then, he reaches for a tissue box on the coffee table and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says simply.

You take a tissue and dab at your face, trying to pull yourself together.

“I get it,” he says after a pause, his tone softer now. “Life doesn’t always go how we plan. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, okay? And if you need a place to figure things out, I’m offering you one. No strings, no judgment. But knowing how you’d feel bad for not paying back, just pitch in for some groceries or takeout every once in awhile.”

His words hit you harder than the tears, and you feel a small spark of hope for the first time in a while. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

You take a deep breath, the tissue in your hand crumpled from how tightly you’ve been gripping it. “Thanks, Seokjin,” you say, your voice shaky but genuine.

He gives you a small smile, his usual teasing edge softened. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just don’t leave your dirty dishes in the sink, and we’ll be fine.”

A faint laugh escapes you, surprising even yourself. “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up, stretching his arms overhead before motioning toward the hallway. “If you need help with your stuff, just let me know.”

You nod, feeling a little more grounded. “I will.”

The next morning, you’re standing outside your old apartment building, the last of your boxes stacked neatly by the curb. Before leaving the day before, you did ask Jin if he could help you move some of your stuff, and he somehow kindly agreed.

You’ve barely had time to double-check everything when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up. Turning toward the sound, you see a sleek gray Ford truck roll to a stop in front of you.

Seokjin hops out of the driver’s seat, dressed casually in a lavender hoodie and dark wash jeans, looking every bit the picture of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. On the passenger side, another guy climbs out, taller and broader than Jin, with dimples flashing in a warm smile.

Woah, he’s kind of cute.

“Morning,” Seokjin calls, striding toward you. He gestures to the other man. “This is Namjoon. He’s here to help out with the heavier things.”

“Hi [Y/N],” Namjoon says, his voice deep but friendly as he extends a hand. “Jin told me you needed an extra set of hands, so here I am.”

You shake his hand, still a little taken aback. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“He’s an old college buddy,” Seokjin explains, leaning against the side of the truck. “We were in the same professional fraternity back in the day. That’s how we met.”

Namjoon chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, Jin somehow convinced me to join since we were floormates. Said it would look good on my resume. Ended up being one of the best decisions I made, though. The networking was great, and we had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun,” Seokjin adds with a smirk. “I think we spent half our time organizing events and the other half trying to keep Namjoon from breaking stuff.”

Namjoon groans, his dimples deepening as he laughs. “Okay, that was one time—and it wasn’t even my fault!”

You find yourself smiling at their bickering and brief memory despite the stress of the day. Their banter feels easy and natural, a dynamic that’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s nice to hear Jin had a pretty cool college experience.

“Well,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started. The sooner we load this up, the sooner we can get everything settled.”

Between the three of you, the boxes are loaded into the truck in no time. Namjoon lifts the heavier ones like they’re nothing, while Seokjin teases him about showing off. You carry the smaller items, grateful for their help and relieved that the process is moving quickly.

Once the last box is secured in the truck bed, Seokjin glances over at you. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “Yeah. I’ll follow behind you guys with my car.”

As your car and his truck pulls away from your old apartment, you find yourself feeling a little lighter. It’s still hard to believe this is your life right now, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter won’t be so bad after all.

The move-in process is exhausting but efficient. Seokjin and Namjoon take charge of the heavier boxes while you focus on the smaller ones. Your room starts to take shape, with your bed frame set up in one corner and your essentials arranged along the walls. The other boxes you don’t need immediately are stacked neatly in the living room, ready to be taken to your parents’ place for temporary storage later.

After two hours of hauling, unpacking, and arranging, the three of you are sweaty and starving.

“I think that’s everything,” Namjoon says, leaning against the couch and wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Pizza?” Seokjin asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Pizza,” you and Namjoon echo in unison.

“And chicken wings,” Namjoon adds with a grin. “We earned it.”

“And beer,” Seokjin finishes, smirking. “That sounds good to you?”

You nod happily.

Within half an hour, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and fried chicken fills the apartment. The three of you gather around the coffee table in the living room, the TV playing 30 Rock quietly in the background. You sit cross-legged on the rug while Seokjin and Namjoon sprawl on the couch, all of you diving into the food like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

“So, Namjoon,” you start between bites of pizza, “what do you do now? Not breaking stuff as Jin mentioned, right?”

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “Thankfully, no. I’m working in publishing now, managing creative projects. Still a little chaotic, but at least it’s not as physically dangerous.”

“Only mentally,” Seokjin teases, raising his beer.

“True,” Namjoon admits, clinking his bottle against Jin’s.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, turning the attention to you. “What do you do?”

You hesitate, picking at the crust of your pizza. “I worked at a fashion company, but the company underwent some layoffs. So this is kind of…a transitional period for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s been a tough market, but with your focused attitude and experience, I’m sure you’ll find something new soon.”

“I hope so.”

After a few more slices and some casual conversation about work, gaming, and travel, the beers start to settle in. The atmosphere grows looser, and the conversation takes a turn into more, juicier topics.

“So,” Seokjin begins, leaning back against the armrest with a mischievous grin. “Getting into a more interesting topic…Relationships. What’s the story there?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “All of a sudden? Why do I feel like this is a setup?”

“It’s not a setup. We’re just curious. Plus easy topic to become closer.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Don’t bring me into this, Jin,”

“Well…” You pause, debating how much to share. The buzz from the beer nudges you toward honesty. “Without going to deep into it, let’s just say my last relationship ended badly. Cheating, lies, the whole package.”

Seokjin winces. “Ouch. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without dealing with that kind of drama.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard to find someone who’s actually worth your time these days. Everyone’s either too focused on themselves or doesn’t know what they want.”

Seokjin chuckles, a slightly bitter edge to his tone. “Or they’re just not ready to commit, no matter how much they say they are.”

You glance at him, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “I plead the fifth.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press further. You decide not to either.

“What about you, Namjoon?” you ask, redirecting the spotlight. “Any tragic love stories to share?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing tragic, thankfully. Just a lot of learning experiences. I’ve been too focused on work to really put myself out there lately.”

The conversation continues, flowing easily despite the heavy topic. As the night stretches on, you find yourself feeling unexpectedly comfortable. Seokjin and Namjoon’s company has been a comfortable change of pace from prior weeks of being alone and dealing with the aftermath of your ended relationship and job. Being all alone with your thoughts hasn’t been easy. Lost in a whirlpool of negative thoughts. And with your closest friends, Yunjin and Wendy, living miles away, even leaning on them hadn’t been an option.

But for the first time in a while, you could even say you feel happy to be around others.

The clock on the wall creeps past 11:00pm, and Namjoon glances at his phone with a small sigh. “I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Already?” Seokjin teases, though his tone is more playful than serious.

Namjoon chuckles. “Some of us have a really early morning commute tomorrow, Jin.” He stands, stretching his arms overhead before reaching for his jacket.

“I do too, you know!”

“But hey, this was fun. I’ll definitely swing by again. I’ll see you for your monthly Marvel movie nights, right?”

Seokjin grins. “You know it. You can’t miss those!”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when the next one is.”

You and Seokjin walk him to the elevator, chatting casually as you descend to the ground floor. Outside, the air is cooler, a light breeze stirring as Namjoon’s Uber pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks for helping out today,” you say, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies warmly. “And welcome to the apartment. I’m sure Jin’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Seokjin snorts.

Namjoon smirks. “See you both soon!”

With a wave, Namjoon climbs into the car, and you watch as it drives off into the night.

You and Seokjin linger outside for a moment, the hum of the city quieting as the car disappears from view.

“Well,” Seokjin says after a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of ease and uncertainty.

Well you did just unload some emotional baggage about your shitty past relationship earlier. The alcohol running through your veins isn’t helping either.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s get back inside. You’ve had a long day.”

You follow Jin back to the apartment, the soft hum of the elevator ride and the quiet hallways lulling you into a peaceful state. Once inside, the two of you automatically start tidying up the coffee table and living area, picking up empty beer bottles, wiping down surfaces, and folding the napkins that had been left scattered. It’s a quiet, easy rhythm, and before long, the space looks just as pristine as when you first arrived.

“I think we’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Agreed. Thanks again, Jin… for everything.”

He shrugs, his expression light but genuine. “Don’t mention it. Get some rest, Roomie.”

You laugh, “Will do.”

With that, Jin heads down the hallway to the right, disappearing into his room. You make your way to the left, to your room, the soft padding of your steps on the hardwood floor the only sound.

Once inside, you close the door and lean against it for a moment, letting the day’s events settle in your mind. Your room is still sparse, with only the basics unpacked, but it feels cozy enough. The bed, made with fresh sheets, beckons invitingly, and your unpacked boxes wait patiently in the corner, reminding you there’s more work to be done tomorrow.

You slip into something comfortable, wash your face, and settle under the covers. The bed is surprisingly soft, the kind that you could sink into and never leave. But despite the exhaustion tugging at your body, sleep doesn’t come right away.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Jin’s easy demeanor since you’ve started talking to him again. His kind words. His quick, charming smile and laughter. His height—tall enough that you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. And those plump lips of his…

Huh? No, no wait a minute!

You blink at the ceiling, catching your thoughts veering dangerously south. What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact that kindness from a man feels so foreign after everything you’ve been through. Whatever it is, your brain is doing laps around something you absolutely should not be thinking about.

Gross. Stop it. You scrunch your face in frustration, trying to shake the image of Jin’s stupidly handsome face from your mind.

This is Seokjin, your childhood rival, the annoying kid who used to show off his stupid gaming collection and beat you at literally everything. That’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

He is just kindly letting you stay with him, but you know he’s going to be waiting for you to move out soon enough.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Sleep. That’s what you need. Just sleep.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Eventually, you manage to quiet your mind, and your eyes drift shut. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

It’s the kind of sleep that cradles you, soothing the jagged edges of your worries. The stressors in your life—the layoff, the breakup, the uncertainty of your future—haven’t disappeared, but for once, they feel distant, safely tucked on the backburner. This new chapter isn’t perfect, but at least one major burden has been lifted, and that’s enough for now.

Until it isn’t.

The urge comes on suddenly, pulling you from the cocoon of rest. You blink groggily, your senses slowly catching up to reality as you register the weight pressing against your bladder. Turning your head to the side, you squint at the clock on your phone: 2:33 a.m.

You need to pee.

You groan softly. Of course. Why wouldn’t your body choose the middle of the night to interrupt what was probably the nicest sleep you’ve had in months? Throwing off the covers, you shuffle out of bed and head for the bathroom, still half-asleep and stumbling in your room as you walk inside the en-suite bathroom.

The cool tile under your feet jolts you a bit closer to full consciousness. The soft hum of the apartment at night feels oddly soothing, even as you fumble to turn on the light.

After finishing up and washing your hands, you pause for a moment, the dryness in your throat making itself known. Great. Now you’re thirsty too.

The memory of Jin mentioning the case of bottled water he keeps under the kitchen sink stops you. Sighing, you quietly slip out of your room, padding into the darkened apartment.

The space is eerily still, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting faint patterns across the floor of the living room. You make your way to the kitchen, carefully navigating around the furniture, not wanting to stub a toe or knock anything over.

Opening one of the cabinet beneath the sink, you find the water bottle case Jin mentioned. The plastic crinkles as you grab a bottle, and you wince, hoping the noise doesn’t carry too far. Closing the cabinet as quietly as you can, you straighten up and twist the cap open, taking a long, refreshing sip.

As you stand there, your gaze drifts toward the living room and the hallway that leads toward Jin’s room. You notice light seeping from below the doorway. Is he still up? Shouldn’t he be sleeping? He did mention something earlier about needing to head into the office in the morning.

Well… maybe he’s streaming? Jin has been kind of hesitant to talk openly about his side hustle, but after your harmless sleuthing on his Instagram the other day, it makes sense to have this type of scheduling. His posts, the tags, the casual mentions of late-night work—it all points to streaming. And why not? No shame in being a streamer. Plenty of people are wildly successful doing it. And he’s probably catering to overseas fans in Asia during these hours.

You shrug to yourself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not your business.

Deciding not to overthink it, you turn to head back to your room. But after a couple of steps in the living room, a faint noise catches your attention.

You freeze.

A voice… soft, low, and unmistakably a moan.

Your breath hitches as the sound cuts through the stillness, sending your thoughts racing. What was that…?

Haha… you must be overthinking things.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure whether to move or pretend you didn’t hear anything at all.

But now, from this angle, you notice something else. Jin’s door isn’t fully closed. It’s very, very slightly ajar.

The realization makes your pulse quicken. You’re not sure why—it’s not like you were planning to barge in or anything. But the faint glow spilling from the room and that sound… it feels like you’ve stumbled into something you weren’t meant to witness.

Your eyes dart to the gap in the doorway, then back to your water bottle. Just go to bed, you tell yourself. Whatever Jin is doing is none of your business. You’ve already overstepped enough by loitering here in the middle of the night.

But your feet don’t move.

Instead, you find yourself stepping a bit closer, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The soft glow of a screen flickers against the walls, accompanied by faint, muffled sounds—another low moan, followed by a voice, Jin’s voice, quiet but distinct.

He’s probably just streaming, you reason, though your mind betrays you, replaying the noise you just heard. That didn’t sound like any gaming commentary you’ve ever heard.

Your curiosity battles with your better judgment. This is weird. This is weird. Go back to bed, you scold yourself. Yet, you find yourself taking a hesitant step closer, your bare feet silent against the floor.

Peering at the slight crack in the door, you catch a glimpse of Jin sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting hoodie, the hood pulled halfway up, and his headphones cover his ears.

You hesitate for just a moment too long, your eyes flickering back to the gap in the door. Jin shifts slightly in his chair, and that’s when you see it—his hand moving slowly, deliberately, along the length of his member.

Oh my god…

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization slams into you.

You catch yourself lingering, unable to look away despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn back. Jin’s hoodie hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly with his movements. His hand moves with deliberate intent, wrapping firmly around his length as he strokes himself in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

The motion is mesmerizing, almost practiced—his grip tightening subtly at the base before sliding upward, then loosening as his hand glides back down. His fingers flex with precision, coaxing soft, breathy moans from his lips, barely audible but enough to make your skin prickle.

He shifts in his chair, angling himself slightly toward the camera, his movements smooth and calculated. His legs are spread comfortably apart, the outline of his frame illuminated by the soft glow of the monitor. The confidence in his actions is undeniable, as if he’s done this countless times before, every motion intentional and deliberate for the audience he can’t see but knows is watching.

Your heart pounds harder when his strokes pick up pace briefly, then slow again, teasing, calculated. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, and every now and then, a low groan escapes, richer and deeper than the softer sounds he’s been making.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Jin murmurs suddenly, his tone smooth and teasing, almost playful. You jump up slightly from the sudden spoken words. His strokes grow a fraction faster, his hand tightening briefly before loosening again. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The faint click of his mouse follows, likely scrolling through the flood of comments. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he tilts his head as if he’s reading something amusing.

“Oh, you want me to go slower?” he says, his voice dropping a notch, rich and deliberate. His movements follow suit, his hand sliding torturously slow along his length, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. “Patience. You’ll get what you’re asking for. Just keep watching.”

He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly, his free hand brushing over his thigh. “Such a needy audience tonight,” he adds with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock indulgence. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You love it when I take my time, don’t you?”

Your breath catches as you hear the faintest hitch in his voice, a sign that even he isn’t immune to his own ministrations. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, his strokes quickening again as his chest rises and falls in heavier breaths. “Keep telling me what you want. I can’t get enough of it.”

The chat on his screen is moving so quickly it’s impossible to follow, but he clearly can. His responses are measured, tailored, and completely immersed in the moment.

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he says with a breathy laugh, likely reacting to a particularly generous tip or comment. His hand slows again, teasing, his thumb brushing over the tip of his length in a way that draws a soft, shuddering groan from his lips. “Guess I should return the favor, huh?”

His voice lowers further, almost a whisper, intimate in a way that makes your heart pound. “Let me know how much you’re enjoying this,” he says, his words melting into another low moan. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Your pulse races as you watch him lean back slightly, adjusting his position to maintain his pace, his focus entirely on the screen and the comments it displays. The intimacy of the scene feels almost overwhelming, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance.

You step back, your breath hitching as you force yourself to retreat. Whatever this is, you weren’t meant to see it!

And yet the image is burned into your mind as you close your door, your thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity.

Oh my fucking god…

The soft click of the mouse breaks you from your trance, and you realize you’ve been standing there far too long. Before Jin can notice anything amiss, you step away from his side of the apartment as quietly as possible, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You retreat down the hall to your room, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. Leaning against it, you try to catch your breath, your mind racing. Jin, your childhood rival and now your new roommate, is apparently living a double life you never could have anticipated.

Never mind.

This new life that you’re living, will not be easy at all.

a/n: happy thanksgiving!! this is another very short series i plan to make with around 3-5 chapters. i'll keep brainstorming and slowly writing this along with my a(myg)dala fic series... but this is very brainrot not too heavy focus on plot so i probably won't take long to continue it compared to the other series hehe!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

#seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #smut #heart on the window #bts fic #bts #seokjin x y/n #jin fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n

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tizahfanfics · 3 days ago

Text

This POST reminded me of a fic I wrote a long time ago. It's basically Gordon and Scott on the beach (but it's angst, because... it's me, so it's always angst).

💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡

MURKY WATERS

"I was lost in a sea of despair, but you pulled me back..."

"You wanna surfing today?" The question came out of nowhere.

Gordon blinked and stared at his brother. It was ridiculously early, even for his morning habits. Scott stood in front of him, wearing this weird, expectant look.

"Scott… what?"

"I'm heading out to catch some waves. Thought you'd wanna come along."

"Sure, just—give me a minute. But, uh, why so early? It's gotta be freezing out there." Mornings on the island were always chilly, with winds that cut like a knife. Not exactly Gordon’s ide.

"What? Thought you liked a little challenge. Or are you chickening out?" Scott smirked, looking way too amused for Gordon's taste.

"No way! Just didn’t think you’d wanna hit the waves this early," Gordon said cautiously, choosing his words like walking on eggshells. Scott had been… touchy lately. The wrong tone or phrasing could set him off.

"Fine. I’ll meet you on the beach." Scott spun on his heel and left, leaving Gordon momentarily stunned. Well… maybe this was good. Maybe Scott was finally feeling more like himself. Gordon loved surfing with Scott, so… why not?

Gordon got dressed quickly and headed down to the beach, grabbing his board on the way.

It was definitely cold, just as he'd thought. Gordon considered trying to talk Scott into waiting a little longer, but when he spotted his brother already out in the water, grinning ear to ear, he let it slide.

Bracing himself for the icy waves, Gordon followed Scott into the surf. The wind was sharp and biting, and the water was frigid. Hopefully, Scott would realize this soon and they'd both head back in.

They paddled out and caught a couple of small waves, Gordon staying close enough to keep an eye on his brother. If anything went wrong, he was ready to haul Scott back to shore, no questions asked.

"Hey, remember that time at… what was it, Malibu?" Scott paddled closer, his nose red from the cold and his eyes bright with energy.

"Yeah, I remember. You didn’t wanna go, but then we couldn’t get you off the board," Gordon said with a laugh. Back then, Scott had been down in the dumps for some reason, so Gordon had dragged him out to Malibu for a few days with some friends.

Scott had initially bailed, saying he had "stuff to deal with," but right before Gordon left, he showed up, packed and ready.

"I didn’t wanna go," Scott admitted, his voice quieter. "That was the day Erin dumped me."

Oh.

Gordon hadn’t known that. He’d met Erin a few times, but never thought their relationship was anything serious. She was the free-spirited type, not someone who seemed interested in long-term anything. Besides, Scott had been gearing up to head to the Air Force Academy anyway.

"I had no idea," Gordon said, his brow furrowing. "Why didn’t you tell me? And why'd you decide to come, then?"

"It was… something she said," Scott replied, trailing off as he stared at the horizon.

Gordon waited for him to elaborate, but Scott just stayed there, lost in thought, before suddenly paddling further out.

"Hey, you just gonna sit there? That wave looks killer!" Scott called, breaking Gordon's train of thought.

Gordon smiled at his brother's excitement before trying to follow along. Scott wasn't making sense today;but after weeks of having a very quiet and untalkative brother, this seemed like progress. Gordon hoped it was.

He watched his brother advance and felt a tingling in his stomach that told him not to lose sight of him.

"Wait! Don’t go too far!" Gordon yelled, but Scott kept paddling toward a swell forming in the east. Gordon couldn’t help but feel like a worried parent on a beach trip with their kid. Usually, that was Scott’s job.

Apesar do frio, Scott parecia estar aproveitando o momento. Era bom ver seu irmão relaxando.

He enjoyed the sea. The day was truly beautiful, the cold already beginning to give way to comforting warmth as the sun rose in the sky.He looked around, not wanting to lose sight of Scott. Everything seemed so normal, just like old times.

A strong wind began to blow like the howl of a wounded animal. Gordon felt a strange chill, his Squid sense suddenly began to beep. He didn't know what it was.

His brother continued forward and Gordon realized he was heading in an unsafe direction. Stroking faster he began to move forward to get closer to Scott. His brain told him he was just freaking out over nothing.

But something in Gordon’s gut told him he needed to get Scott out of the water. Like, now.

He paddled faster, trying to catch up. Scott shouldn’t be pushing himself this hard—his body was still recovering.

"Scott! Slow down, man. Save some energy for the next set…" Gordon tried to keep his tone light, but his concern was bleeding through.

Scott ignored him. When the wave came, he rode it perfectly, and Gordon followed close behind.

Being inside the wave was exhilarating, like flying. Gordon thought maybe that was what Scott was chasing—freedom.

When they surfaced, both gasping for air, Gordon swept his wet hair back and glanced around for Scott. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Scott popped up right in front of him.

Scott’s expression was… strange. A mix of fear and uncertainty.

"You good?" Gordon blurted out before he could stop himself.

Scott frowned, like he was trying to work out the question, then turned back to the horizon.

"Yeah. I’m fine," he finally said, but his tone didn’t match the words.

"Scott, why don’t we head back now, huh? My leg’s cramping up a bit. Don’t think I should risk it," Gordon said, hoping to appeal to Scott’s protective instincts.

Scott gave him a long look, and for a second, Gordon thought he’d agree. But halfway back, Scott stopped abruptly.

"You’re lying."

"What?" Gordon asked, caught off guard.

"You’re lying! I’m fine, damn it! Why is everyone acting like I’m made of glass?" Scott shouted, his voice shaking as he tossed his surfboard aside.

"Whoa, hey! Where’s this coming from? We’re just worried about you!" Gordon said, letting his own board float as he reached for Scott.

But Scott wasn’t having it. "Worried? I’m sick of it! I know what I can handle, Gordon! I know what I'm capable of, I'm not broke! Can I at least ride a wave? ....I need this. Either that or would you rather I take a plane to relax? I—" He laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that made Gordon’s chest tighten.

"Scott! Calm down, man. Let’s just—"

But Scott was already paddling back out, ignoring him completely.

Gordon’s heart was pounding. Something was wrong.

"Scott!" he yelled, picking up his pace as a wave rolled over them. When Gordon surfaced, Scott was gone.

Panic hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Scott!" Gordon shouted again, spinning in the water. His pulse thundered in his ears.

Without a second thought, Gordon dove under, scanning the cold, murky water. It wasn’t long before he spotted a flash of blue—Scott’s wetsuit.

Scott lay motionless in the murky water.

Fuck fuck fuck!

He swam faster than he ever had, grabbing his brother and hauling him toward the shore.

By the time they hit the sand, Scott wasn’t breathing.

Gordon’s throat tightened, but he shoved the panic aside. His training kicked in;ignoring how much he himself was shaking.

Minutes felt like hours until, finally, Scott coughed and spat out water.

He couldn't believe what had just happened. He wanted to cry, from relief, from fear, from all the feelings that were boiling inside him.

Gordon quickly came to his senses upon hearing the distressing sounds of his brother. A mixture of coughs and sobs shook Scott's body, making Gordon's heart tighten even more.

Pulling his brother so he could breathe better resting on his chest as he calmed his own nerves from the terror he felt when Scott disappeared into the water.

"Shhh, you're okay. You're okay bro, we're okay." He knew they were far from okay; but somehow they would get there.

When his brother's rapid breathing and sobs finally calmed, he pulled Scott so they were face to face, still supporting him with his hands on his shoulders.

"What's gotten into you?!" ?" He didn't want his voice to crack, but he couldn't help it. It would give him many nights of nightmares.

Scott looked away and frowned, as if understanding had only just dawned on him.

"I don't know…oh my gosh. Fuck! I'm so sorry." He began to speak, his voice low and muffled by his own hands, which were shaking uncontrollably.

"Damn it! You don't do that Scott. You don't go into the water and underestimate it like that, ever. And you can't do that to me! You scared me to death." He stood up, needing to breathe and calm himself. "If I hadn't found you, you would have died! Do you see that? We just got you back…you can't-" Then everything came crashing down; he could no longer contain the tears that insisted on falling suddenly.

Scott tried to get up, but his legs betrayed him and he almost fell back into the sand if Gordon hadn't rushed to catch him.

They locked in a desperate embrace as if they could put all the broken pieces of themselves back together with just the endless love they felt for each other.

Gordon held his brother tightly. Scott was shaking under his hands. For a minute they stood there, breathing. Until Gordon realized that Scott was now shaking badly and still a little panting. He maneuvered his brother to steady him, and they both began the slow walk toward home.

"Let's go home, Scotty. Let's get you warm again." His brother said nothing, but squeezed his hand in acknowledgement.

You don't have to run, Scott. You can lean on us. We'll get through this, together."His brother made a very timid sound of agreement beside him. Gordon accepted this, it was the best he could ask for at the moment.

Scott had only been home from the hospital for a month. He looked much better physically, but Gordon knew there were unseen wounds that would take longer to heal.

"Thank you Gords" His brother thanked him, softly, almost a whisper.

"Anytime, bro. I'm here for you, whenever you need me. But I'd rather you didn't pull an Aquaman, my heart is fragile."

#thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy

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mingi-s-dimples · 10 hours ago

Text

Sparring Partners - Jongho

KINKTOBER DAY 25, REQ. BY anon

~"Jongho+ virginity+ he's experienced, but reader is a virgin"

pairing: jongho x fem!reader

genre: 18+, some soft moments

summary: you and jongho, sparring partners since forever. tho, something shifted in the air the night you decided to stay over schedule and workout..

wc: 6k

warnings: sparring partners, play fight/controlled fight mentioned, reader is a virgin, lots of teasing, making out, penetration, eating out, multiple orgasms, some fluff at the end, they cuddle, unprotected (boo use protection irl!), unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: I had to okay... i had to add boxing in one of my fics 😞😞😞 fun fact I have a black belt in taekwondo but haven't practiced in years because of my knee 😩 fuck inexperienced fightersss. anywayss sorry for the delay ml i hope you like it !!!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The gym echoed with the sharp sounds of punches hitting the heavy bag and sneakers squeaking against the mat. It was late evening, and the training space was nearly empty, save for a few stragglers winding down their routines. You tightened the laces on your gloves, adjusting the wraps underneath, and rolled your shoulders to loosen up. This was your sanctuary—a place where you could lose yourself in the rhythm of training and momentarily forget the chaos of life outside.

And then there was Jongho.

“Ready to get knocked on your ass again?” his voice rang out from behind you.

You groaned inwardly but didn’t bother turning around. “You’ve got jokes today, huh?”

He walked past you, his presence annoyingly commanding. Dressed in his usual black tank top and joggers, he looked every bit the confident fighter you’d always known. Jongho had been your best friend since high school, but lately, your relationship had taken a turn. The constant teasing, the competitive jabs—it all felt heavier, charged with something neither of you dared to name.

“Come on,” he said, stretching his arms overhead, his muscles flexing in a way that shouldn’t have been distracting. “I’m just keeping you on your toes. If you want to get better, you’ve got to keep up with me.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him to the sparring ring. “You’re so full of yourself. Just because you’ve got a little more experience doesn’t mean I can’t hold my own.”

Jongho smirked, leaning casually against the ropes as you climbed in. “A little more experience? Sweetheart, I could train you in my sleep.”

The nickname stung, but you masked it with a glare. “If you’re so confident, maybe I’ll surprise you tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got.”

The banter was a familiar dance, but beneath the surface, it prickled at your pride. Jongho had always been ahead of you—in life, in love, in the ring. You couldn’t deny his skill or his charm, but his cockiness got under your skin. Tonight, though, you were determined to prove yourself.

The two of you squared up, circling each other in the ring. You kept your stance low, your fists raised, and your eyes locked on his. He moved with a relaxed confidence, his footwork fluid and precise.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You always hesitate before throwing a punch.”

“I don’t hesitate,” you shot back, aiming a quick jab at his midsection.

He dodged effortlessly, his lips quirking into a grin. “Yes, you do.”

Your frustration grew as you continued sparring. No matter how hard you tried, Jongho always seemed to anticipate your moves, countering with ease. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat while you were already feeling the strain.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, blocking your punch and pushing you back with a light shove.

You stumbled but caught yourself, narrowing your eyes. “Shut up and fight me properly.”

His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something serious passing through his eyes. “Alright, then.”

In a blur of movement, Jongho closed the distance between you, his punches coming faster and harder. You managed to block most of them, but his sheer power was overwhelming. Before you knew it, he had you pinned against the ropes, his hands gripping your wrists to immobilize you.

“Gotcha,” he said, his voice low and smug.

Your heart pounded—not just from the exertion, but from the closeness of him. His face was inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. You tried to ignore the way your body reacted, the way your stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“Let go,” you said, your voice shakier than you’d intended.

“Not until you admit I’m better,” he teased, though his grip loosened slightly.

You glared at him, but the intensity of his gaze made it hard to hold. His dark eyes seemed to search yours, as if he was looking for something beyond your usual banter. For a moment, neither of you moved, the charged silence stretching between you.

And then he let go, stepping back with a smirk. “We’ll call it a draw.”

“Like hell we will,” you muttered, shaking off the strange tension as you moved to reset your stance.

But the truth was, you couldn’t shake it. Something had shifted in that moment, and it lingered in the air between you.

---

You stayed at the gym longer than usual, working the heavy bag long after Jongho had left. Or at least, you thought he’d left.

When you finally peeled off your gloves and headed to the locker room, you found him sitting on one of the benches, scrolling through his phone.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, startled.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Waiting for you.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why?”

He shrugged, standing and walking toward you. “Because you’ve been off all night, and I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you said, brushing past him to grab your water bottle.

“Bullshit,” he said, his tone sharper now. “You’ve been pissed at me for weeks, and I don’t even know why. Did I do something, or are you just in a bad mood?”

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you turned to face him, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re just—ugh, you’re so infuriating sometimes! You act like you’re better than me at everything, like I’m some kind of joke to you.”

Jongho blinked, clearly taken aback. “Is that what you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” you said, your voice rising. “You’re always teasing me, always showing off. I get it—you’re more experienced, more skilled, whatever. You don’t have to rub it in my face all the time.”

He stared at you for a moment, his jaw tightening. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what are you doing?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

Jongho took a step closer, his voice softer now. “I’m trying to push you because I know how good you can be. I don’t want you to settle for anything less than your best. If I tease you, it’s because I care, not because I think you’re a joke.”

His words caught you off guard, and you felt your anger deflate slightly. “You… care?”

“Of course I care,” he said, his gaze steady. “You’re my best friend. And if I’ve been an ass about it, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was getting to you like this.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you looked away, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “It’s not just that,” you admitted quietly. “It’s… everything. I feel like I’m always trying to catch up to you, like I’ll never be on your level. And it’s exhausting.”

Jongho’s expression softened, and he reached out to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re already on my level, whether you see it or not. And for what it’s worth… I’ve always admired how hard you work. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

The warmth in his gaze made your breath hitch, and for a moment, you felt like the world had stopped. There was something different in the way he was looking at you now—something deeper, more intense.

“Jongho…” you started, but you didn’t know what to say.

He stepped even closer, his hand still resting lightly on your chin. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. You’re enough just as you are.”

The words were like a balm to your insecurities, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Before you could overthink it, you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his chest.

He hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. The steady beat of his heart against your ear was oddly soothing, and you let yourself relax into his embrace.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been too hard on you,” he murmured. “I just want you to see what I see.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “And what do you see?”

Jongho’s gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes. “Someone incredible,” he said simply.

The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, and for the first time, you didn’t shy away from it. You let yourself feel the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, and the steady warmth of his hands on your waist.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but before you knew it, your lips were brushing against his. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but the moment he responded, the kiss deepened, growing more urgent and passionate.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

“Jongho,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “Trust me.”

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could.

Jongho’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the touch searing into your skin, while his other hand slid with maddening ease to your waist, his fingers curling around you with a firm possessiveness that made your breath catch. The heat of his hands burned through the thin fabric separating you, and the way his eyes locked onto yours—dark, hungry, unrelenting—made the rest of the world fall away.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, the rough timbre of his voice sending a delicious shiver down your spine. His lips tilted into a slow, knowing smirk. “Don’t tell me I make you nervous.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words died on your lips when he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours with a teasing lightness. “Come here,” he growled, his voice thick with command, leaving no room for argument.

When his mouth claimed yours again, it wasn’t gentle. It was consuming—deep, insistent, as though he were tasting something he’d craved for far too long. His hands tightened on your waist, tugging you against him as a soft gasp escaped you, only for him to swallow it with another hungry kiss.

He broke away just enough to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours as his thumb traced over your lower lip, swollen from his kisses. “Look at you,” he teased, his tone playful but laced with a dangerous edge. “So quiet now. Where’s all that attitude from earlier? You had so much to say before.”

The heat rushing to your face made your cheeks burn, but you forced yourself to glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. “I—I hate you,” you muttered, the stammer in your voice betraying your conviction.

A low, rich laugh rumbled from his chest as his grip on your waist shifted, his fingers skimming the curve of your hip. “Hate me?” he repeated, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth in a featherlight tease. “Funny. Doesn’t feel like hate when you’re clinging to me like this.”

“I’m not—” you started, but his hands slid higher, his thumbs grazing the bare skin just beneath your ribs.

“Not what?” he cut in, his smirk widening. His voice dropped lower, the teasing note darkening into something more carnal. “Not shaking? Not holding onto me like I’m the only thing keeping you standing? Not pressing those pretty little legs together, trying to pretend I’m not getting to you?”

Your breath hitched sharply, and the way his gaze dipped to your thighs—still pressed tightly together—made your stomach twist in a way that was both mortifying and electrifying.

“Jongho,” you warned, though your voice came out more like a whimper than you’d have liked.

“Oh, don’t stop now,” he purred, leaning closer until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. Almost makes me want to keep going. See how far I can push you before you beg me to stop—or beg me not to.”

“Y-You’re insufferable,” you bit out, your hands finding his chest as you tried to push him away.

But Jongho held his ground easily, his grip on your waist unrelenting. “And yet, you’re still here,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his hands flexed against your sides.

His words left you scrambling for control, but the way his hands moved—his thumbs brushing slow, lazy circles over your hips—was unraveling you with every passing second.

“You’re too cocky,” you managed to snap, though it came out breathier than you’d hoped.

“Too cocky?” he echoed, his brow quirking as his smirk deepened. He tilted his head, his lips barely grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “No. Not cocky. Just confident. Because I know exactly what I’m doing.”

The heat of his breath against your skin made your knees buckle slightly, and your hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt to keep yourself steady. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you in a way that made your stomach flip.

“You don’t have to hide it,” he said, pulling back enough to meet your gaze, his eyes softer now but no less intense. “You’re not used to this, are you?”

Your silence was answer enough, and his smile softened, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained. “You’ve never let anyone get this close before, have you?”

You hesitated, your throat tight as you finally shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “I haven’t.”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, grounding you. “Good,” he said, his voice dipping low as he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your temple in a surprisingly gentle kiss. “That means I get to be your first.”

The way he said it—possessive, certain—made your heart stutter. You looked up at him, a flush spreading across your face, and he grinned, his confidence as intoxicating as it was infuriating.

“You’ve got me,” he said, his gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “And I’ve got you. So let’s not pretend you don’t want me to solve that little problem of yours.”

Your breath caught as his gaze flicked pointedly to your legs before returning to your face, his smirk widening at the way you squirmed.

“Jongho,” you choked out, your face burning, but he only laughed again, his fingers curling into your waist as he pulled you closer.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “I’ve got all the time in the world. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise in his tone made your chest tighten, your nerves and anticipation tangling together into something you couldn’t quite name. Whatever was happening between you, one thing was clear—Jongho wasn’t about to let you run away from it. From him.

The air around you felt impossibly thick, every fiber of your being hyperaware of Jongho’s piercing gaze and the tantalizing weight of his hands on your waist. His question lingered between you, heavy with intent, and when you finally found your voice, it came out softer than you expected, almost a whisper.

“Your place,” you said, your cheeks burning at your own boldness.

Jongho’s grin widened, a mix of excitement and triumph flashing across his face. Without warning, his arms shifted, and he scooped you up with startling ease, your legs dangling as his strong grip supported your weight effortlessly.

“Jongho!” you squeaked, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to my place,” he said, his voice brimming with confidence and amusement. “You didn’t expect me to let you walk after saying something like that, did you?”

You gave him a halfhearted glare, though your lips betrayed you with a small smile. “I have legs, you know. Perfectly good ones.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk playful as he carried you toward his car. “Oh, I’m aware. But this is faster. Plus, I kind of like holding you like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, secretly enjoying the way his strong arms felt around you. He set you down only when he reached his car, opening the door for you with an exaggerated flourish.

“Your chariot awaits,” he teased.

You climbed in, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he countered, flashing you a cheeky grin before closing the door and rounding the car to slide into the driver’s seat.

As he started the engine, the hum of the car barely masked the charged silence between you. Jongho’s right hand drifted to your thigh, his fingers splaying possessively over the fabric of your jeans. The touch was casual in a way that felt anything but casual, and the heat of his palm seared through the material, sending a shiver up your spine.

Your legs instinctively shifted, pressing together slightly, and Jongho let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and teasing.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

“No,” you said quickly, though the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, clearly unconvinced. His thumb stroked a slow, deliberate circle against your thigh, and you bit your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his touch affected you.

Your resolve faltered, however, when your gaze darted to his lap. Your breath caught at the sight: the unmistakable outline of his arousal straining against his sweatpants, a bold and unapologetic testament to the effect you had on him.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly averted your gaze, your face burning as you looked out the window.

Jongho caught your reaction immediately and laughed, the sound rich and full of self-assurance. “See something you like?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, crossing your arms and pointedly refusing to look at him.

“You’re adorable,” he said, his tone warm and teasing as he pulled into his apartment building’s parking garage.

When he parked the car and stepped out, he walked around to your side, opening the door for you with a mischievous grin. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be shy now.”

You rolled your eyes but let him help you out of the car, his hand lingering on your lower back as he guided you toward the elevator. The ride up was quiet but thick with anticipation, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension.

When the elevator doors opened to reveal his apartment, your breath caught. The space was sleek and modern, a small penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The warm glow of the ambient lighting cast a soft, inviting hue over the stylish furniture and minimalist decor.

“Wow,” you said softly, stepping inside as Jongho closed the door behind you.

“Like it?” he asked, his voice low and smooth as he leaned against the door, his eyes never leaving you.

“It’s… beautiful,” you admitted, your gaze sweeping over the space before returning to him.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, his tone teasing but with a sincerity that made your cheeks heat.

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could speak, Jongho took a step closer, his gaze darkening as he reached for you. His hands found your waist again, pulling you flush against him, and the intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch.

“Now,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands began to wander, “let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”

Jongho’s fingers curled gently around your waist as he gazed down at you, the flickering tension between you growing heavier by the second. His lips quirked into a teasing smile, but his eyes were dark, brimming with intensity. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head, discarding it on the nearby couch.

The sight made your breath hitch. You’d seen him shirtless before—during practices, workouts, even casual moments at the beach—but this was different. Under the warm lighting of his apartment, with the weight of his gaze on you and the air thick with unspoken promises, it felt different. It felt intimate. The sharp lines of his abs, the broad planes of his chest, the faint sheen of his skin—all of it made your pulse quicken and your stomach flip.

You gulped audibly, your throat dry as you struggled to find something—anything—to say.

Jongho noticed immediately, his smirk deepening. “Like what you see?” he teased, stepping closer, his confidence radiating off him in waves.

You rolled your eyes, trying to regain some composure. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“And yet, you can’t stop staring,” he countered, his voice low and warm as he reached for you again.

You huffed, but your resolve crumbled when he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment before they drifted down, grazing the collar of your blouse. He hesitated, his dark eyes locking onto yours, silently asking for permission.

You nodded, barely able to muster the courage to meet his gaze.

Jongho’s hands moved with deliberate care, unbuttoning your blouse one piece at a time. The cool air brushed against your skin as the fabric fell away, leaving you standing there in nothing but your bra and jeans. His eyes traced every inch of you, his gaze appreciative but never lewd, and the weight of his attention made your skin burn.

“You’re stunning,” he said softly, his voice carrying none of the teasing from before.

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, mumbling, “Stop saying things like that.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” he replied, his hands moving to your waistband now. He paused again, waiting for your nod before he gently worked the denim down your legs, leaving you standing there in your underwear.

You felt vulnerable, exposed, but the way Jongho looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—chased away any lingering insecurities.

“Your turn,” you said, your voice shaking slightly as you gestured to his sweatpants.

He chuckled but obliged, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and sliding them down in one smooth motion. Your eyes darted down briefly, catching a glimpse of the tight fabric of his boxers and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal straining against them.

You quickly looked away, your face burning as you muttered, “Jongho!”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence as he stepped closer, his smirk returning. “You told me to take them off.”

“You’re impossible,” you groaned, trying to cover your face, but Jongho caught your wrists gently, pulling your hands away.

“Don’t hide from me,” he said softly, his tone shifting again to something more tender. “Not now.”

Before you could respond, he bent slightly, hooking one arm under your legs and the other around your back.

“Jongho, no!” you protested, squirming as he lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

“Yes,” he said with a grin, holding you securely against his chest. “I like carrying you. You should just get used to it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as he carried you toward his bedroom, though you couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

The bedroom was just as sleek and modern as the rest of his apartment, the neutral tones and soft lighting creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Jongho set you down gently on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering on your waist as he knelt slightly to meet your gaze.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and full of warmth.

You nodded, your heart racing as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that promised so much more. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and for the first time, you felt ready to let go of your hesitation and trust him completely.

As he softly pushed you on your back and made you lay comfortably on the crisp, black linen, he leaned back and took in the sight.

Jongho's gaze lingered, a mix of admiration and unguarded desire as he took you in. His voice broke the charged silence, low and steady. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, the sincerity in his tone sending a warm flush across your skin.

Before you could find the words to respond, he moved, placing one knee on the bed beside you. His eyes flickered downward, catching the faint evidence of your arousal through the delicate fabric of your panties. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips, a combination of satisfaction and mischief playing on his face.

The boldness of his gaze sent a jolt of self-consciousness through you, and you instinctively brought your hands to cover yourself. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm as he gently pushed your hands aside.

Your breath hitched as his hands found your thighs, the warmth of his palms igniting your nerves. His touch was confident but patient, his fingers brushing over your skin in a way that left your mind spinning. When he tugged at your panties, you froze for a moment, caught between flustered shyness and the undeniable pull of trust and longing.

With one smooth motion, he slipped the fabric down, the cool air grazing your now bare skin. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, his expression a mixture of awe and restraint. “Perfect,” he whispered, more to himself than to you, and you felt your cheeks burn under the weight of his attention.

Your heart pounded as his gaze returned to yours, the intensity making you feel as though he could see every vulnerable thought running through your mind. “I’ve got you,” he reassured, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your knee as his hands caressed the sensitive skin of your thighs.

Jongho’s lips were soft against your skin, each kiss deliberate and slow, as though he were savoring every moment. When his lips reached your inner thighs, he paused, lifting his gaze to meet yours, seeking your reassurance. There was a quiet confidence in his eyes, but also a deep tenderness, as if he were attuned to every subtle shift in your body.

"Everything okay? Want me to.. go on?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the question hanging between you two.

You nodded, your heart racing, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. Without waiting for another word, his kisses deepened, trailing slowly toward your cunt. His lips moved with purpose, but not hurriedly—each press against your skin made your breath catch, your body shuddering in response. His hands glided up your thighs, fingers brushing with a tenderness that was almost too much to bear, yet every touch sent sparks through your entire being.

As his lips reached as close as possible to your folds, you couldn’t stop the way your body arched toward him, the quiet gasp escaping your lips. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, pulling him closer as though you couldn’t get enough of him, yet at the same time, you didn’t want him to rush.

Jongho didn’t hurry, though. His movements were measured, gentle but deliberate, as he worked his way deeper, tongue feeling and tasting every sweet spot of yours It made your pulse race. The weight of his attention—every brush of his tongue—was intoxicating, and the way his hands caressed your skin made you feel utterly consumed by the moment, the intensity building with every second.

Jongho’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly, pulling you closer to him as his

lips and tongue deepened.

A soft moan escaped your lips, the heat building in your body as his motion of eating you out became more precise, more intentional. Every time he sucked on your clit, the pressure seemed to intensify, and your breath quickened, your body arching slightly, reacting to his touch in ways you hadn’t expected.

"Jongho..." you whispered, your voice a mixture of breathlessness and need, the feeling of his lips trailing against your skin making your belly tighten, your heart racing. "I-I’m close..."

His eyes flickered up at you, a silent reassurance in his gaze as he adjusted his position, his hands holding you closer still. He seemed to read the tension in your body, knowing exactly how to eat you out to push you further into the edge of your orgasm. You couldn’t contain the quiet gasps that escaped with every press of his lips against you.

The room felt charged, your body humming in tune with his, each movement from him sending you deeper into a state of blissful surrender. Your hands tightened against his shoulders, holding him close, as your body responded—heat pooling in your chest, your belly tightening, the anticipation growing within you.

Finally, your high washed over you, hard and overwhelming, a shudder running through you as you let go completely, a quiet whimper of satisfaction slipping past your lips. Jongho, his face still soft with the same tenderness, held you closely, as if to cradle you in that moment, his presence grounding you completely. His smile, slow and satisfied, told you that he, too, was content, savoring every second of the connection you shared.

Jongho’s fingers gently cupped your face, his gaze tender yet filled with a quiet intensity. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his touch lingering on your skin, his eyes following the movement as if memorizing every detail of you.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and desire. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so perfect.”

He leaned in just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he breathed you in, savoring the feeling of being so close to you. His thumb traced along your jawline, the movement slow and deliberate, each touch sending a shiver of warmth through your body.

When he shifted slightly, his body hovering just above you, his hand went for his briefs, a small stain of precum visible on them. He took them off and then leaned against you. His chest brushed against yours, the contact enough to make your breath catch, a deep sense of longing and anticipation filling the space between you two.

Jongho looked down at you for a moment, his expression a mix of intensity and restraint. His hand gently cupped the back of your neck, and he whispered, his voice hushed but filled with raw emotion, “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We can take it slow if you need to.”

His gaze never left yours, his eyes soft with concern yet burning with a quiet intensity, as if seeking your reassurance before moving forward. You could feel the weight of his question hanging in the air, the tension between you thick and undeniable.

With a slight shift, he pulled back just enough to allow you a moment to decide. The room was thick with unspoken words, with trust and desire intertwining in a dance as old as time. Jongho’s hand rested gently on your hip, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your waist, as though waiting for your answer—waiting for you to lead him, or guide him, in this shared moment of intimacy.

You didn't have enough confidence to answer to him verbally, but as you lowered yourself on the bed under him, squirming impatiently, he took the hint. But still, he didn't to nothing yet.

“Say it. Use your words, sweetie” he tapped you on your knee.

“Y-yes.. p-please, Jongho..” you said, voice barely above a whisper and breathy. He took that as a yes and leaned in, right hand resting on your hips and left hand lazily stroking his own cock before guiding it to your hole. He looked up at you again then inserted the tip in, your back arching softly.

He started to softly thrust at first, testing the waters. When he felt and also saw you get accustomed to his size, he became a little bit faster and more focused, hands holding yours above your head. He leaned in and as he thrusted into you, he let his forehead rest against yours.

The tension in the air was electric, each of Jongho's movements sending ripples through you, pushing you closer to the edge. Your breaths came in quick, uneven gasps, each one punctuated by a soft whimper or moan that seemed to fuel him further. His hands stayed steady on yours, grounding you even as your body arched beneath him, seeking release.

“That's it,” Jongho murmured, his voice rich with approval, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile as he watched you. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

The heat inside you reached its peak, and with one more motion, the second orgasm, more powerful, more intense, crashed over you. Your body trembled as you caught your high, a cry spilling from your lips, louder than you expected, raw and unrestrained. Jongho didn’t falter, his steady hold on you keeping you tethered to the moment as your breaths turned into soft, trembling gasps.

“There you go,” he whispered, his tone low and soothing as he guided you through it, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist to ground you. “So beautiful like this, letting yourself feel everything. I’m so proud of you.”

Your body shivered as the aftershocks rippled through you, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support. But just as you began to relax into the warmth of the moment, Jongho leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. His voice was soft but tinged with a teasing edge.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear, “I haven’t caught mine yet.” His words were both playful and filled with a quiet intensity that sent another shiver down your spine.

“Can you handle a little more for me?” he asked, his voice low and coaxing as his hands shifted to hold you firmly in place.

Your eyes widened slightly, your body still sensitive, but you nodded, unable to form the words. A soft, breathy sound escaped you as he began to move again, his pace slow but deliberate, the overstimulation making you whimper softly with each motion.

“You’re so good for me,” Jongho murmured, his voice full of quiet praise as he kept his steady rhythm, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race. “Just a little more, okay? You’re doing so well.”

The overstimulation had you trembling beneath him, your hands clutching at his arms as you whimpered, the sound half protest and half surrender. Jongho’s gaze never left you, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration as his pace quickened just enough to push himself closer to his high.

When he finally reached his orgasm, a low, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest, his grip on you tightening briefly before he stilled, his breaths coming in deep, steadying exhales. His hands loosened their hold, smoothing over your hips and waist in soothing strokes as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You were perfect,” he murmured, his voice warm and full of praise as he shifted slightly to let you rest more comfortably beneath him. “Thank you for trusting me. Are you okay?”

His hands cradled your face as he looked down at you, his expression soft and full of care, waiting for your response. Even in the aftermath, his priority was you—ensuring you felt safe, cherished, and wholly understood.

“Yes..” you answered his question, head dizzy and body tired from all the motion.

“Was I good enough to you?” he continued, lying besides you and holding you close.

“Oh Jongho.. of course” you smiled at him, your answer bringing a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

His smirk softened into something tender as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek with a touch so light it felt like a whisper. The room was quiet now, the air warm and heavy with the comfort of shared intimacy. He drew you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin as his arms enveloped you, strong and steady.

“Rest now,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby as he traced lazy circles along your back. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, its steady rhythm grounding you, anchoring you to the present moment.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

#ateez fanfic #illusionnet #blossomnet #ateez x reader #mingi s dimples masterlist #ateez fic #ateez x y/n #fanfic #smut fic #ateez #ateez smut #smut #jongho x y/n #jongho x reader #jongho smut #jongho

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pedrosgrogu · 2 days ago

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Born Too Late - Chapter 6

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: MDNI!! soft/sad joel, angst, tension, drinking, idk what else, let me know if i missed something.

Summary: you break off the situationship and the feelings after it are overwhelming, for both you and Joel. (2.4k+)

a/n: idk what this is, i woke up ready to write and here we are. i feel like i suck at writing from both POVs so idk how frequently ill do it but i feel like it was necessary here. always a major thank u to my bestie raven for proofing and feeding the delusions and ideas. i love all feedback so if you have any, pls share.

p.s. there will be another thanksgiving chapter tonight hehe.

Master List - Chapter 5

*Joel’s POV*

You can feel the door slam and vibrate through your bones. The sound of the sink dripping reverberates through the entire house. You stand there in disbelief; in shock. You hadn’t fallen so hard for someone since Sarah's mom, and boy did she fuck that up. Did you come on too strong? Was it the fact that you have a child? A million thoughts run through your head, but none make any sense.

By 11:30, you’re on your 3rd glass of whiskey. You aren't drunk, but you're in a sweet spot of euphoria to combat the evening's prior feelings. You’re watching reruns of Bonanza and begin to doze, until the phone rings. You jump up, “maybe it's her” you think out loud. Answering with a burly “Hello?”, not even checking caller ID. “Hey brother. Bad news, Im down at county again got in a little-” “Goddamnit Tommy.” You say, standing up, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I know, I'm sorry. But if someones not here to get me within the next 30, I'm here all weekend.” Tommy says, sounding desperate. You don't say anything for a minute, trying to figure out if you should be his savior yet again or let him learn a lesson. “I'm on the way” you grunt, hanging up the phone before he can respond. You throw on your t-shirt and jeans from earlier, and they still smell like her. The sigh that escapes your mouth is guttural. Why do you have such strong feelings about someone you barely fucking know?

You grab your keys and pull the door behind you; locking only the bottom. You look towards her house and notice the lights are all off, except her bedroom. You see her reading in bed, her hair still up and her Texans sweatshirt bunched around her. The last time you looked in her window, something very different was happening. She was on the verge of losing herself to you. You feel your jeans twitch and get in your truck. It rumbles to life and you peel down the street, praying you make it to county before midnight.

*Reader’s POV*

You slam the door behind you, and tears are building in your eyes. You pause, hoping to hear the door open and for Joel to come running after you, but he doesn't. You kick your shoes off at the door and head straight to your room, not turning any lights on. You sit in silence for a few minutes, unsure of what emotions are about to pop out next. You shoot Penny a text, not even thinking about the time in Ireland.

You: Hey Pen, can you talk?

You throw yourself on your bed, clutching your phone and holding back tears.

*ding*

You pick up your phone, not sure who you want to text you more, Joel or Penny.

Penny: Respectfully, do you know what time it is here?!

You: I'm sorry Pen, I didn’t even realize. We can catch up tomorrow, just call me when you’re free. I’ll be home all day. As soon as you hit send, the phone rings.

“Hey Pen” you say, trying not to sound as upset as you are.

“Yellow, what's wrong?” She says, yawning.

“Nothing Pen, I just missed you!” You say, trying to sound cheery.

“Girl, it's like 10:30 at your house, I know you weren't just up thinking of me.”

So you spill. You tell her about how he spoke to you at the conference, and how he cooked you dinner. How he fucked you into oblivion again. By the end of your spiel, you’re in tears again.

“Okay so from what I can gather, you obviously like him. Right? Sooooo why did we cut this off? I don't understand the whole “Ethical Misconduct” if you’re both consenting adults?”

You sigh, sniffling. “It's complicated. I truly don’t think anything would happen, but since his daughter is in my class, I don't want it to look like I’d be favoring her. I just feel stuck. I feel stuck because hello- he's hot but hello- I also don't know anything about him except his name, and how he fucks. I just-” Penny cuts you off

“I think the best thing for you to do if you aren't going to pursue this, is to leave it alone. Don’t talk to him unless it involves his daughter. Don’t even look in his direction. I hate to see you so torn up over this, but if nothing can come of it, it's time to let it die.”

You mute the phone, letting out a sigh, and a whimper. You know Pennys right, and she only wants whats best for you. It's so fucking annoying being so far away from your best friend. You’d give anything to hug her right now.

“Hello?” she says. You unmute.

“Sorry Pen, I'm here.” You look at the clock. 11:18.

“Penny, I appreciate this, and you. I love you so so much, and I'm sorry for texting so early.” You say, giggling. “But I'm tired, and I want today to be over.”

“I'm always a phone call away Yellow. Always.”

“Love you Pen.” you say, hanging up.

You stand up and walk over to your bookshelf. Running your fingers along the spines, you look out the window, and all Joel's lights are off. You find your favorite, pulling it out and rubbing your fingers over the etched title. “The Picture of Dorian Gray”. You throw your blankets back and crawl into bed, turning on your bedside lamp. The room looks warm, but you’re freezing. Your tears begin flowing again and this time, they don't stop. You miss your friends and your family. You miss having someone to come home to, regardless of who it is.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Joel and you feel the same as you did then. You’re craving his touch, and desperate for him to give you any ounce of attention. But he never does. If you’re ever outside when he is, he never looks your way. He doesn't smile, or wave. He keeps his head low and pretends you aren't there.

Sarah has come over a few times after learning you were neighbors, to get help with homework and you don't mind it. Making small talk with her about her other classes, her interests, and her family. Today, she came over and brought chocolate chip muffins. “I made these with my dad and Uncle Tommy! If they’re bad, it's because Uncle Tommy put way more chocolate chips than the recipe called for.” She says, laughing. “I'm sure they’re great Sarah,” you say, grabbing 2 plates from the cabinet. “How is Uncle Tommy?” you ask, genuinely. You like Tommy. Based on the few times you’ve met him, he seems like a nice guy. Handsome like his brother, but not quite your type. “He’s good! He and Dad just started working on some big project so they’re gone late sometimes…” She trails off. “Sarah, you are always welcome to come hang out if it gets late and no one is home!” You say, trying not to sound too worried. She smiles at you. You bite into your muffin. “Sarah, these are DELICIOUS!” you say excitedly. “Thanks,” she says with a smile. “So how is your dad? I haven't seen him in a while, but the big new project would explain that.” Sarah sits her muffin down. “He’s okay. He went on a date last weekend, but the woman was kinda weird. She came early when my mom was picking me up and started a fight with her while I was standing there.” “A date?” you say to yourself, trying to keep your emotions together. “I'm sorry that happened, Sarah,” you say, looking at her intently, trying to gauge her feelings. “It’s whatever. They’re going out again tonight so I don't think it bothered him too much.” She says, taking another bite of her muffin. “Uncle Tommy told me we could go roller skating so I should get home to get ready. Ill see you at school next week!” she says, putting her shoes on. “Bye Sarah! Have so much fun, and I cant wait to hear all about it on Monday!” you say, as she closes the door.

A date. A fucking date. 3 weeks ago he was practically begging you to cum for him and then stay the night, and now he's going on dates? What a fucking asshole.

*Joel’s POV*

It's been 3 weeks since you last spoke to her. Sarah realized you were neighbors so she's been spending lots of time with you, it's how you get your fix. Tommy noticed your shitty moods and finally cracked what's wrong.

“I knew you'd been seein’ someone! You ain't been that giddy since you met Sarah's mom.” Tommy pauses and begins again “Shes nice, the neighbor girl. What’d you do to fuck it up?”

You grab his collar, picking him up. “Do not ever compare her to Sarah's fucking egg donor. EVER,” you grunt, throwing him down. “And I didn’t do shit. We just weren't right for each other,” you say, walking away. “Let me introduce you to Maria’s friend, Celeste. She's kinda crazy but she's a looker!” Tommy says, laughing again. You groan. “Tommy, I don't need you playing matchmaker” you grunt, slinging his work belt at him, “now get your shit and let's go, we’re gonna be late.”

So much for Tommy not playing matchmaker. Its Sarah's weekend at her mom's and Tommy just informed you that Celeste is on the way. As long as Sarah’s mom is gone by the time she gets here, you think. You put on a pair of jeans, brown boots, and a T-shirt. “Sarah, your mom is gonna be here in 5 minutes, are you ready?” you yell down the hallway. “Yes dad, coming!” she says back. You grab your favorite flannel off the back of the couch.

“Alright honey, I’ll see you Tuesday after school. I have a big day on Monday so you’re gonna stay with your mom for an extra night.” You say, hugging Sarah in the driveway. “I love you”. “I love you too dad!” she replies, opening the door. Before she can get in, a silver Lexus peels up the street and right into your driveway. Celeste.

After an intense and fucking weird argument between your date and Sarah's mom, you both get into your truck. The silence is deafening. This woman is not your style at all, what the fuck Tommy?

The date goes well, so well that Celeste asks to see you a second time. You agree, unsure why. She's not you, Yellow. But maybe it's what you need. A change of pace.

While getting ready for your date, you realize you’re out of shampoo. Usually, you’d say fuck it, body wash can double. But you want to see her, you need to see her. So you throw on your sweats and head next door.

You knock lightly, hoping not to disturb her. She opens the door and your nose is suffocated with her scent. Lavender and eucalyptus. Her hair is lying natural, wavy, and flowy. You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She looks gorgeous.

“Joel? Hello??” she says, obviously annoyed.

You snap back to reality. “Hey. I have a meeting tonight and realized I'm out of shampoo. Do you have any?” you now realize how fucking stupid that sounds. “Are you joking?” she says laughing. You smile. “No, I wish I-” She stops you, and her smile slowly turns into a frown. “You have some fucking nerve coming over here and asking me for shampoo, like we’re friends. You haven’t spoken to me in WEEKS. And then to lie about why you need it?” You look at her, dumbfounded. Like a deer in fucking headlights. “Joel, after your date, don't forget to go fuck yourself.” and she slams the door. Her words were sharp like a knife, cutting deep. You feel tears begin to well in your eyes and hear silent sobs through the door. You walk away before she sees you, also crying.

You call Celeste and tell her to just come to your house, you don't feel like going out. Around 7:30, you hear a car door shut. She knocks, gently. You open the door and there Celeste stands. She's wearing a long-sleeved black dress, with black heels. Her hair is curled and bounces with every step. Again, she's beautiful, but she isn't you, Yellow.

*Readers POV*

“Joel, after your date, don't forget to go fuck yourself.” you say, slamming the door in his face. You fall to the floor behind the door, letting your sobs escape. Not caring if he hears or not. What a fucking time for this to happen. Thanksgiving is in 2 weeks and Penny is stuck in Ireland doing research, your parents are visiting their friends in Spain for the holiday, and your siblings have their own families. You have never felt so alone in your life.

You spent the next few hours moping around the house, waiting for Penny's call. You watched Joel's date pull into the driveway. Her and her fucking Lexus and her bouncy hair and her fucking heels. You head to the fridge to find whatever intoxicating liquid you see first, but then you have a better idea. If he can have fun, you should too. You take a quick everything shower, spritz your favorite all over, and throw on a mini dress with some black heels. You call a taxi and grab your clutch.

The taxi pulls up a few minutes later. “The closest bar, please. One with music,” you say, and the taxi pulls off.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #last of us #neighbor joel x reader #neighbor joel #cliffhanger #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #the last of us #neighbor!joel #joel x reader #daddy joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #my writing #tlou #joel tlou

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tinkaaabutt · 2 days ago

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Heart To Heart (white Ferrari series)

The rain feels colder than it should, like it’s trying to sink into your skin and pull you under. You stand there for a moment, unsure of which way to go. The wet gravel crunches beneath your feet as you take a shaky step forward, then another.

You’re halfway down the road when you hear it—the sound of a car door slamming. You don’t turn around, not yet, but your heart thuds in your chest.

“Wait!” Vi’s voice cuts through the rain, sharp and desperate.

You stop, shoulders tense, but you don’t turn. Not until her footsteps squelch through the puddles behind you, closing the distance.

“Don’t walk away,” she says, breathless. “Please. Don’t walk away from me.”

You turn slowly, the sight of her nearly breaking you all over again. She’s soaked, her hair plastered to her face, her jacket clinging to her frame. But it’s her eyes that get you—wide and glassy, full of something you haven’t seen in a long time. Fear.

“What do you want me to do, Vi?” Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you’re too tired to soften it. “You want me to stay? For what? For more of this?”

She flinches, her lips parting like she’s searching for the right words. But none come.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you continue, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I can’t keep holding on to someone who lets go the second things get hard.”

“I’m not letting go!” she snaps, her voice breaking on the last word. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you fire back. “You’re here when it’s convenient, when it’s easy. But when it matters—when I need you—you’re gone.”

Her face twists, and for a moment, you think she’ll argue. But then her shoulders sag, and she looks away, her jaw tight. “You’re right,” she admits quietly. “You’re right, and I hate that you’re right.”

The admission hits you harder than you expect.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she continues, her voice barely audible over the rain. “I don’t know how to be what you need. But I want to try. I’m just… scared.”

“Of what?” you ask, softer now.

“Of losing you,” she says, her voice trembling. “Of screwing this up even worse than I already have. You deserve better, and I know that. But I don’t want you to go.”

Your chest aches, the weight of her words pressing against you. You search her face for something—truth, sincerity, hope—and for the first time in a long time, you see it.

“I can’t keep chasing you, Vi,” you say after a long pause. “I need you to meet me halfway.”

She nods, her gaze locked on yours, like she’s afraid to look away. “I will. I swear, I will. Just… don’t leave yet. Give me a chance to prove it.”

The rain continues to fall, soaking through your clothes, but you barely notice. You take a deep breath, the ache in your chest loosening just enough to let in the tiniest flicker of hope.

“Okay,” you say finally. “But this is the last time, Vi. If you can’t meet me halfway, I’m gone.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she nods again. “I’ll meet you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You stare at her, searching for cracks in her resolve, but for once, there are none. And for the first time in a long time, you think she might mean it.

“Let’s go,” you say, gesturing back toward the car.

Vi hesitates, then steps forward, her hand brushing yours for just a second. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like a promise.

You walk back to the car together, side by side. The road ahead is still uncertain, but for now, you’re not walking it alone.

#vi arcane #league of lesbians #arcane #vi x reader

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venusswhite · 9 hours ago

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A Thousand Years | Arcane Vi x Fem Leitora

After losing everything, [Name] tries to rebuild her life. But what happens when a ghost with pink hair returns?

notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.

“I will love you ’til the end of time” - Lana Del Rey

You were living with your parents when the war began. Your family lived in a small house on the outskirts of the city. Your mother sold trinkets, and your father repaired them. It was a simple, hard life, but it was a happy one.

Until that day…

It was nighttime when screams and gunshots were heard. The Enforcers were committing genocide in Zaun. You woke up startled, feeling your father lifting you from your makeshift bed on the floor, followed by your mother covering you with a cloth that went over your head.

Everything happened so fast. One moment, you were in your father’s arms amidst the chaos. The next, you heard gunshots too close for comfort and your father shouting:

“Darling!” — a term of endearment he used for your mother.

Curious and worried, you lifted the cloth covering your head, a decision you would regret for the rest of your life. You saw your mother, bleeding, beside your father, who was crying uncontrollably as he tried to stop the bleeding. She was struggling to breathe, each breath coming with more difficulty.

“Come on, Darling! Get up! We can’t give up now!” your father yelled, holding you in one arm while trying to lift your mother with the other.

“Dad?” you called out, crying and scared, noticing more Enforcers approaching.

Your father turned and, upon seeing them, threw himself to the ground to shield you. More gunshots rang out, and you felt a hot liquid hit your skin, followed by a burning pain in one of your arms. Then, everything went dark…

“Eyes on me!” I woke up dazed, seeing a tall, bearded man in front of me holding a blue-haired girl who didn’t seem much older than me.

“It hurts…” I complained, feeling something warm pressing against my arm. When I looked, I saw a pink-haired girl with a sorrowful expression wrapping a piece of cloth around my bleeding arm.

“Can you stand?” the man holding the child asked.

“I think… I can.” I stood up with help from the pink-haired girl.

“We need to move. There’s no time.”

“What’s going on? Where are my parents?”

The man sighed, his gaze saying more than his words:

“I’m sorry, child. I’ll take care of you, alright? Just trust me.”

He then held the older girl’s hand, and she extended her free hand toward me. Reluctantly, I took the pink-haired girl’s hand.

We walked for hours. Along the way, we encountered two boys: one taller and stocky, the other thin. Their expressions mirrored everyone else’s: sad, uncertain, and fearful.

The blue-haired girl was now awake, tear trails marking her dust-covered face. The pink-haired girl tried to stay strong, but fear was evident in her eyes. The two boys looked around in utter desperation.

After hours of walking, we arrived at a warehouse hidden behind a bar.

“Come here,” the man called, making me sit beside him. He removed the makeshift bandage from my wound, which was caked with dried blood and had an irregular hole.

“This will hurt a bit…” he warned, picking up a pair of tweezers.

The bullet was lodged in the wound. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to muffle my screams in my old coat. The other children watched in shock and sympathy.

“All done. Now keep the wound covered, alright?” he asked with a slight smile, and I nodded.

“I’m so sorry this happened to all of you. My name is Vander…”

One by one, everyone introduced themselves:

“[Name]”

“Claggor”

“Mylo”

“Violet… and this is my sister, Powder,” the pink-haired girl added, looking at her sister, who was clinging to her with trembling fear.

“Alright. I’ll get you water and food. Take care of each other. I’ll be back soon,” he said, leaving.

Silence filled the room. Vi and Powder sat on one of the beds, while Mylo and Claggor sat on another.

“Can I sit here?” I asked, approaching the two sisters.

“Sure,” Vi replied.

“How’s your arm?”

“It hurts a little, but it’ll pass. Do you think that man is really trustworthy?”

“I don’t know, but he’s our only hope.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The rest of the time was spent in silence. Shock and fear still held everyone captive.

After some time, Vander returned with food and water for everyone.

“I also brought clean clothes and blankets.”

After eating, I went behind a curtain Vander had set up for us to change. I removed my bloodstained clothes and cleaned myself with a damp cloth, returning to an improvised bed beside a bunk where the sisters were already lying.

Despite my sadness and fear, sleep soon overcame me.

Years passed. The new life was hard, but gradually, everyone adjusted. At first, nightmares plagued us all, and it was normal to wake up in the middle of the night to someone screaming and crying. But Vander was always there to protect us.

He taught us everything we knew about Zaun, Piltover, and the monsters who had killed innocents.

Over time, the five of us grew very close and became inseparable. Though disagreements occasionally arose, we always protected each other — whether from others when trouble found us or from Vander when we got into mischief and knew he’d scold us.

In recent months, I began to experience something I had never felt before. I didn’t know what to call it, but I always felt it when Vi was near me. It was a warm sensation in my chest, as if nothing else mattered except her.

Confused, I decided to talk to the person I trusted most and who always helped me: Vander.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked, sitting on a chair in Vander’s bar.

“Of course, [Name],” he said, sitting beside me.

“Have you ever… liked someone?” I asked, unable to meet his eyes.

“Liked in what sense?” he asked suspiciously.

“Romantically, you know?” I glanced at him, seeing a small smile forming on his lips.

“Ah, of course I have. I lost her the night I found you all.”

“I’m sorry, Vander. I shouldn’t have asked. I really am.”

“It’s alright! Why are you asking about this?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I wanted to know what you feel when you like someone,” I finally admitted, nervously wringing my hands.

“Well… you feel like you always want to be with the person, to keep them safe and well. You might feel shy around them, want to spend the rest of your life with them. You feel many different things, [Name]. It’s not the same as liking a friend or family member. It’s a stronger, more intense feeling.”

“I see,” I replied thoughtfully. “And can a woman feel that way about another woman?”

“Ah, yes, of course. There are no rules for love, [Name]. Love is love, no matter what. But why are you suddenly asking all this?”

“It’s nothing! Just curiosity,” I quickly replied, avoiding the subject.

Before Vander could respond, Powder came running in:

“Vander, Vi won’t give me her candy!” the blue-haired girl said, hiding behind the man.

“That’s mine. You already ate yours,” I heard a familiar voice behind me, and instantly my heart raced and a strange feeling arose in my stomach.

“Powder, give it back to your sister. I saw you eating yours,” Vander said.

“That’s not fair,” the younger girl muttered, sulking as she handed the candy back to her sister.

Vi then sat beside me at the table, eating her candy.

“What were you two talking about?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I quickly replied, throwing a pleading look at the older man not to say anything, making him laugh.

“Me and Mylo are having a dart-throwing competition. Want to join?” she asked, looking at me.

“Sure! Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and walked off, disappearing through the door behind the counter.

“It’s about Vi, isn’t it?” Vander asked quietly after she left.

“What? Was it that obvious?” I asked, worried.

“No, relax! I just know my kids,” he chuckled.

“This feeling is so strange, but it’s good at the same time. It’s so confusing, Vander.”

“You’re still young, [Name]. You don’t have to figure out what you feel right now. There’s plenty of time for you two to explore these feelings. Take it slow, explore them…”

“I will. Thanks for listening, Dad.”

“Anytime, [Name],” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Now you’d better go before Vi comes back and drags you there.”

As soon as Vander finished speaking, Vi appeared, calling for me. I got up, hugged him, and walked toward her.

“What were you two talking about?” she asked curiously.

“Nothing important,” I replied, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, afraid she might find out.

She looked at me suspiciously but didn’t insist.

We arrived in the room where Mylo, Claggor, and Powder were, and soon the competition began. The dispute became intense between Vi and Mylo, both throwing the darts with force, their eyes locked on the target, determined to beat each other.

In the end, Vi won by just two points. Powder and I shouted, running to the pink-haired girl in celebration. She high-fived Powder, still cheering enthusiastically, and then picked me up, spinning and jumping around.

As she spun me, I couldn’t take my eyes off her face—her almost gray-blue eyes, her pink hair slicked back, the small freckles on her face… Everything about her fascinated me. Everything about her caught my attention and awakened an irresistible desire to never stop admiring her.

Maybe… maybe I was starting to like her.

Hey, everyone! I hate using “y/n,” so I’m going with [Name] instead. When Vander talked about the woman he loved, I imagined it being Vi and Powder’s mom 😭, but feel free to picture someone else if you’d like. Anyway, that’s it. Let me know if you spot any typos! Kisses!

#arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #vi x you #violet arcane #arcane #arcane fanfic #league of legends #vi league of legends

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deathbecomesthem · 13 hours ago

Text

Eddie x Fem!Reader smut blurb

1.7K - I found this in my docs, so I guess you guys can have it. I feel like I wrote this for @courtingchaos and it was probably on the old blog.

Rain storm, a picnic, a cemetery, and food play.

---

The hope you’d been harboring that the weather report was wrong evaporates when you wake to the sound of sheets of rain hitting the roof of your trailer. It’s not just raining, it’s pouring, and it has been for nearly a week now. With bleary eyes, you catch a glimpse of the blanket you’d laid out the night before for your date with Eddie and pull the blanket back over your head. It’s date night, a once every other week occurrence, and your plans are ruined. Not that a night on Eddie’s couch with wandering hands and a movie playing in the background is bad, but wandering hands under the star streaked sky was what you were hoping for.

Right on cue, the phone rings at 2, Eddie’s Saturday morning wake up time. You’re still pouting about the rain and ruined plans, but your belly feels warm when you hear his sleep-soaked voice at the other end of the telephone line.

“Good morning, Sugar.” Eddie’s nickname for you, a holdover from your years of friendship, always makes you soft. “We still good for me heading over in an hour?”

“It’s past noon, Baby, but yes. We can run to Family Video to pick up a couple of movies - I’ve got some cash from babysitting last week.” You’re scanning the living room looking for your wallet. You think you have at least a 5 in it, which will be enough for a movie and a bag of popcorn. Maybe even a box of Milk Duds for Eddie.

“No, Sugar. We’ve got other plans this week, remember?” Eddie sounds confused, and you chalk that up to the fact that he just woke up. He probably hasn’t thought about the fact that a picnic on the grass between the river and cemetery won’t work when it’s pouring buckets.

“Edddddie, it’s raining,” you whine to him, “we need an alternate plan.”

“Oh yeah? I hadn’t noticed, Sugar.” his sarcasm is heavy handed and teasing, “you gotta trust me. I know what I’m doing. Get your shit together, I’ll be there in a bit.” He hears you scoff at him - he’s quick to add, “and bring a couple of umbrellas, ok?”

—

You take the silent approach. You trust Eddie as far as you can throw him when it comes to this stuff, but the worst that can happen is you two end up naked in the back of his van. Still a good night. You just want to be with him.

It’s warm enough to have the window cracked open. You sneak your fingers out to feel the warm water slap at your skin and trickle down your palm. You do love the rain. It’s a comfort. The windshield is foggy with the humidity in the van’s cabin. Eddie’s fingers toy with the hole in the knee of your jeans, and he hums along to a song that isn’t playing on the stereo, it’s just the sound of the rain and the vibrations in Eddie’s throat.

You want to be annoyed when the van lumbers up the gravel road alongside the cemetery, because if he tries to drag you out in this rain he’s going to regret it. You can’t be annoyed by him, though. He told you the plan was still on. You let out a quiet, exasperated sigh and give him a sidelong look.

“What?” Eddie’s fingers squeeze your knee along with the question.

“Nothing, Baby. I just can’t believe you think you’re gonna make me get out in this rain.” Eddie’s response is a barely audible breath of a laugh, and another reassuring squeeze.

It’s a slow and bumpy journey, Eddie’s taking you down a narrow path that leads down towards the river. It’s a nice spot, you can still see the gravestones while you sit high on the banks and hear the water ramble below. You sit out here often in the gazebo.

The realization slaps you in the face. Of course. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches your lips spread out into a wide smile. Yes, it will be as perfect as it can be. Maybe even more so with the rain pounding down on the wooden slats above your heads, the water flowing below, and the ghosts tucked into their beds.

“You really couldn’t just tell me,” you grab his hand and start to play with the mood ring on his middle finger, “you let me be a little brat and not fucking tell me.”

“What’s the fun in that, hm? The gazebo is big enough, we should stay dry in there. You won’t melt, will you?”

“Fuck off. I hate your stupid ass.” You laugh at him, and slap his hand away.

“You love my stupid ass, and you better start kissin’ it, or I’m not sharing the treat I brought.” Eddie’s finger is pointing in your direction when he spins the steering will to position the van in a way that leaves you with only a couple of short steps away from the gazebo stairs. “Sugar, we’re eating your little snacks and getting high,” Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a baggie - he tosses it in your lap, “quit bitching and roll. I’ll set up.”

You dutifully do your job and watch Eddie run back and forth from van to gazebo with an umbrella in his hand. He feels the ground at the center of the structure and gives you a thumbs up before laying out your blanket. You smile, watching him carefully examine the edges. He deems it just right before racing back to the van. He opens your door, careful to hold the umbrella over the hood to avoid letting any rain in. “M’lady, will you allow me to escort you to your table?”

You’re sure his back is soaked at this point, but you smile and nod before safely tucking away the joints you rolled into the cup of your bra. He takes your hand, and you both race to the safety of the open air structure. You both kick off your shoes and pull off your wet socks before stepping onto the blanket, and Eddie sets up the umbrella to protect them from the continuing onslaught of rain.

You’re all giggles, eating the cheese and grapes you packed in the small basket. A picnic is still a picnic, even in the rain. Eddie holds up the small jar of honey in the basket and raises his eyebrows at you.

“I forgot the biscuits I made at home.” You tell him, popping another grape in your mouth. “Sorry, Baby. It’s not enough for dinner, I know. We can eat some of the lasagne I have leftover in the fridge when we get back to the park.”

Eddie’s eyes are full of mischief, he opens the lid and takes and brings it to his nose. He breathes in deep, nostrils flaring. A finger dips into amber, and he offers it to you. You forget the grapes. You’re not hungry for them anymore.

Eddie asks you without words, just an offering of his honey covered digit, and you answer with your tongue and teeth. Sweetness and salty skin, your teeth scrape against the lines of his finger’s pad. You hollow your cheeks and suck, tongue working to make sure all of the sticky substance gets swallowed down by your eager throat. Eddie watches you with heavy eyes and an open mouth, his tongue moves in tandem with yours - he’s mirroring its action.

“Is it good, Sugar? As sweet as you are?” You answer his question with innocent eyes looking back at him, a slow nod while your tongue continues its work, sucking his finger into your mouth up to the third joint. “Fuuuuuck me.”

It’s not meant as a command, but you smile and pull his finger out of your mouth. “Ok, Ed. If that’s what you want.” Encased in the downpour, you throw off your shirt, you let your breasts fall from your bra - careful to protect the joints still hidden inside - and take off your jeans. He’s speechless, watching you position your naked form over his still fully clothed one.

Eddie’s face finds its home between your breasts, it’s instinct. This is where he belongs, surrounded by your smell and skin. He’s forgotten the open jar of honey at his side, but you haven’t you dip your finger in it, and run it along your nipple. Eddie turns his head at the action, and you see him smell its sticky sweet aroma. You suck off the residual honey from your finger, and he latches onto you.

It’s all at once. His tongue and mouth work against your skin, his teeth skimming against your sensitive bud in the same way your own teeth moved across the pad of his finger. You feel him bulging through his jeans, and reach a hand down. You pop the button, and he holds the fly pulling it down without losing his focus on your nipple. He’s barely freed before you pull your panties to the side and sink yourself onto him.

Your bodies know this dance, weight shifts, and your rocking together. Eddie hums against your skin. He lifts off his shirt, and runs a line of honey along his collarbone. You’re happy to oblige. Your bodies rock together, skin against skin, sticky sweetness gluing your warm bodies together. Even here in this gazebo, his body knows yours. Your teeth don’t skim the skin of his collarbone, it bites. They gnaw. They bring pain in kind with the pleasure his perfect cock is giving you.

“Oh fuck, mmmm.” Eddie responds to you pulling his skin with your teeth. He likes that, he likes that you need to consume him completely while he’s inside of you. “Sugar, please.” A high pitch whine comes when you begin to fuck him harder. There’s no bounce, just a deep grinding against him, pulling him deeper and deeper.

You move your mouth up his neck to his ear. You want him to hear you. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum. You’re making me feel so good.” Eddie always makes you feel good, especially when you’re sitting on him like this. Face to face, breathing each other’s air, staccato heart beats that match the pulse of your pleasure.

“Me too, Baby. Oh wow, you’re so fucking perfect like this.” Eddie’s gone, and there’s no bringing him back. You can feel him twitching under the feeling of your warmth, and it pushes you into that hazy place. You let go and hold onto him. Giving and taking from each other, while the storm rages on.

Only the ghosts and the fish of the river are a witness to what happens in that gazebo tonight, and they’ll keep your secrets.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

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