#i got like.. no sleep last night does this make sense

[fanaticallyfleeky]

The morning after

Buck x Tommy | wc: 1,2k

if you recognise this, it was indeed already posted on Ao3, but I wanted to post it on here in total as well :)

What slowly wakes him up in the first place is a stubborn beam of sunlight consistently shining on his face.

Tommy tries to bury his head further into his pillow, but it doesn’t help.

It doesn’t make sense, because the only window in his bedroom faces the north and never has sunlight streaming in, in the morning.

The pillow also smells slightly different�� not like his detergent… and the mattress is just a little on the wrong side of soft...

That’s when it all starts to come back to him.

The bachelor party. Being called into work. That beast of a fire that seemed to go on forever. Rushing to the hospital, trying to make it in time for the impromptu ceremony.

That breathtaking kiss.

Evan.

He pries his eyes open, slightly crusty from sleep, and is immediately blinded by the harsh sunlight filtering through the loft’s tall windows. He has to blink a few times before he can actually see.

And the picture in front of him takes his breath away for a second.

Evan looks so soft and peaceful, asleep. Still, in a way Tommy hasn’t seen him yet. Because the Evan he has met so far is a bundle of endless energy. Bouncy and wild, like bubbles trying to escape a bottle of champagne.

God, and he is so beautiful that it makes Tommy seriously wonder how he ever got this lucky.

Long lashes are fanned out on his cheekbones, that are littered with small pinprick freckles running all the way across his nose. Plump, pink lips are slightly parted, soft puffs of air escaping with every breath. There is a little bit of drool on the pillow and Tommy really shouldn’t find it as endearing as he does.

Tommy fights the urge to reach out. To run the tips of his fingers over the pink birthmark that stands out against the pale skin. To run along the strong slope of his nose. To map out every freckle, every scar, and study it like constellations. Until he can find every single one of them in his dreams.

It should scare him. How much he feels. How much Evan makes him feel.

It’s way too much and way too soon.

It should scare him. And yet…

It doesn’t.

It’s thrilling.

He honestly can’t remember the last time he was this eager to just talk to someone, to get to know them, to grin like a silly teenager each time his phone lights up with a new text. Evan fills him with a type of giddiness he normally only feels when he’s high up in the sky.

He walked into the hangar that night with Howie and Eddie, all long legs, blue eyes and a smile that could light up the world. And listen, Tommy has eyes okay? He is not blind. Objectively, Evan is a very attractive man. But that was even before he got to know him. Before he found out how funny he is. And charming. And caring. How Evan has a heart of gold that he wears on his sleeve, for the world to see.

Before Tommy found out what beautiful shade of pink Evan turns when flirted with. How he stumbles and stutters around him, all bravado leaving him with a single wink.

He had been a little sad after that first date, he has to admit. But he knew he had to cut it short if he didn’t want to pressure Evan into doing things he was not yet ready for. If he was going to cut it short, better do it before his feelings got the better of him.

Then Evan had surprised him, asking him to meet for coffee. Asking Tommy to be his date to his sister’s wedding. But it was still so new, fragile and a little unsure. So Tommy was adamant about taking it slow, giving Evan the space to come to terms with all of these new feelings, letting him set the pace.

Which is why Evan absolutely blew his mind when he marched up to him in the hospital lobby with such confidence, kissing him like a dying man savouring his last breath.

It seems like every time Tommy thinks he knows what to expect, Evan manages to surprise him yet again.

And now, this very morning, in this very bed, Tommy knows he’s well and truly fucked. Because he’s falling and he’s falling hard.

After leaving the hospital, Evan had taken him to the station to drop off his gear and gather his things, before driving them both to his loft. Tommy hadn’t objected, a little delirious from both exhaustion and that breathtaking kiss.

They had honestly tried to draw out their energy as much as possible, but had both crashed hard pretty early in the evening.

At that point, he had been awake for over 24 hours and had spent the better part of it straining under the weight of all his gear, trying to contain a vicious wildfire in the hills. And once the adrenaline wore off, Evan had been absolutely drained from all the concern and stress of the whole day. Not to mention whatever chaos had happened the night before, after Tommy had left.

So, when their make-out session started to consist of more yawns than kisses, Evan had taken him by his hand and led him upstairs.

He can sort of remember climbing into bed, but he has no idea at what time they went to sleep. He vaguely remembers a few more soft kisses under the covers and a promise of more, tomorrow.

Now Tommy carefully stretches, without dislodging the arm that is curled around his waist. The display of Evan’s alarm clock shows 7:13 am.

He’s sore beyond belief and there is a headache steadily building behind his eyes that tells him he definitely didn’t drink enough water yesterday, but he thinks he managed to get a decent amount of sleep. He still feels a lingering tiredness, but no longer the bone-deep exhaustion that had weighed him down yesterday.

Settling back on his pillow, he smiles. Evan looks a lot more alive than he did yesterday, but the remnants of a hangover hide in the dark circles under his eyes. If the drunk and illegible texts he received from Evan that night are any indication, it must have been a wild night.

He carefully leans in and places a featherlight kiss on the pink birthmark.

Evan stirs, eyelids fluttering and he lets out a soft sigh, before sinking a little deeper into his pillow, lips curled in a small but soft smile.

“Hey,” Tommy whispers, softly. Afraid that if he speaks any louder it will break the spell that seems to capture them.

“Hmm, morning,” Evan croaks, his smile widens and finally, Tommy gets to see those baby blue eyes open up.

“Good morning.”

Evan reaches and tangles his hand with Tommy’s, mumbling, “what time is it?”

“A quarter past seven,” Tommy brings their tangled hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to them.

Evan stretches with a groan and yawns before he shuffles even closer and curls up against Tommy’s chest, “hmm, that’s too early.”

Tommy chuckles.

“That’s okay,” he presses a soft kiss onto the curls that are tucked under his chin, “we have time.”

He smiles to himself and bites his tongue to prevent spilling something that is way too early to say.

But it’s okay, they have time.

[paracosmicka]

As a trans man I love mpreg as long as it’s not fetishized. I want kids in the future so seeing mpreg is like going oh hey! Another seahorse dad! I don’t get to see myself in media much. It makes me uncomfortable when people don’t separate the 2 mpreg can be fetishized but it’s also a thing a lot of transgender afab go through. I know this is a sonadow account and it’s not that deep lol but thanks it’s cool seeing it :) saying that: more plz 🥹

This actually makes me feel so relieved bc another reason why I’m always hesitant to post pregnant Shadow is I’m worried that it can be seen as disrespectful or that if it might be used for fetishization purposes which isn’t really what I’d like my art to be associated with.

I don’t want to kink shame anyone, as an agender aroace person who does not experience any romantic or sexual desire whatsoever (i think? still learning about the different types of experiences within the aroace spectrum) I feel that I am literally the least qualified to talk about the morality behind mpreg as a kink/fetish.

With all that in mind, I do wanna say that I wish there was more transgender pregnancy representation that wasn’t just fetish. Like just googling “pregnancy symptoms” will give you a wide range of experiences, but when I was trying to look into if there were unique ways that pregnancy can effect trans men, it took a lot of digging so either I’m just stupid and can’t search things on the internet very well or there really isn’t a lot of representation of trans pregnancies.

Although I did recently learn that in the r/pregnancy subreddit, FTM does not in fact mean “Female to Male” and is actually just “First Time Mom” which makes a lot of sense bc for awhile I thought half of the subreddit were just trans guys. Then I discovered there is literally a subreddit r/seahorse_dads and so I spent awhile just reading a bunch of posts in there.

Anyway I’m fine just existing in my own space with sonadow family fluff, but when I share it I get all nervous bc mpreg is cringefail or whatever and I don’t even know if it’s cringe for being cringe or if it’s cringe bc it’s a fetish. Just know that whenever I post any art of any kind, I try to think as little as possible about how people will interpret my drawings, bc at the end of the day I just drew it because it made me happy and thinking about sonadow fluff gives me warm and fuzzy butterflies that I think people are supposed feel when they’re in love but I’ve never experienced that for another person in my entire life and I don’t think I’ll be able to. So thinking about and drawing sonadow is probably the closest I’ll get to that feeling.

And it makes me even more happy when people say they genuinely connected with my art bc then I know that the warm and fuzzy butterflies feeling got through, and I’m just really glad we can all get our little serotonin boost from these stupid gay hedgehogs.

I genuinely don’t think any of this makes sense I’ve spent 3 hours trying to write a response to this ask and then I remembered that I got zero sleeps last night so that’s probably why brain no worky but in conclusion: thank you for the ask Anon it really made my day and I’m spiritually headbutting you like a cat as they say

[shabbytigers]

i got a very superficial cold, the sort i’d have just pushed through life with a few years ago — funny to think that pre-pandemic it was virtuous and responsible behavior to carry on and not complain or flake out of all your plans over a little minor nuisance cold. while i am not at all sympathetic to the “we are still in a pandemic” faction, clearly there has been a major realignment of civic virtue to put relatively more weight on not spreading even minor respiratory crud than on personal tenacity. and honestly that makes sense, like wtf were we thinking

anyway but right as it kicked in we hit a sub-freezing cold snap. and my living room is still the only properly nice warm room i have. the bathroom doesn’t have a heater and is just bitterly icy cold till the hot water does its thing for a bit. my bedroom is usually manageable now what with all the flannel i have in there, but these temps make it a bit marginal, and when one has the crud it’s just like wow okay i would prefer not to

consequently i have lost the ability to go to bed entirely

never one of my best things but i usually make it in for three or four hours at least. nope! literally didn’t go to bed last night

expected i’d be exhausted and have a powerful inclination to go to bed tonight and it would all correct itself, but nope! going to bed (process involving icy bathroom, nb i can never go to sleep dirty and am very much going to need a shower before my next attempt at bed so the prospect involves actually stripping off in there: yikes) still sounds extremely shit. also my brain is once again reminding me that exhaustion and sleepiness are two different things, like butter wouldn’t melt in its smug mouth. honestly doge needs to leave the national infrastructure alone and come and do a reduction in force on my fucking brainworms

anyway, if i have a nervous breakdown on here tomorrow, please remind me i’m running a critical sleep deficit even for me and my emotional stability is unusually unreliable

[nezuscribe]

it's been three weeks since arranged!gojo, your husband, the man you're growing to care deeply for, told you he'd be back.

there was some dispute he needed to oversee with the eastern tribes, something about the land that one was fighting for, but he promised, promised, it wouldn't take over a week to settle.

now it's been nearly a month, and there has not been a single word from him.

your maids told you this was normal, but you didn't miss how they spoke in hushed tones, their brows furrowed nervously whenever the name gojo came up.

you can't sleep in his bed, the smell of him overtaking your senses and making you go insane. you go back to your old room, huffing as you turn around each night, not able to sleep. other times you'd pace the floors, picking at your nails until they bled, wondering about what could've happened, not able to shake off your last moments with him whenever you got to thinking too hard.

"i'll be back," he had murmured in your hair, cradling you close to his chest as he said his goodbyes. his strong arms caged you in, and you had no room to fight him off as you tried to nod.

"bring back some eastern sugar," you said, "i've heard it's good for pies," your words were muffled, trying to cheer up the mood. you heard him laugh, his chest rumbling a little bit, but there was a hint of anxiety laced in it.

"i'll miss you," gojo finally whispered, his men in the background shouting for the others to hurry up.

"i know," you mumbled, craning your head to look up at him, trying to crack a smile that just came out wobbly, "but i won't tell you i missed you till you come back."

he smiled, rolling his eyes as his thumb ran up and down your cheek.

"i promise i will."

well now it's four weeks later and you can't sleep at night, your past words haunting you, wondering if you should've just told him what he wanted to hear in case...

but a couple nights later, when you're sitting at your desk, looking out the window, you hear it.

the clacking of horse hoofs, their scattered neighs.

you almost think you've gone delirious from sleep deprivation, rubbing at your eyes as you stumble closer to the windowsill, squinting your eyes as you look in the dark.

but you see the distant torch, the way it's getting closer and closer to the estate.

you have no care for modesty, pulling a thin robe over your body as you run out of your door, nearly falling down the stairs as you skip every other one, your bare feet hitting the stone with such force that you nearly break it.

the maids and servants around you are bustling to get ready for their return, but you don't care, weaving your way through their bodies as you run out through the entrance. you can feel your feet getting scraped up by the rocks, the cold autumn wind biting at your barely clad skin, but you feel like you're not moving fast enough.

his horse is the first one you see, leading the group of tired and aching men. his black stallion is dark as the night itself, and you doubt he can see you.

but gojo does, and when his eyes find the shadow of your body from across the field he's abandoning formation, his feet kicking the side of the horse to make it go faster.

it's rushed, and the closer he gets the more you can see the damage on his body. the bandages around his arms, the ones that peek out from his tunic on his shoulder. his face is littered with scrapes and bruises, but his smile is blinding.

you run to meet him, watching as he mounts off of the animal, his strong arms throwing themselves around you are nearly crushing and almost makes you stumble backward if not for his support.

there's a heavy silence that follows, and you're glad that his men take the hint to go another way, knowing the dangers of leaving you two out alone on a field.

you can't breathe, your arms so tight around his neck that you're worried you might be choking him. the way he lifts you to get you closer to him would make your body heat up if not for the fact that you know he needs you to be almost one with him.

"i thought you died," you say bluntly, your words said wetly into his neck, your scattered tears wetting his skin.

"i know," gojo murmurs, feeling like he can finally breathe for the first time in a month.

he finds your lips in a messy kiss, biting at your plush skin as you moan, feeling like if he didn't have you near to him he'd probably die. he smells your lavender oil dotted on your neck, the lingering sweetness on your lips from something you probably baked to help with your stress.

his hands lift you up further by your hips, his strength, despite his injuries, still unbridled as you wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers weaving into his snow-white locks as you hear him mumble curses beneath you.

"i missed you," you say against his lips, his feverish kisses driving you to madness. the way you say it with a choked-out sob, your tears mixing with his own.

gojo whines, biting at your neck as he tries to hide his face away, the vulnerability that you bring out of him is something that even his enemies would probably gawk over.

"i promised i'd come back," his voice is nearly gone with the way he says it in between his sloppy kisses on your neck, tugging at the fabric that hides the bareness of your chest with his teeth.

you crane your head to look at him, hitting the back of his head gently with an angered look.

"three weeks late," you reprimand him, almost reveling in the stricken and kicked look he gives you with those eyes.

he goes to say something but stops, shuffling your weight onto one of his arms (he had the right to brag about his strength), and rummages around one of the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a bag as he waves it in front of your face.

you gasp, suddenly climbing off of him as you turn it around with your fingers. he pouts at the fact that you detached from him, trying to wrap his arms around your waist to haul you back up.

"is this...?" you look up at him, new tears sprouting in your eyes as you wail, almost dramatically as your head hits his chest with a thump, pulling him into another hug as you seem to sob louder from when you first saw him.

"you cry more over the sugar than me?" he mutters petulantly, his hand still cradling the back of your head as you just limply stand there.

"don't ever leave again." you bite out, pinching his back as he yelps, but still leaving a searing kiss on the side of your face.

"i won't...my lady," he whispers teasingly, and this time, his promise is undying. he'd be a stupid man if he ever willing left this again.

fuck those state affairs. gojo would rather be home with his wife, watching her bake as she scolds him for eating her batter.

[mostly-imagines]

Doghouse

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka dick’s in trouble…

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied smut, discussion of sex

“Baby…”

You don’t look up from your book as you hum, “Hm?”

“You’re being mean,” he pouts from the end of the couch.

You purse your lips. “If I am, you deserve it.”

His head lulls backwards pathetically, “I don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

You ignore him, scanning over the words littering the page with little thought.

He takes your lack of response as an invitation to climb up the couch a bit, just close enough that he can nibble kisses at your neck.

“Come on, I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

You roll your eyes, flipping to the next page in your book as his hands feel up your waist. He’s apologized a few times already, but you’re not ready to let it go. He’d bailed last minute on your date nights one too many times and you’ve had enough. So if no sex is the only thing that seems to get his attention, no sex it is. You’re not mad, not really, but if you can give him a taste of the neglect you’ve been feeling, well…

He continues despite the lack of acknowledgement, pestering on. “This is deprivation of nourishment.”

All in all, he’s really not putting up his best argument. He could be doing better work, much better work, and you’re certainly not going to let him off so easily.

“I don’t care.” You move the book you’re not really reading up higher, removing him from your line of sight.

Sensing the challenge, he takes the book from your hands, tossing it blindly out of reach. It lands with an unflattering thump on the hardwood. You gawk at him, but he doesn’t notice, too busy minding his own motivating force.

He pulls you further down the couch, so he’s face level with your stomach. The top of his hair tickles you as he kisses below your navel, hands holding you in place firmly by your waist.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your skin, dragging his lips over. “Please, please let me eat you out.”

You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at the wall.

He rests his chin gently over your stomach, peering up at you with puppy dog eyes. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

This pushes him to borderline pouting, huffing, “Come on, you’re not having any fun like this either.”

Yeah, but it’s more torturous for him than it is for you.

His lips edge at the seam of your underwear, and his fingers hook under the elastic as he looks up at you expectantly.

You take a deep breath upon the sight, steeling yourself.

“No.”

He lets out an honest to God groan and drops his forehead against your stomach, whining.

You push him off of you, though he does most of the work of shifting his weight for you. You stand up from the couch and retrieve your book from its place on the floor, flipping through it to refind your page as you move for the bedroom door.

“You’re gonna leave me like this?” he calls out at you, watching you leave.

You shrug, “Take care of it yourself.”

“Myself?” He gapes, like he’s shocked at the audacity of the suggestion.

He stands up quickly, scrambling after you into your room.

He watches as you plop down onto the bed, pretending like you’ve got the concentration to keep on reading.

He pouts in the doorway, both surprised and annoyed with your commitment to making him suffer.

At this point he can take care of you better than he can take care of himself, and God knows he prefers to. So it’s bordering on inconceivable that you could have gotten so mad at him as to take away his privileges to do his very favorite thing in the world.

So he snatches your book straight from your hands again—just as you’d found the right page, too—and holds it up high.

“Dick Grayson!”

You swat at him and try to grab it back, but he’s too quick and too tall.

You kneel on the bed, reaching up in a fruitless effort before you drop your arm at your side, glaring.

He raises his chin, silently imploring you.

“Talk to me.”

You roll your eyes, “I am talking to you. I’m not sleeping with you—”

He shakes his head, “No, you’re still mad.”

“And you think this is what’s gonna help?”

He throws his head back. “You’re killing me,” he whines.

“Good.”

“What’s the plan here? Neither of us get to come ever again?”

You all but throw your head back, “I think it’s pretty fucking bold of you to assume that I rely exclusively on you to come.”

He levels you with a look.

“You do though.”

You gape at him. He says it with such self-assurance, so matter-of-fact that it’s not even a joke. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right you do, but you are nowhere near ready to give him the satisfaction.

So, you did something that you knew would piss him off.

“I—” you pause. “Fine.”

You dip your hand underneath your waistband, prepared to prove your fucking point.

“Don’t—” he bats your hand away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He gawks at you, keeping an arm between your hand and your body. “That’s my job.”

You push his arm, with minimal real effort. “It’s my body!”

“You really don’t want me to touch you? Really?”

He levels you with that look he knows you can’t rebound from, giving you no room to squirm away.

Your chin lowers out of pure habit and your mouth shuts. He takes the opportunity to drop the book on the bed, scooping up both your wrists in one go. He pulls them up above your head and holds you against the bedroom wall.

“What can I do?” he asks lowly, face only inches from yours.

You glare at him, not trying to escape his hold.

“You can fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows as to say, ‘yeah, I am too, buddy.’

“I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me have my girl.”

You tug your hands out of his grasp, and he lets you without complaint.

You huff, looking at him.

“You have to take me out on a date tom—a real date—tomorrow night, the whole night, flowers and everything.”

He’s nodding along with your words eagerly, terms he couldn’t be happier to agree to.

“Even if some vigilante shit comes up—”

“Of course, of course.”

“…and do what you said before,” you say, quieter.

“What did I say before?” he asks, like he truly can’t remember.

“Dick,” you warn.

He smiles, perfectly content to let you off easy.

He leans forward, kissing you deeply but with an air of sweetness.

“I’m sorry I missed our date, pretty girl. I’m so sorry.”

Your shoulders noticeably relax and you take a deep breath, nodding.

“Yeah,” he says as he kneels down on the ground. He grins up at you as he hooks your leg over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of my baby, of course I will.”

☀️ i’m worried the sun will go out soon if you don’t start reblogging fics ☀️

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[hydrobunny]

never took me quite where you do

tags: established relationship, fluff, silliness

a/n: based on king of my heart. (which was also my eras surprise song!!)

--------------------------------------------------------

"you haven't had a girlfriend?" you ask, surprise coloring your voice.

rin itoshi stares at you like you've suddenly got infinitely stupider. "not before you."

"that's," you start, then stop. actually, now that you're really thinking about it, it does make sense. "you know what, yeah. seems about right."

offense glares in his eyes as he leans away from you. "the hell does that mean?"

you raise your brows. "what do you think, rin?"

he fully untangles his limbs from yours at that, shoving himself off of the couch. you protest at his motion - a little halfheartedly, but the effort is there .

standing up to his full height, rin itoshi glares down at you.

you blink up at him, smiling with all the innocence you can muster. "yes?"

"do you know how much fan mail i get?" he grits out. "how many chocolates i've gotten on valentine's?"

it takes quite a lot of effort for you to not start laughing. "i do know how popular you are, yes. you should see the edits on tiktok."

"so why-" rin falters. "edits?"

"go on."

it takes him a second. "i could've had a girlfriend if i wanted to," he says at last. "i just didn't."

you nod, still biting back a smile. "mhm. i'm sure all the girls would've loved you after seeing that personality of yours." you scoot over, offering up the space on the couch again.

rin continues to stare, but you can see his will weakening. "not like anyone wanted to date your lukewarm ass either," he says with a finality.

you snort. "i thought you grew out of that word."

he rolls his eyes.

"also- factually untrue. i've had boyfriends before."

and rin's entire demeanor switches. "what?"

you wave your hand, dismissive. "not like a lot, but. an average amount to have for a high schooler, i think. none of it was ever serious. not like you," you grin.

rin doesn't return it. genuine shock bleeds through his face; he turns on his heel. "i'm going to bed."

"wha- rin?"

forty five minutes later, you breeze into your shared bedroom. your teeth are freshly brushed, your skin lotioned, and you're almost ready for a good night's sleep.

"are you actually still mad about- what the hell are you doing?"

rin freezes, one hand still on the computer mouse. from your vantage point, you can see every pixel on that screen.

"is that my high school boyfriend?"

he turns in the swivel chair, very clearly not in bed. the classic 'itoshi indifference,' as you've coined it, masks itself over his face.

you step closer. "rin. is that, or is that not, the instagram profile of my ex."

he nods, slowly.

"can i ask why you're looking at his profile?"

he begins to shake his head, and then changes his mind (a good choice). but rin itoshi has never been too good at keeping himself calm-

"he's unemployed."

there's a beat of silence.

"sorry?"

"jobless. a leech on society. useless as a human being," rin continues. "a complete ass of himself, basically."

you stare at him. he stares at you. and then-

you burst out laughing. "are you serious?"

rin seems surprised by your reaction. it makes you laugh even harder.

"oh my god- you've been stalking his socials? for the last, like, hour?' you broke your stupid athlete sleep schedule for this?" there are genuine tears welling in the corner of your eyes. "for a guy i dated years ago?"

a little self-conscious now, rin stands up. "i was trying to sleep for the first twenty minutes. after that.." he trails off.

and you slam into him with a hug, still laughing. "i love you so much."

he stiffens at the initial contact, but gives into your touch the moment after. "i love you too?"

you hum into his ear. "they don't matter anymore. you know that, right? they never did- not seriously enough. you're the only one."

rin doesn't reply.

"and i know you could have any girl you wanted. but that doesn't matter to me. because you want me. and i will never get enough of you, rin itoshi."

his voice is a low murmur. "me neither. no one's ever compared to you."

and he presses a kiss onto your lips, and it's better than anything you've ever had.

[vanillabat99]

I think if I am not normal tomorrow, I will simply allow myself to be mentally ill. We will see how it goes.

[entitled-fangirl]

Peculiar.

Cregan Stark x seer!reader

Summary: the reader whispers away, but Cregan doesn’t mind.

Masterlist

…………………………

"My love? What are you doing?"

Y/n sat in the middle of the garden in the dark, something in her hand.

"It's cold, my dear wife. What has caught your attention?" Cregan tried again.

A frog sat in her hand and she didn't let her gaze leave it. "The lead-footed toad will try to grow a hand," she whispered softly to herself.

He let out a soft sigh, knowing she was stuck in her head. He knelt down next to her, looking at the frog. "Are you cold?"

"The lead-footed toad."

"I know," he whispered back. "I know. But are you cold, my love?"

No answer came from her.

He reached up and gently touched her shoulder, and when she flinched instinctively, he was ready to calm her, "Shh. It's just me."

She relaxed at that, as if finally returning to the world. The frog had jumped from her hand when she had flinched and she looked back to her hand and began to frantically search the dirt around her for it.

Cregan reached out and grabbed her hands, "Hey. Hey. C'mere."

She looked back up at him, "It will try to grow a hand, Cregan."

He nodded, "I understand." He never quite did, but he knew better than to try to make it make sense to him. If it made sense to her, that's all that mattered. "You're freezing. Let us return to the warm walls, yes?"

"What if it succeeds?"

He frowned, "The toad?"

She nodded.

He shrugged, "Then he'll be the first of his kind, I suppose. But that's quite unlikely, don't you think?"

She considers his words and eventually nods, "Yes. Yes. I think so."

He smiles and brushes hair from her face, "C'mon. Up."

The two returned to the castle, but not without a last look at the dirt her frog had once been in.

…

The next spell happened in the dead of night.

It was actually quite unusual for it to surprise her in sleep.

She sat up, wide eyed, and in a dead sweat. Her breathing was erratic.

She looked to Cregan who slept like the dead.

The dead.

Her dream. "The fire will drown all but the two deserving of dying and they will claim it for themselves," she whispered to remember.

She pulled the blankets from herself and got up from the bed and moved to the fireplace.

She stared at the flames.

The fire will drown them.

Even she couldn't understand who.

Cregan rubbed his eyes and looked to her side of the bed, immediately frowning when she was not there.

He sat up, scanning the room and relaxing when he saw her, "Sweet girl?" His voice echoed in the quiet room.

She looked over her shoulder to him and wiped her face, "Sorry. Couldn't sleep."

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to do. "Want to talk about it?”

"Hmm?"

"The dream I know you had." He stated. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She hummed, "No. I don't think so."

"Come back to bed then."

"In a minute."

Cregan fell back onto the bed dramatically, "I shall catch hypothermia if my dear wife does not come warm me!"

She giggled, much more eager to join him.

His methods worked, and she was soon asleep on his chest.

…

The third one was sudden.

Cregan was busy sparring in the courtyard with a fellow swordsman, perfecting his skills.

She sat not too far with a book she was engrossed in.

But she suddenly dropped it and held her hands on either side of her head and her face scrunched in pain.

Cregan heard her whimper and he quickly abandoned his sword to move to her, "What's going on?"

She shook her head.

He knew the best method in this instance was to give her space, no matter how much he didn't want to.

She had a very sharp intake of breath and her eyes shot open. "Poison will stain the mouth of the ruler of the sun."

He tilted his head, "Hmm?"

"The… the poison. The sun…" Her voice faded as if uncertainty took over. "The ruler of the sun…"

He knelt in front of her, "You alright?"

She looked to him with a furrowed brow but she eventually nodded.

He let out a soft breath, leaning forward to capture her lips for just a moment.

He pulled away, "Let me clean up, and we'll discuss this 'ruler of the sun'. Yes?"

She let out a radiant smile, "Please."

He couldn't stop a small smile from running across his face as well.

She was such a peculiar thing, but he adored it.

……………………………..

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[syoddeye]

oh ho ho! so simon calls and asks the bartender out...what are we thinking? does he go all out trying to prove he actually isn't a loser and can pull off a suave date? or does he purposefully plan the most off-putting date possible to get back at her for being a pain in the ass?

prev.

i love that you think he's going to call right away. nope.

simon sends some version of you up? after close, then stews for hours when you don't reply. he sits in the dark, phone in hand, grumbling to himself. the cigarette between his fingers burns low, barely making it to the ashtray before he lights another.

he lasts three days. three nights of drinking alone at home, refusing to go to the pub and show his face. the thought crosses his mind to go elsewhere, where it'd take him all of fifteen minutes to find a bit of skirt, but somehow, you've gone and sucked the thrill out of that.

his pride keeps him tethered in place, stubborn to a fault, but even that has its limits. on the third night, the ashtray beside him overflowing, he finally caves. he calls.

"so you can follow instructions. i was worried i'd have to draw you a picture."

he doesn't waste time. "sent ya an address. i can be there in ten." 

"yeah, i looked it up. looks like a classy joint. free wifi." 

"…you comin' or not?" 

"mm, got a policy. can't sleep anywhere lower than three stars." 

"s'not for sleepin'." 

"then let's do yours. got a bed frame?"

simon straightens, caught off guard. that's unexpected—that you're game. he expected more of a fuss, but if you're just in it for dick, things are back on track.

he glances at his bed. the rumpled dark blue sheets are half-pulled off the mattress, still on the floor where he's always kept it. it's never mattered before, but no one's ever been here, either. hotels keep it impersonal. neutral ground. they reinforce the rules. they do the cleaning.

"can't. i'll come over." 

"oof, i've got another policy." you chuckle. "can't have someone over until we've gone on an actual date. you know, to make sure they're normal. or close to it." 

you have no idea.

he imagines sitting across a table in some overpriced restaurant, squeezed into a tiny chair, with loud music pounding in his ears. wasting money on drinks and food. all that just to stare at the tits he knows you're going to hide underneath some layers while you make small talk. it makes his skin itch.

but. if your stupid little 'policies' don't exist solely to jerk him around, he'll earn passage into your world. your place. unknown territory, somewhere to plant a flag and humble you all at once.

forget his lack of a bed frame, he hasn't had a bird in her own bed in ages.

"fine. tomorrow."

"sunday," you counter, and he hears the grin in your voice. "i'm off monday. send me a better address, and i'll meet you there. no french food."

he scoffs. "that, we can agree on."

you laugh, teasing. "bring that with you—the sense of humor. you're gonna need it."

[awearywritersworld]

my very soul demands you

sukuna x reader summary: you introduce sukuna to cuddling and romance novels. meanwhile, he's still struggling to make sense of his feelings for you, despite wanting to commit murder because another man had the nerve to touch your arm (which earns him a lecture from yuuji). w/c: 2.5k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. jealous!sukuna. aged up!yuuji. features yuuji x reader. cursing. banter. hopefully not too ooc for sukuna. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it'd flow much better with the context of the previous two parts. lots of denial and begrudging softness from sukuna here. definitely more fluff than anything tho. this series has been fun to write, so thanks for reading<3 i appreciate reblogs or feedback! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any additional parts. series masterlist // masterlist

when you crawl in between sukuna's legs and curl up against his chest, it's a foreign experience that makes his body stiffen.

he'd been with countless women during his lifetime, but while fucking is one thing, he never once found himself in a position that struck him as this... intimate.

"hold me," you whine as if you can sense his unfamiliarity with such matters.

he rolls his eyes, beginning to wonder if your habit of throwing orders at him is actually some sort of compulsive need. "didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"

despite his irritation, he acquiesces to your demand and once he envelops you in his arms, some of his rigidness dissipates.

you hum contentedly. "isn't that better?"

"it's tolerable," he asserts, his chest vibrating against your cheek.

"whatever you say." tangling your legs with his, you turn your attention back to the movie you've both been watching.

he doesn't understand this... tedious display of affection, nor does he particularly enjoy it... right?

and he only allows it because he can't rid his mind of the image of your tear stained face... right?

yeah, that has to be it. he figures he can endure this, given that he was the reason you were so upset earlier.

it goes without saying that he doesn't realize it when he begins to rub absentminded circles on your back.

and the way the warmth of your body forces his usually tense muscles to relax goes unacknowledged.

when the credits begin to roll, sukuna's wearing an expression of unimpressed disinterest. "that's seriously how it ends?"

you don't respond, so he looks down only to find that you're fast asleep.

"tch. you ask to watch a movie, force me to pick it, and then you don't even have the decency to stay awake." he's not sure why he's chiding you even though he knows you can't hear him, but he keeps his voice low enough that it won't disturb you.

sukuna's spent more time than he cares to admit watching your sleeping form, but this is the first time that it's actually him you're pressed against. it's the first time he can reach out and touch you.

your hair has fallen across your face, so he pushes it back behind your ear gently. the pads of his fingers brush against your cheekbone, a ghost of a caress, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips.

he lets out a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from you. "impertinent brat."

reaching for the remote, he flips off the tv and casts the room in darkness.

upon waking up in the morning, yuuji's confused once he notices that he's on the couch and you're sleeping against his chest.

he may have been half asleep when he arrived home, but he's still positive he went to bed. stretching his arms above his head, the movement jostles you from your slumber.

"mornin', baby."

"good morning, yu," you yawn in response, shifting to sit up.

"how'd i wind up on the couch?" he asks, though he's already got an inkling of the answer.

"oh," you blush. "sukuna kind of made an appearance last night."

"that so? how'd it go?"

you think there might be a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. is he teasing you?

"good," you offer. "we watched a movie."

"watched a movie with the king of curses," he muses before his face breaks out into a lopsided grin. "you sure are somethin', baby."

returning his smile, you lean in and press your lips to his. "hm. says you."

it's not uncommon for you to meet yuuji for lunch if his mission is short and nearby, and today is one of those days, so he eagerly makes his way to the cafe you agreed on.

he's still a few hundred feet away when he spots you through the window, chatting with a man he recognizes as your childhood friend.

his gaze drops to where his hand is wrapped around your forearm as you both share a laugh together.

it doesn't really bother yuuji, he trusts you implicitly and jealousy isn't an emotion that's really on his radar. the same can't be said for everyone, though.

sukuna watches on as well, his thoughts much darker than his vessel's. who does that wretch think he is, putting his hands on you?

you're not his to touch.

"give me control," sukuna growls, his mouth appearing on yuuji's cheek.

"and why would i do that?"

"so i can rip his heart out and gift it to her since he seems so interested in offering his affections."

"duuuude," yuuji begins, somewhat amused. "i don't think she'd be super crazy about you murdering her friend."

"fine," sukuna bites back, well aware that yuuji has a point. "but he can live without his filthy hands, can't he? perhaps i'll pull each arm from his torso—"

yuuji snorts. "you have some serious issues, man."

he can feel sukuna trying to take over and easily curbs the attempt, though that only fuels the king of curses' irritation. "my only issue lies in the fact you're allowing this to happen."

yuuji reaches the door, a bell chiming through the cafe as he pulls it open. "she's a big girl. she doesn't need either of us to dictate what can and can't happen to her."

once you see your boyfriend, your face lights up and you call out his name. you place a kiss on his cheek and snake an arm around his waist in greeting, and the space it puts between you and your friend is enough to keep sukuna from protesting further.

"you two have met, right?" you ask.

"yeah! hey, itadori! it's been a while."

"it has! good to see you, yamada."

"i'd love to stay and chat more, but i have to get going," he states, leaning in to give you a hug which you return. "we should all go out together soon!"

"absolutely not, you deplorable knave—" yuuji slaps a hand to his cheek before sukuna can continue and yamada gives him an odd look.

your eyes widen for a split second and you have to stop yourself from facepalming.

"what'd you say?" yamada asks, sounding a bit hesitant.

"i said absolutely, sounds like an enjoyable night!"

the men exchange a handshake before you and yuuji make your way to a table.

"sukuna, what the hell was that?" you hiss once yamada's out of earshot.

"i don't know what you mean," he responds smugly.

you meet yuuji's eye and he just shrugs his shoulders, but you swear the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

you can't imagine anything good coming from the two of them colluding with one another, but let it go anyway.

opening up your menu, you sigh in defeat. "if you say so."

"what do you mean you'd rather disembowel yourself?" you question the man sitting across from you.

it's becoming more commonplace to see those dark marks adorning yuuji's body during the nighttime hours. you sometimes wonder if he's letting it happen or if sukuna's just getting better at taking over, but you're too nervous to ask.

"do you need a dictionary? there's one over on the shelf—"

"no, asshole. i know what disembowel means! i just don't understand your refusal."

he raises his eyebrows at the obscenity, but doesn't comment on it. "i'm not reading some inane romance novel."

"but brontë's one of my favorite authors!"

"it makes no difference if it was penned by the gods. the thought alone is absurd. can we move on now?"

you don't respond. instead, you cross your arms and stare at the wall defiantly. your face is contorted into an expression that lets sukuna know you're clearly affronted.

"very mature, you silly little girl."

"sorry you find me and my interests so childish," you huff.

"oh, please. that's not what i said."

you continue giving him the cold shoulder, having no desire to argue further, but more than willing to die on this hill.

"fine, don't talk. it's no matter to me," he claims (despite it being the furthest thing from the truth).

as the minutes tick by, he keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye and exhaling dramatically.

eventually, he calls your name in an exasperated tone, and while it makes your heart flutter, you still don't spare him a glance. you just hold the book out for him and to your surprise, he rips it from your grasp.

"you're ridiculous," he grumbles, opening the cover to reveal the first page. "i hate you."

when he glances over to see you're beaming at him despite the insult, he adds (albeit half heartedly), "i mean it, brat."

the two of you sit in silence, each of you reading your respective books. a few chapters in, sukuna comes across the following conversation:

"do you know where the wicked go after death?" "they go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer. "and what is hell? can you tell me that?" "a pit full of fire." "and should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?" "no, sir." "what must you do to avoid it?" i deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "i must keep in good health, and not die."

to your astonishment, you actually hear him chuckle, but when he looks over and finds your self satisfied smirk, any hint of humor disappears from his face in the blink of an eye. your hand quickly moves to your mouth to stifle a giggle.

"something you want to say?" he baits you.

"nope, nothing at all!"

two nights later, he's already nearing the end of the story and you refrain from commenting about how quickly he's made his way through.

you doubt he'd allow your current position if you had— you're laying on your side, your head resting comfortably in his lap, one hand occupying the space above his knee.

when you asked if it was okay, all he offered you was a clipped, "i suppose."

your hair is splayed across his thigh and your eyes fluttered shut a while ago. when he agreed to this, he didn't realize how distracting it'd be. his gaze flickers between you and the words on the page with embarrassing frequency.

he's decided what you call cuddling is absolutely suffocating. how anyone could actually enjoy it, he's sure he'll never comprehend. he can hardly concentrate on the novel that's right in front of him—

"read to me, 'kuna," you mumble, interrupting his thoughts. it surprises him that you're still awake.

he scoffs. "what do i look like? your personal audiobook?"

"you didn't even know those existed until like a week ago," you laugh. "c'mon, pleaaaaaase."

he stays quiet for a few moments, so you're under the impression he may just ignore your request. as such, you're exceptionally pleased when his voice fills the otherwise still apartment.

you think the sound of his voice is comforting, an idea that would more than likely make him cringe, so you keep it to yourself. after all, you don't want him to stop.

at some point or another, he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger whenever he's not turning the page, an action that seems to take place without his noticing.

occasionally he'll pause to ask if you're even listening. it's an odd feeling that blossoms in his stomach when you assure, "mhmm. every word."

as he reaches the second to last chapter, he reads a line that makes you question whether your heart's stopped beating. you're not sure if it's because of the tone of his voice, the words he's imparting, or some mix thereof.

"no—no—jane; you must not go. no—i have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence—the sweetness of your consolation: i cannot give up these joys. i have little left in myself—I must have you. the world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify."

he stops reading, as if he too feels the sense of unease that's invaded the air. against your better judgement, you turn to look at him. his eyes are glued to the page, almost like they're avoiding you, and his jaw is tense.

"my very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

when his gaze finally lands on you, his expression is almost pained. it's a strange contrast to the warm fondness you spot in his eyes.

you quickly push that thought away, however. whatever you believe you may have seen, you're probably just deluding yourself. you know you aren't his least favorite person, but surely he'd never feel even half of that sentiment toward you—

your breath catches in your throat when his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he still marvels at the fact you don't shy away from his touch, that you're usually the one to seek out contact with him.

perhaps the story is not as asinine as he expected it to be. rochester presumes jane will find him revolting, yet she still agrees to be with him, even after his selfishness has been made plain to her. after the sins of his past have caught up to him.

no, no, no.

to be so desperate for some woman's approval, or her devotion for that matter, is despicable. rochester's nothing less than foolish and sukuna isn't anything like him.

but you're certainly like jane, aren't you? fearless, passionate, and determined: all things he can't help but find endearing...

gods, what is this turmoil? it's making him feel pathetic and there isn't an emotion in the world he hates more—

you distract him from his internal monologue when your fingers wrap around his wrist and bring his knuckles to your lips. "you okay?"

"of course," he mutters, pulling his hand away. "just trying to get past all the mawkishness."

"really? you think it's that bad?" you question, the frown on your lips igniting that ache in his chest that appears whenever you're upset.

"it's not terrible," he sighs, realizing there may indeed be one thing he despises even more than feeling pathetic. "although i don't understand how jane is so taken with rochester."

you seem to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "love is weird."

"what a clever analysis."

you slap his chest playfully. "oh, whatever. just keep going, you're almost finished!"

and you're right. he does reach the end of jane eyre that night, but not before you fall asleep on his lap. he closes the book, running a finger down the creased spine and setting it down carefully. it's obvious you've read it several times.

admittedly, he can see why, but he'd be caught dead before he'd ever tell you as much.

left alone with his thoughts, he considers the impossibility of jane and rochester: a charming, headstrong woman and a cruel, arrogant man.

leaning forward, he whispers your name to make certain you're asleep, then places a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"..sweet dreams."

[retrosabers]

𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a little bit of everything. some relationship fluff, a bit of angst (mentions of death and past trauma), very flirty and filthy logan, 18+ CONTENT AT THE BOTTOM. MINORS DNI (body worship, praise kink, pain kink, dirty talk to the nines.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: not me posting something for the first time in a) over a month and b) in 2025 😍😍

it’s been ROUGH in the brain and writing department for me, and this is the best i could come up with right now. i hope i can get back in my real groove soon, i miss writing real bad.

in the mean time, please enjoy my wolvie brain dump. feel free to share any of your own personal hcs in the comments or reblogs!!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

he’s secret tea drinker. always drinks coffee (no cream no sugar; nasty ass) in the morning but also drinks tea at night. though nothing can fully calm him down in the evening, the tea does relax him in some capacity, and logan takes whatever reprieve he can get. plus it was one of the first things you started doing together, so it’s become a part of his routine he can’t be without.

typically the first person up, and the last person in bed. you’d think logan wouldn’t be a morning person, but he’s surprisingly at ease in the early hours. as relaxed as someone like him could get, anyways.

likes to read a lot. he was in complete awe of the mansion’s library the first time he saw it. will often sneak in when no one’s around and read for an hour or two by the window if he’s got the time. when you discover he’s a secret bookworm, you start to leave a book on his desk that you think he’ll enjoy every once in a while. it’s a small gesture logan holds very near and dear to his heart.

can’t remember people’s birthdays or important dates to save his life BUT can recall something minor in a fleeting conversation from a long time ago. also remembers very random useless facts that have actually come in handy on more than one occasion.

if and when logan sleeps, he snores. so. fucking. LOUD, to the point where it can wake people up depending on how close quarters are. he denies it constantly.

likes to make sure his deodorant and cologne have the same general scent (i just know he smells like a sexy ass manly man URGH).

a lot of people hc him as a history professor but i have a hot take: gym teacher logan. not in the typical “let’s run laps and play dodgeball” way, but in the sense that he teaches the kids how to control and utilize their mutations to their advantage (with help from the rest of the xmen of course), and maybe even some light sparring to practice self defense. i personally just don’t see the history teacher thing working out because i fear he would subconsciously be reliving a LOT of trauma.

gets really anxious whenever someone is sick or injured. he’s been gravely reminded before that not everyone is indestructible like he is, and it scares him to see others get hurt in any capacity, because he’s terrified of losing them. the first time you get seriously wounded on a mission? logan damn near wears his boots down to the sole from pacing back and forth outside the medbay so much. he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t focus on anything other than you. time stops for him; and won’t resume until he’s certain you’re going to be okay.

legitimately purrs like a cat if you scratch his head just the right way. he will once again deny this until the end of time, but with less resistance and a much more flushed complexion.

“whatever,” he mumbles into your stomach, while guiding your nails back to his scalp.

hates ANY music made after the year 2000, but anything before that he’s pretty keen on. he’s got his preferences for sure (a little country, some rock, and maybe a bit of bluegrass), but isn’t above admitting that a pop tune is a little catchy from time to time.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

you better not even THINK about ever opening a door for yourself ever again because if you do he’s taking personal offense to it.

he may be a slut in the sheets but he’s a near perfect gentlemen in the streets. i’m talking walking on the outside of the sidewalk at all times, always helping you out of the car even if you don’t need it, carrying your jacket or shoes after a night out, making sure you’re obscured from view if you need to adjust a revealing top; any chivalrous boyfriend thing you can think of, and he’s done it. with suaveness, might i add.

“here honey, gimme that, i got it.”

“hold on a second sweetheart, your strap’s all twisted.”

the definition of “you fell first but he fell harder.”

makes it a point to take you on a “real date” outside the mansion once or twice a month because he knows how much you enjoy getting dressed up for different occasions. whether that be dinner, dancing (yes, if you beg hard enough he’ll go dancing with you), and maybe even a trip to the museum or planetarium.

both the big and little spoon, it depends on the day, but he’s an insane cuddler either way. a human teddy bear for you and only you. this? he won’t deny, not for a second. and he’ll tell anyone who cares to tease him about it to fuck off.

always touching you in some capacity. a gentle caress on the back of your neck, or cold palms sliding underneath your sweater, logan has no qualms about being a bit handsy.

“if your girl looked like this, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either.”

his favorite (and yours too secretly) is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans. there’s something equally sweet and sultry about it that makes your stomach flutter every time. a slightly possessive gesture, that when coupled with a cocky smirk and a shameless squeeze, never fails to drive you wild.

you thought he was a worry wart about your safety before you were dating? it amplifies by a million when you’re together, almost to the point of annoyance because he’s adamant on not letting you out of his sight. eventually after a few arguments and a scolding from charles, you remind him that you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and yes, sometimes he does need to look out for you, just in case.

SMUT:

handsy logan = body worship logan. this man will make it his life mission to appreciate every single inch of your body. he doesn’t care if you’re tangled in between sheets for hours on end. you’re not leaving the bed until you know just how much he’s smitten with every part of you.

pain kink king who will cum significantly faster if you break skin with your nails raking down arms or back. gets an immediate hard on when you slap him in the middle of a dangerously intense argument, and implores you to do it again in a dark, lust driven tone.

to make up for the fact that you can’t mark your territory, with logan’s regenerative capabilities and all, he goes above and beyond to mark his. this man leaves hickies everywhere, and i mean everywhere. your hip bones, your navel, damn near the entirety of your sternum, your neck essentially a human canvas that he gladly paints in brilliant hues of lavender.

he may be a man of few words with most, but with you? logan can never shut the fuck up about how good you make him feel.

“look at you. doin’ so good for me honey.” “y’feel like fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” “my perfect girl. made just for me.”

cannot handle when you return the favor. immediately shoves his flushed face into whatever part of your body he can find and picks up the pace. praise is another surefire way to get logan to blow his load in record time. he thinks it’s a little embarrassing but you think it’s SO HOT.

loves a good tummy bulge OOP who said that

really enjoys sex in the shower or bath. there’s an additional layer of intimacy with it that makes logan particularly warm in the chest. will often suggest round two in the bathroom so he not only has the pleasure of ruining you again, but helping gently put you back together with a tenderness reserved only for you.

the ceo of teasing. loves to watch you get all flustered and squirmy so you best believe he’s teasing the fuck out of you any chance he gets. logan’s got wandering hands and a filthy mouth and that he uses to his advantage both in and out of the bedroom.

“what if i bent you over this desk, right here right now, hm? would you like that?”

“your skirt’s real pretty baby. think it would look a lot better on the floor of my room.”

“been thinkin’ about you all day. gonna let me fuck you real good later?”

aftercare is a learning curve. he’s not completely careless the first time you have sex, but he’s not as caring and attentive as he knows he probably should be. logan was used to quick one night stands, not getting intimate with someone he had romantic feelings for. once he realizes how in-deep he is with you, he takes the time to learn the ins and outs of true aftercare.

* for more smut headcanons, check out my logan nsfw alphabet here*

thanks for reading! <3

[mejaemin]

trained him well - choi seungcheol

wc: 0.8k

summary: chan calls about his relationship problems, surfacing memories of a time where seungcheol used to cause the same trouble

warnings: light cursing, suicide mention (as a joke), fluff, cuddling, pet names

an: i literally just wrote this in like 30 minutes bc i got random inspo for it. i lowk hate doing things like this, including readers from one fic in one with a “different reader” but i felt like it’d be fun to do this pov !!! i hope evb enjoys my coups debut !!!

(this is a second pov to my other work 6 hours !!! i don’t think it’s necessary to read it but things would probably make a little more sense if you did)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

you’re laying with seungcheol in bed, his obnoxiously loud snores filling the room as he sleeps on top of you. his cheeks are puffy and smushed, and his lips are parted with the way he rests his head on your chest. every once in a while he’ll subconsciously snuggle into you a little more when he feels your nails scrape his scalp, soothing him even when he’s in his dreamland.

it’s your boyfriend’s day off, the office going on a company wide vacation for some holiday. all of his friends have off too, and after their late night celebration yesterday he’s been sleeping all morning into the afternoon. you couldn’t complain, knowing that with your allergies to working this fits right in with your everyday routine. his body is heavy on top of yours, going fully dead weight in his slumber but it’s just the right amount of pressure to feel comfortable, lulling you back to sleep.

just as your mind slips from its last bit of consciousness, it’s brought right back by the loud, annoying screech of a phone ringing. sifting through the sheets for whoever’s it is, you pull out seungcheol’s phone. it’s chan who’s calling, and you really couldn’t be bothered to let your boyfriend know, especially when his ringtone didn’t even wake him up. declining the call, you set it back down and try going back to sleep before it rings again.

accepting defeat, you gently push the man’s shoulder. “cheollie, get up..” you whine, just as displeased as he is when he picks his head up.

he squints, looking up at you. “hm?” he looks incredibly displeased, and you almost want to pinch his cheeks at his furrowed brows and pout.

“chan is calling.” you hand him his phone, and he sighs heavily at the disturbance.

“so? i’m too tired for this-“ the call ends, having taken to long to pick up. it starts right back up again, his caller id paired with a photo of him while drunk filling the screen.

“that’s the third time, honey. maybe you should answer?”

he sighs, letting his head fall back down against you before putting it on speaker next to his face. their conversation is brief, seungcheol too comfortable and tired to keep it up any longer than necessary. it makes you laugh, chan whining and panicking as he vents to the elder about his relationship issues. apparently he’s been given the silent treatment, and he’s so distressed he could ‘actually throw up’ over it. your boyfriend asks why, and when he learns how stupid the situation is, yet eerily similar to one he’s been in before, the only advice he can give is “you did that to yourself, man.”

truthfully, the situation is a bold parallel to one you and your boyfriend have been in yourselves. chan ate the last of his girlfriend’s food, and is now receiving the silent treatment among other consequences. though, you’re different now, and your cheollie knows better than to mess with you or get you angry. sometimes, you think he’s actually scared of you when you’re mad. regardless, chan’s predicament makes you laugh, feeling relief that you don’t experience stuff like that anymore.

he eventually hangs up the phone, turning to you. “how familiar does that sound, hm?”

you hum, “it sure is similar to how we used to be, isn’t it?” he nods, “you wouldn’t do that to me now though, right?”

your expression turned serious, and he’s almost too quick to nod and kiss the clothed skin between your breasts in confirmation. “of course not, i’d never eat your food, baby. now, should i actually call his girlfriend, or..?” he trails off, now feeling almost as if he’s in trouble too, uncertain as to whether or not he should meddle in their issues.

you nod, shrugging. “go ahead, i don’t see why not.”

he nods, reopening his phone to search for chan’s girlfriend’s contact. once he finds it, he calls her and reluctantly relays the news. he reiterates as many times as possible that he’s on her side, agreeing that chan is wrong and he’s only relaying his ‘dying message’ they share a laugh, and she apologizes for dragging him into their mess. you say hello as well, laughing about the similarity together before the call ends.

he throws his phone to the other end of the bed, sighing as he finally relaxes into your skin again. “i’m so happy that’s over. i was scared as if i was the one who did something..”

you kiss his crown, his face hidden in your body. “you’d never, though. i trained you well, didn’t i?” you giggle, running a hand over his hair like you would to a pet.

he nods. “after that one time where you literally sent death threats, i nearly had a heart attack. and getting silent treatment? don’t even get me started, not talking to you for three days straight over a donut had me almost killing myself. i definitely know better than to fuck with you like that.” he goes on, already in a nervous ramble at the idea of receiving a punishment like that again. you may have been a little harsh, but that’s what happens when your girlfriend’s buttons get pushed. at least he’s better now, and isn’t making mistakes like his friend lee chan.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coworkers to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, romance, slow burn-ish wc: 6.7k synopsis: a thunderstorm leaves renjun stuck with his relentlessly cheerful, ever-optimistic coworker— you. you're the embodiment of everything he hates, but as the night stretches on, renjun starts to realise that the things that irritate him the most may not be all that unbearable after all. at least, not if it involves you.

There are three things in this world that Renjun hates.

Early mornings, small talk, and thunderstorms.

He must have done something super horrible in his past life, because it's barely even 3pm, and Renjun has had to go through all three of the aforementioned in that exact order.

He wasn't even supposed to come in to work today, but Donghyuck had called in sick (Renjun finds that hard to believe) and he was the only other person on the roster who knew how to make a Toasted Caramel Cloud Latte. Obviously, that wasn't a good enough reason for Renjun to willingly sacrifice his much-needed sleep, and it seemed that Donghyuck knew that too, because not only was he quick to promise Renjun to cover him for his next shift, the boy had also vowed to chip in to buy the new set of gouache paints he had been eyeing for so long.

That was what got Renjun out of bed, albeit begrudgingly.

The last thing he needed was an extra factor to contribute to his already-terrible mood, but that was what he got anyway when he stepped into the café, only to be met with you.

"Morning, Renjun!" You chirped from behind the counter as you dried down a mug, the café already prepped for opening— you liked to take your time when doing the opening duties, and you found that coming in earlier helped avoid any unnecessary rushing on your end.

Renjun didn't say anything, opting to shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the ceiling. You didn't miss the tick of his jaw as he trudged towards you wordlessly, letting his bag fall from his shoulder to the shelf beneath the cash register.

"You know how to make a cloud latte," he muttered under his breath as he put on his apron, securing it tightly with a double knot behind his back. "Why am I here?"

Despite his less-than-enthused response, you grinned. You've been working with Renjun long enough to know that he's a little bit of a grump, so you didn't take his moodiness to heart.

"Hyuck's your best friend. It would make sense for him to ask you instead of anyone else," you reasoned lightly. "Plus, having company isn't so bad, is it? You'll be out the door before you know it!"

"Citizens are advised to stay indoors..."

Renjun lets out a groan as he lets his head hit the cabinet behind him. It hurts, but not as much as the migraine that's already beginning to form in his temples. And as if to add insult to injury (no pun intended), the sky lets out yet another guttural rumble, reminding him once more of his ill-stricken fate.

"I don't think Seoul's had a downpour this bad in ages," you remark from somewhere at the dining area. Renjun couldn't tell where exactly you are; he had slid down to the floor when he decided to accept his fate fifteen minutes ago, and his only view since are the bottles of syrup and unopened bags of coffee beans under the espresso machines.

And as if to add even more insult to injury, the two of you are the only ones left in the shop. With it being a Tuesday afternoon, most of your regulars are either at work or school. Renjun has never liked working during the rush hour, but God does he wish for that to be the case now.

He looks up when he sees your head pop above the counter, raising a brow at the smile on your face. He knows how awfully cheery you are, but even in a time like this? You must be crazy, he thinks.

"Isn't this nice? I never knew this café could get any cozier."

"Nice?" Renjun scoffs as he finally gets to his feet. "What about this is nice? We're stuck in, I don't know, what might as well be a Cat 5 hurricane, and you think it's nice?"

You roll your eyes, seemingly unbothered by his sharp tone. "You're so dramatic! I've been in one, you know? While I was on vacation in the States. It was a Cat 2, I think, and I promise this doesn't even come close to that! I mean, as long as we're not asked to evacuate, we should be fine-"

Renjun lets out a loud tsk, cutting you off as he unties his apron rashly, the fabric crumpling in his hand.

Your eyes widen when you register his movements. "You're not actually planning on leaving, are you?"

Renjun scoffs dryly in response. "You think I have a death wish?"

"Honestly? I could never tell when it comes to you."

He glares at you.

You quickly round the counter, successfully trapping him before he could escape to the break room. "Look, I'm sure it won't be too bad! Let's just continue to wait for updates. Coffee?"

"I hate coffee," he deadpans.

"You literally work in a café!" You laugh airily, moving to the teabag jars beside the espresso machines. Despite the heater being on, the coolness from the outside is starting to seep in, and you're sure Renjun could feel it too.

He doesn't say anything but huff under his breath as he leans against the cabinets behind him, taking out his phone from his back pocket. You take it that he's done with the conversation.

For a while, it's silent, the only sound apart from the tinkling of your metal spoon the harsh crashing of raindrops against the window panes outside. You think it's calming, but Renjun seems to think otherwise when you see him flinch from your periphery at the sudden flash that illuminates the room, soon followed by a loud boom of thunder.

Instinctively, you turn to him, but Renjun keeps his eyes fixed to his phone, his lips downturned into his usual frown.

"Did you know that lightning is hotter than the surface of the sun?" You remark, crossing the distance towards him with the mug of tea in your hands. Renjun looks up from his phone at your question, his stare blank, but his right brow raises slightly when he realises what you're offering.

He doesn't make the move to accept the mug as he pockets his phone, opting to cross his arms instead. "What are you doing?"

You tilt your head. "Huh?"

He nods towards the steaming mug in your hands. "What are you trying to do?"

"You said you don't like coffee, so I made you tea instead! It's Lemon Balm, known to reduce anxiety. It could also improve one's mood-"

"Yeah, so long as I'm still trapped in here, that's not gonna happen," he mutters, turning to face the window outside.

The rain is still as relentless as ever, the skies dark and gloomy despite it being daytime. If it was any other day, Renjun would have already been out the door, making his way home. A regular eight-hour shift is already treacherous enough on it's own— an eight-hour shift with you, while it's raining, on top of that, has got to be one of the worst things that's ever happened to Renjun in a while, which says a lot considering he's literally living in the same timeline as Lee Donghyuck.

Renjun turns to steal a glance at you, no longer at his side as you busy yourself with doing the dishes. As if just now never happened, you're back to humming to yourself, the song only sounding vaguely familiar to his ears. The cup of tea you made him is left abandoned on the counter, and for a split second he feels guilty for having not accepting it earlier.

You see, it's not like Renjun hates you. He's just indifferent, and that makes a huge difference. He's someone who prefers to keep to himself, a concept that you can't seem to fathom for some reason, and he finds your overtly-positive attitude equal parts annoying and draining. Renjun doesn't hate you— he just hates everything you embody, and that's enough to make him stay away.

"Look what I found!"

The last time Renjun heard your voice has to be around a few hours ago, when he decided to move from the counter to one of the couches in the dining area. It wasn't the most ideal considering the floor-length windows still gave him the perfect view of rain that he hated so much, but his legs were beginning to hurt from standing for so long and he didn't really want to sit on the floor and deal with your small talk any longer.

You must have gotten the hint when you decided to leave him alone, retreating to the break room to do God-knows-what— based on the grin on your face now, Renjun has a feeling that he's going to find out very soon.

You bound towards him, settling next to him with something in your hands. Your eyes instantly land on the sketchbook on his lap, but before you could say anything, like utter out a compliment on his drawing, Renjun snatches the pad away from your sight.

"What?" He grunts, cheeks feeling slightly warm for some reason. He had abandoned his phone some time earlier, deciding to peruse his sketchbook to pass the time. It was a good thing he brought it out everywhere he went— as awful of a situation he's stuck in, at least he has something familiar to keep his sanity in check.

Your grin grows wider (Renjun wonders how that's even possible) before you set a box between the two of you.

"I was bored, right? So I figured I'd clean out the break room to pass the time, and I found this! Johnny must have left it here and forgot about it."

Renjun studies the blue box, the words HALLI GALLI staring back at him in bold, yellow font. Oh, hell no. You're the last person he wants to play a card game with— not just because you're you, but also the fact that he just doesn't fare well with games in general.

It's not like Renjun is bad at them— if anything, it's quite the opposite, but the last time he played Halli Galli, he had almost gotten into a fistfight with his friends (he had to receive a kiss penalty from Donghyuck even though he won because Mark kept making up rules as they went along). Needless to say, all their game nights now require the presence of a moderator (not like that has done much anyway considering Jaemin hates intervening in literally anything ever, so Renjun doesn't know why they still try).

"I'm not playing this with you."

"Aw, why not? It's fun! Even for serious people like you," you tease, but Renjun doesn't laugh. Ignoring him, you continue, "we could make the most of this quiet time together."

"Nothing about today has been quiet," Renjun mutters. He's pretty sure you heard him, but you simply brush it off as you open the box, letting the cards fall on the sofa while you place the bell in the middle.

Renjun huffs, knowing he isn't left with a choice. You're adamant, he realises, and even if he weren't to give in now, he knows he'd have to eventually, and he'd rather deal with this now than later on.

You start the game, putting down a card of two coconuts before you glance at Renjun, waiting for him to complete his turn. He does the same (albeit much less enthusiastic than you), his card flipping to the other side to reveal four strawberries.

The game continues on that way, with you practically at the edge of your seat as you anticipate every next move. You had just put down three bananas, and your eyes are fixed on Renjun's hands as he slowly flips his card to reveal... two bananas.

You yelp, palm quickly outstretching to hit the bell, and despite Renjun's obvious disinterest in the game (or so you thought), you're surprised to learn that he's just as quick, his hand clashing against yours as you fight to ring the bell at the same time.

"I definitely got that one!" You proclaim proudly, to which Renjun scoffs.

"No way, you're barely even on the bell!"

"Nuh-uh, look! Your hand is literally on top of mine!" You wriggle your fingers for good measure, causing Renjun to look down at your hand— both of your hands, which are still on the bell. You were right; while most of your palm is covering the bell, only the tips of his fingers are touching the metal surface, the rest of his skin resting idly on the back of your hand. He's never really noticed how tiny your hands are— it's not like he's that huge of a guy to begin with— and the thought somehow brings an unexplainable flush to his face.

He quickly removes his hand, carding through his deck for the sole purpose of having something to do before passing you a card. "You just got lucky," he mutters, clearing his throat.

You giggle. "No, I'm just that good," you sing, waving the card mockingly in front of his face before putting it together with your deck.

Renjun rolls his eyes. You remind him so much of Donghyuck; it's a wonder how he isn't your best friend.

"I used to play this game a lot when I was younger," you quip randomly in the midst of the next round. You do that a lot, Renjun realises, stating facts he didn't ask for when it gets too quiet. It used to leave him not knowing how to react, but if there's anything Renjun has learnt about you in this limited time you've spent together, is that you don't need a response from him to continue talking, so he doesn't say anything.

"I'm an only child, so visiting my grandparents in Jeju was the only time I'd get to hang out with my cousins. We'd do everything together— even stay up late and wake up early the next morning so no time would be wasted. It was a wonder how we never ran out of things to do," you chuckle to yourself, fiddling with the cards in your hand.

"One time, it started to rain super heavily— kind of like right now, actually— all while we were cycling outside. Instead of seeking shelter, we decided to play in the rain. We got home freezing our toes off and I fell sick the next morning, but it was so worth it. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything else," you trail off softly, and Renjun doesn't miss the twinge of longing in your voice. At this point, the game had been long abandoned, your attention now fixed on the rain outside and Renjun on you. You turn to him, the fond smile still playing on your lips, and that is what causes him to look away, only then realising that he had been staring.

"What about you?"

Renjun's brows knit in confusion. "Huh?"

"You don't seem to like the rain very much."

"Yes, because it inconveniences people. Kind of like the situation we're in right now, don't you think?" His tone comes off as a little snappy, but before Renjun could regret it, you're already beaming at him in response. He wonders if you're ever capable of any other emotion apart from happiness.

"Sure, but look at where it brought us! Two friends, bonding, towards becoming even better friends!"

Nevermind. He doesn't feel bad anymore, not when he remembers that this is who he's dealing with right now. Plus, the term friends is a little bit of a stretch, isn't it? He doesn't know anything about you apart from the fact that— well, you're an only child and that your grandparents live in Jeju. He doesn't even know your last name, and he'd like to think that that should be the minimum requirement before considering someone a friend.

He rolls his eyes as he lazily throws his last card, ready to wrap up the game, only to perk up when he sees his lone strawberry face-up with four of yours. Quickly, he reaches forward to ring the bell, grinning in triumph when he realises you hadn't gone head-to-head this time.

"A-ha! I win!" Renjun smirks proudly, too caught up in his victory to realise that he's smiling. It falters when he notices you staring at him— not in defeat, but something much... softer. It looks similar to when you were recounting your memories with your family in Jeju. It looks like Jaemin when he's scrolling through pictures of his three cats in his gallery. It looks like Mark... when he's on FaceTime with his girl whenever they do long-distance.

Suddenly, Renjun could no longer hear the rain thumping harshly against the window next to him. He could no longer see the lightning that comes in flashes, nor does he flinch at the thunder that follows. Only two words form in his head:

Oh, shit.

lee donghyuck [3:41pm] yowww 🔥🔥🔥 [3:53pm] r u alive? lol [4:02pm] wait no like actually r u???? [4:22pm] pls tell me ur sfae omg im gonna start sobbinf and cryin rn dont evne [4:46pm] HUANG RENJUN [5:12pm] NAWWW we really lost an angel today.... jun i hope ur looking up at us 🙏🙏🙏

huang renjun [5:24pm] UP???

lee donghyuck [5:24pm] oh hey lol [5:24pm] wyd

Renjun utters a curse under his breath as he switches to his phone app, bringing the device to his ear immediately after he dials Donghyuck's number. It rings twice before the boy picks up.

"Injun-ah!" Donghyuck's voice is hoarse— so he wasn't lying about being sick. That doesn't make Renjun any less annoyed, though. "I was so worried-"

"Cut the shit, Hyuck. Did you know?"

Donghyuck is silent before he replies, as though carefully choosing his next words. "... Know what?"

"That she likes me."

"That who likes- oh my God. Did she tell you already?" If it's even possible, Donghyuck's already-naturally nasally voice sounds even more annoying now that he's excited while sick.

"What?" Renjun hisses into his phone, glancing around the room to make sure he wasn't too loud. Granted, he's currently alone in the men's room and he's 90% sure you aren't outside eavesdropping, but he could never be too careful. "So it's true?"

"I mean, only because she was so fucking obvious," Donghyuck snickers before he breaks out into a fit of coughs. "I'm surprised it took you this long to notice."

Renjun groans. "How the hell was I supposed to know? She talks to everyone the same way!"

"Dude, have you seen the way she looks at you? It's like when Jaemin looks at Luke, Lucy, and Lu-"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it, alright?" Renjun grumbles. "Shit, what should I do now?"

"Um, nothing? It's not like you're even supposed to know that she likes you," Donghyuck quips plainly. "Dude, why are you even freaking out? Wait- do you like her back?"

"No!" Renjun exclaims, a little too quick for his own liking. Maybe it's because he could practically see the teasing smirk on his friend's lips, or maybe it's just the suggestion that sounds so fucking absurd he had to shut it down immediately. "It's just- look, I've been nothing short of mean to her this entire time so I kinda feel bad, alright? Why would she even like me like that? I mean- is she some sort of masochist, or something?"

Donghyuck guffaws, clearly not about to let his embarrassing stuttering slide. "Okay? And why are you so worried? Since, you know, you don't like her like that and all."

"You're hopeless," Renjun mutters, not bothering to bid Donghyuck goodbye before he hangs up. He should've known that the boy is the last ever person he should seek advice from; Jaemin would have made for a better candidate.

But calling Jaemin now would only be suspicious, and Renjun knows it would only be a matter of time before you would knock on his door to ask if he's doing alright— because that's just who you are as a person.

Huh, maybe he does know you better than he thought.

Renjun has long given up hope that he'd be going home tonight. The thunderstorm is still as relentless as ever, the skies growing even darker now that the sun has set. The café is bathed in a warm light, and under a different circumstance he would've found it cozy.

You're situated behind the counter now, probably having moved there when he was in the restroom. Instead of going back to the couch, Renjun finds himself heading towards you. He doesn't know why.

"Forecast says the rain won't stop until morning." You don't look at him as you say this, and Renjun quickly notices the two cups of instant noodles you're currently busying yourself with, the rising steam swirling lazily in the air. You only turn to him once you're done mixing the noodles, a sympathetic smile on your face. "Looks like we'd have to stay the night."

"You sound oddly sad for someone who claims to love the rain." Against his better judgement, the words slip out of his mouth. Renjun thinks it must have something to do with his conversation with Donghyuck earlier, because why does he feel like he's being weird all of a sudden?

You merely shrug, handing one of the cups to him. This time, he accepts it, and Renjun tries not to flinch at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I still do! If I could, I'd run outside right now and play in the rain, but the news just issued a lightning alert and I'd rather not risk getting struck, you know. Besides, staying inside isn't all that bad," you quip lightheartedly, a small grin on your face as you bring your chopsticks to your lips, blowing on your noodles lightly.

Renjun doesn't say anything, his brows only furrowing at your response. How is it that you're still so cheery even after everything that's happened? It's as though you didn't just find out that you're literally stranded here with no way home until the next morning.

The room illuminates momentarily when thunder strikes, and this time, Renjun does flinch. If he wasn't already holding on to his cup of noodles so tightly, it would have already spilled all over him. Clearly, you notice, and you don't look away quickly enough to act like you didn't.

"You know, I've learnt recently that a lightning bolt is only as wide as your thumb, but it could stretch on for miles," you say as you swallow your food, showing a thumbs-up as you grin at him playfully. "It's kind of crazy, right? How something so small could be so powerful?"

Renjun clenches his jaw, shutting his eyes momentarily. "Alright," he mutters, placing his cup on the counter. "Why do you keep doing that?"

You raise your brows, lowering your hand. "Doing what?"

"That. Every time it gets loud and I- I startle, you tell me some random fact, as if it's going to magically drown out the thunder."

"Well, it works, doesn’t it? It’s my secret technique to distract you! And think about it this way: every time it thunders, I get to share a cool tidbit with you. Like how lightning can strike the same place twice!”

"Yeah, because that makes me feel so much better," Renjun mumbles, though he finds that the edge in his voice has softened.

"Oh, relax." You roll your eyes jokingly. "Lightning only often hits tall structures like trees or skyscrapers, so you’re safe here with me.”

He scoffs. "Tall? Is that a jab?"

You gape, and you fear that you've struck a nerve within him. "N-No! I mean, I'm just saying! You're probably just not tall enough to worry about it, unless you're like, I don't know, Yao Ming or something," you start to ramble. "Even then, did you know that the tallest man in the world is a whole foot taller than him? I guess he would have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning, then, wouldn't he? Or not, considering, well, you know, he's dead. I don't-"

You're cut off when you feel a palm cover your lips, and your eyes widen at the contact. Renjun stares at you, unimpressed.

"You," he starts. "Talk too much. You know that?"

With his hand still over your mouth, you're unable to reply— even if it wasn't, you doubt you could, anyway. His skin against yours brings a warmth to your neck and cheeks, and you could only hope he couldn't see how bright red you're sure you are.

You nod your head slowly.

Renjun scoffs, finally dropping his hand as he glances to the window behind you. If you weren't already staring at him so intently, you would've missed the slight upturn of his lips. "Wow. So not only am I terrified of the storm, I'm short, too?" He shakes his head, half-amused.

"Hey, you said it, not me!" You exclaim defensively, feeling much more relieved now that you've seen him smile. You wonder if he's aware of how pretty his smile is. "Though for the record, I think you're the perfect height!" You pause, "f-for dodging lightning, of course!"

Renjun didn't like how the first half of your sentence made his heart beat faster. If only he were any closer, he'd hear your heart beating just as fast, too.

"You kids hang on tight, alright? There are blankets in the break room if you need them— and keep me updated!"

You've been in contact with your boss since the lockdown announcement hours ago, and despite your last message telling him that you and Renjun are alright, it seems that it's just in Johnny's nature to be overly-concerned as his worried face now flashes on your screen.

"We're alright, Boss, we promise!" You say for the umpteenth time. "This shop's stable enough to withstand a strike or two I'm sure, so we'll see you tomorrow morning!"

"Don't joke about that," Renjun hisses, nudging your arm with his elbow. He turns to the screen again. "We'll be sure to give you hourly updates."

At this, Johnny seems a little more at ease. You bid your boss goodbye, and the café soon falls into a silence, with only the humming of the lights and distant rumbling in the skies to keep you company.

"So... should we get ready for bed?" You ask, slapping your thighs as you stand up from the couch. For some reason, it feels awkward. You've long grown accustomed to Renjun and his lack of words, but somewhere along the way today, it seems that the air between you two has shifted— for better or for worst, you couldn't really tell— and you're not sure if you could salvage it.

You've always liked Renjun— of course you have— but today, it feels more impossible to contain your feelings with nobody else around. You like to think that you were good at hiding it all this while (despite what Donghyuck says), but right now, you're not so sure if you could spend a second longer with Renjun without accidentally blowing your own cover.

"I'll go grab the blankets," he says quietly, snapping you out of your reverie before ushering away to the break room. You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, turning around to face the couch. Surely, your feelings could wait, because right now, there's only one thing that matters more: your sleeping arrangement.

You bend down to grab the couch by the armrest, pulling it further towards the middle of the dining area. With it being originally situated right by the window, you figure it wouldn't make for such an ideal (or safe) makeshift bed.

"What are you doing?"

You huff, returning to your original height to see Renjun by the door of the break room, a bundle of plaid blankets in his hands. He has a brow raised— you notice he does that a lot when looking at you— and you laugh meekly.

"Just, you know. Wouldn't wanna get struck by lightning, or anything like that."

He rolls his eyes (again, something he does a lot when it comes to you) as he makes his way towards you, letting the blankets fall on the sofa. "You can take the couch. Probably should lay one of these out first, though. Not sure how many butts have been on there."

Usually, you would have laughed at his comment, but this time, you find yourself tilting your head in confusion instead. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

Renjun shrugs. "The chair works fine for me."

You frown. Taking one of the blankets, you spread it out before letting the fabric fall over the couch. "The chair? There's no way you'd be comfortable like that! Look, the couch is big enough for the both of us. We'd have to stay seated, of course, but that's better than sleeping in a chair, right? Or would you rather we take turns?"

Renjun scoffs. "What? We're not in an apocalypse. There's no need for night watch."

Still, you stall, and it causes him to sigh. Renjun steps towards you, gently planting his hands on your shoulders before guiding you down onto the sofa. "Gosh, you're stubborn. Just take the couch, alright? It's not like I'm planning on sleeping, anyway."

The last part of his sentence comes out in a low murmur, but you still catch it.

"What do you mean you're not planning on sleeping?" You echo, and based on the flash of panic that crosses his face, you're sure he hadn't mean to let that one slip.

"I mean, with the storm and all," Renjun explains stiffly, glancing away. "I'm just saying, there's no way I'd be able to sleep with all that noise."

You gape slightly before your lips transform into a grin. "Could I interest you in another fun fact, then?"

Renjun groans loudly, and you find yourself giggling at his response. And when you hear the low chuckle that escapes his lips, you find your heart swelling at the sound of his laugh.

"Seriously, let's just share, alright? Look, I'll even stay up with you! I won't talk if you don't want me to, though."

Renjun finally gives in, sitting at the other end of the couch. "When has that ever stopped you?"

Noting the lack of bite in his voice, you grin. "Touché."

Eventually, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and for the first time in a while, you don't feel the need to make conversation. You've never been one to be able to stay quiet for very long; clearly, Renjun is someone who does, and today, you learn that it really isn't all that bad.

Renjun steals a glance towards you, but you have your eyes fixed on the rain outside, a small smile still tugged on your lips. It looks like you're watching a movie, the floor-length windows a giant movie screen, and the flashes of lightning the different scenes bouncing off your features. He must have missed the thunder that comes afterwards, only realising it when you turn to him with that stupid, pretty smile still on your lips.

"Uh," Renjun stutters, having been caught off-guard at the sudden eye contact. He quickly looks away. "You don't have to do this."

You tilt your head. "Do what?"

"Stay up with me. You should get some rest."

You laugh, and Renjun wonders if it's always sounded this beautiful. "Don't be silly! I don't mind. I know you're gonna chide me for saying this, but it's kinda nice. I can't remember the last time I stayed up to watch the rain," you pause before turning to him. "You're probably gonna hate me forever for making you endure both a thunderstorm and my chatter in one night," you say teasingly.

"That's not true," he says quietly, only belatedly hoping that you hadn't heard him. Clearing his throat, Renjun turns to his right where his messenger bag lies, taking out his sketchbook he had haphazardly stuffed inside earlier. He flips it open, feeling your curious eyes on him as he looks for the page he had been working on.

"The rain looks better on paper for me," he explains awkwardly. "You know, since we're on the topic of likes and dislikes."

Renjun feels you scoot towards him, and he hates that he could feel the warmth emitting from your side even despite the blanket that envelops your shoulders.

"That's so pretty," you say in awe as you study the drawing. Despite it being so simple, nothing but a rough sketch of a window pane covered with rain drops, you still find yourself marvelling at the intricacy of it all. You could barely even write a whole essay legibly, yet here Renjun is, crafting a whole masterpiece with nothing but a blue ballpoint pen. "I wish I had an ounce of your talent. You're amazing, Renjun."

Even though he's no stranger to getting compliments for his works, it somehow feels different coming from you. It's probably because of how intimate it is— you and him, cramped on a couch in a barely-lit café with your arm pressing into his side— that's all there is to it, right?

But as he turns to you, taking in the stars that seem to dance in your eyes and the pink hue that dusts your cheeks even in the dark, Renjun starts to wonder if maybe, it's more than that. If maybe, the way his heart is stuttering isn't because of the setting, but you— only you.

With the way Donghyuck's question from earlier still plays in the back of his head like a broken record, Renjun knows that it's the truth.

✦ ✦ ✦

With it being late into the night, the two of you lapse into silence, too tired to keep a conversation going, but still very much awake— as though under an unspoken agreement to not fall asleep.

The rain has reduced significantly and the thunder has lessened, nothing but an occasional low rumble in the distance, but every now and then you'd still feel Renjun tensing from next to you.

“You know, statistically, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than win the lottery,” you mumble sleepily, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Renjun lets out a soft chuckle. “Comforting,” he replies, though there’s no real edge to his voice. “So, basically, I’m doomed.”

“Not while I’m here,” you say through a yawn. “Consider me your good luck charm.”

Renjun shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his expression now, something warm and unspoken passing between you. The couch creaks slightly as you both shift to get more comfortable. Your cheek brushes slightly against his arm, but Renjun doesn't pull away. In your half-conscious state, you barely feel his arm circle behind you, pulling you closer towards him as he guides your head to rest on his shoulder.

"Then I guess I'd have to keep you around for every storm."

Click.

That's the sound you wake to, the sun that hits your eyelids being the second thing to rouse you from your slumber. You stir, your cheek brushing against something soft that only makes you want to sleep even more, but the sound of suspicious giggling causes you to open your eyes.

Your bleary vision lands on Donghyuck, who's currently standing before you with a cheshire-like grin, his phone in his hands.

"Don't you two look cozy?" He coos, tapping on his screen once more before his phone produces another click.

Finally registering what's happening, you jolt awake, only belatedly realising the oh-so-soft material to be Renjun's clothed chest. You must have fallen asleep on him sometime during the middle of the night, and you can't figure out what's more embarrassing: that, or the fact that Donghyuck has proof of said... intimacy.

"Lee Donghyuck! You better not post that!" You yelp, jumping off the couch to reach for his phone, only to fail as he waves his arm in the air, cackling manically.

Renjun finally stirs at the noise. “What’s going on?” he mumbles groggily, only to frown when he registers what you and Donghyuck are doing.

You whip to turn to Renjun, almost tripping in the process, throwing him an apologetic glance. “N-Nothing! Just- uh, a little misunderstanding!”

Donghyuck lowers his arm, tongue poking out of his lips as he types rapidly on his phone. “Oh, I’m definitely sharing this. Aw, you two are so adorable!”

Renjun groans. "Fuck off, Hyuck, seriously." He stands up, picking up his bag before stuffing all his belongings inside. "Ignore him. Let's go."

You giggle, your own embarrassment seeping away when you realise just how flustered he is. "Renjun, wait-"

"Nope, not waiting," he mutters, the tip of his ears noticeably pink as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "We're leaving before this asshole gets anymore material." He shoots Donghyuck a glare, who only waves a hand mindlessly.

"I may be an asshole, but at least I'm not delusional. Seriously, guys, it's painful watching you pretend like you're not into each other!" He cries dramatically, and Renjun's eyes widen before he forces another warning stare to his friend.

"Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Hyuck," he mutters, hoping his voice didn't waver too much, before quickly grabbing your arm and leading you to the door. "We're leaving."

"Have a good day, lovebirds!" Donghyuck sings, and Renjun flashes him a middle finger with his free hand without turning around.

You couldn't help but to laugh as you let him drag you out to the sidewalk, the cold outside air hitting your skin for the first time since yesterday. It's no longer raining, but the streets are still wet from the overnight storm, and it helps in cooling your own burning cheeks.

Renjun finally releases you when you're a little further away from the café, turning to face you with a sigh. "Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles, his cheek still painted red, and you wonder how it's possible for him to be this cute, grumpiness and all.

"It's okay." You bite your bottom lip to suppress a grin, and Renjun smiles at you weakly.

There's a moment of silence between you two before Renjun clears his throat awkwardly. "He's right, you know?"

"Hm? About what?" You ask, slightly taken aback by his sudden soft tone.

Renjun shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his voice quiet. “About… me being into you. Wait, that came out weird." He stumbles over his words, and you merely beam at him as you give him time to compose himself.

"It's just— I know I haven't been the nicest to you, and I know it may sound crazy, but I had this whole revelation yesterday that I do have feelings for you— and I promise this isn't just a fleeting thing because of the storm— I genuinely think you're really cool."

You don't say anything, only a soft smile playing on your lips, and that causes Renjun to panic.

"I mean, I know I've been a jerk to you, and I know this isn't an excuse, but I just didn't know how to-"

You cut him off by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, effectively halting his words. His mouth hangs open slightly, eyes wide as he stares at you in disbelief, his face flushing.

When you pull back, you couldn't help but laugh softly at his stunned expression. “You're rambling,” you tease with a playful smile.

He coughs out a small laugh. "Yeah, sorry. Guess I was." The smile stays on his face this time as he meets your eyes. "So... does that mean you're not compelled to the idea of going on a date with me?"

"Nope. Not at all." You rock between your heels and toes, already feeling the excitement bubbling in your chest. You like to think that you're doing a much better job at keeping your composure, but you're sure anyone could see just how bright red you are. "I think I'd really like that, actually."

Renjun's eyebrows raise before his expression eases into one of relief, and for the first time, a large smile graces his lips. You think you might just have a new favourite thing now— one that easily tops the rain.

"Yeah? Good. Because I think I'd really like that, too."

[fastandcarlos]

My Little Graduate : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you're all prepared to graduate with your family by your side, and an unexpected extra sneaking into the crowd

“There she is...my little graduate!” Max cheered as he watched you walk through the crowd of people, opening his arms up and inviting you straight into the room. 

You were lifted up of your feet as soon as Max’s arms wrapped around you, your hand reaching up to keep a hold of your cap that was on the top of your head. Max pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek before pulling away, studying you closely. His hand slipped into yours as he twirled you around, his eyes drawn to the wide smile on your face. 

It was everything that Max wanted to see, after watching you stress and suffer for so many months, he was finally seeing the proper you in front of him again. 

“You’ve got no idea how proud I am of you,” Max smiled, taking both of your hands into his, “you’ve worked so hard to get that moment today.” 

He was in awe of how hard you’d worked, relentlessly researching, typing, proofreading, whatever you needed to do in order to get yourself your degree that you’d dreamed of for so long. Max was hardworking himself, but nothing could compare to how hard you’d pushed yourself. 

Little did Max know the part that he had played though. The constant late night visits, dashes to the shop to help you, offers to read over what you’d written to make sure that it made sense in your sleep state.  

“Graduation suits you too,” Max complimented, taking a closer look at you. 

The slight breeze blew your gown up slightly, showing off the dress that you wore underneath. The finishing touch for Max though was the cap that you wore on top of your head, the one thing you’d talked about wanting to wear for so long, and at last it was finally yours. 

“I can’t believe I’m dating a graduate,” Max smiled, keeping his eyes firmly on you. “How does it feel to finally receive the recognition that you deserve?” 

“This is the moment I dreamt of when I sent that application in all those years ago,” you chuckled, smoothing down your gown. “There were plenty of moments too when I was sure that I wasn’t actually going to see the end of this degree.” 

There had been many conversations between you and Max when you felt like giving up. He was there every time though, reminding you of how hard you’d worked and how rewarding it would be if you saw it through to the end. 

He wasn’t sure at the time whether you truly believed him, but now as you celebrated your moment, he was relieved that you had listened and stuck it out, no matter how many times you wanted to turn around and say no. 

“I always knew you’d get here,” Max shrugged, as if it was the easiest thing in the world that you’d achieved. “There was no doubt in my mind with that incredibly smart mind of yours.” 

Your hands rested against Max’s chest, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I don’t think I’d have got to this moment without you, you’ve always been my biggest cheerleader.” 

As your eyes met Max’s, you couldn’t help but smile, reaching up and taking your cap off. You twirled it in your hands before placing it on top of Max’s head instead, taking a step back so that you could admire how well it suited him. Although your degree was yours, Max had played a huge part in it too. His smile turned up as he positioned the cap so that it was straight, allowing you to pull your phone out and take a picture of him. 

Once he had it, Max didn’t want to take it off, finding himself quite comfortable with a graduate cap on his head. He knew it was never going to be his, but he didn’t take for granted how appreciative you were of everything that he had done for you over the past couple of years. 

“You deserve to wear that for a moment,” you told him, handing it back as Max went to take it off. “It probably doesn’t compare to all those fancy trophies that you win on a podium, but that to me is probably the biggest trophy I’ll ever earn. So, I want you to hold it, like you tell me to do with yours.” 

“This is all yours,” Max protested, taking the cap and popping it back onto the top of your head. “I’m just enjoying the fact that there’s so many graduates around here today, and yet I’m dating the best one.” 

“I’m emotional enough as it is today without you getting soppy.” 

You hit hard against Max’s chest as his arms snaked back around your frame. He pressed a kiss against the top of your head, blocking out everything that was going on around you. Despite the hundreds of names that had been read as people walked across the stage, there was only one that meant anything to him. 

A hand poked against your side, dragging you out of your daydream. “What’s the plan now that you’ve got a super official degree to your name?” 

“I guess I have to go and get a job now,” you chuckled, “I can’t study and travel the world supporting you forever, as nice as it’s been for the past couple of years.” 

“You’ll still come to some races though, won’t you? Even though you’re going to be busy?” Max nervously asked you. 

It didn’t matter how career driven you were, there was no way you were going to stop going to races completely. Depending on what direction you were about to go in, you knew every race would be impossible, but if there was any chance that you could get there, then you absolutely would. 

“Wherever you go next, I’ll be supporting you,” Max assured you, “and wherever that place is, I know you’re going to go on and do absolutely amazing things too.” 

“I should probably go and collect a few more degrees to try and match all your world championships.” 

“Yours is a lot more impressive than mine,” Max grinned. 

Your eyes narrowed back at him, “millions of people get degrees, but there’s only one champion of the world, and that just so happens to be you.” 

Although you had a point, Max was still far more impressed by what you achieved then what he had. He was at the top in his field, and he knew now that the world was your oyster that you were absolutely going to rise to the top of your field too. 

“I really am proud of you,” Max told you once again, kissing against your forehead. 

“I know you are,” you giggled, “it’s taken a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to this moment, but I’m so happy that we’re finally here.” 

“I’m just looking forward to having you back, without the stress, the late trips to the library,” Max couldn’t help but joke, “it’s just going to be you again, with that big, beautiful smile on your face.” 

Your eyes widened as Max spoke, “are you suggesting that I’ve been stressed and stroppy over the past few months?” You challenged. 

“Love, you’ve been an absolute nightmare.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗