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megalony · 5 months ago

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I Failed- Part 2

Here is the second part of my Eddie Diaz imagine, thank you all for the lovely feedback on the first part. I hope you will all like this next one.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: After her miscarriage, (Y/n) and Eddie are trying to move forward again. But they encounter a few surprises and changes on the way.

Enjoy.

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A thunderstorm began to rage behind (Y/n)'s eyes as she slumped down into the chair opposite the doctor's desk.

She knew she looked far from her best. It was a struggle just to sit here and keep her eyes open, let alone sit straight and try to look engaged and bright when all she wanted to do was go home and crawl back into bed. She was tired. She wanted to be bright and uplifted and show the doctor that she was doing better, but that felt like too much effort.

She had been doing great for a while now. (Y/n) actually felt like she was getting back on track. But being around doctors brought down her moods and made her anxious.

At least this was only a routine appointment.

This wasn't a mental health check up like she'd gone to when she came out the hospital after the miscarriage. This wasn't a check up to see if her body was going back to normal after what she'd been through. No more assessments with nurses prodding her flattening tummy and asking indiscreet questions that made her want to cry.

Seeing her stomach deflate and watch her body go back to 'normal' with no baby to show for it had been hard enough. Without the nurses constantly prodding and checking and telling her she was fine, when she felt the exact opposite.

It wasn't fine to go through half a pregnancy and come out of it with no baby at the end.

It wasn't fine to spend the first two months after the miscarriage still believing she had done something wrong, that she had let Eddie down. Sometimes she woke up in the morning, pressed a hand to her stomach and felt like she was a failure at the one thing she wanted more than anything else in the world.

"So (Y/n), how are you?"

Her eyes drifted over to look at the doctor sat on the opposite side of the desk.

She didn't like that question, it was one she had been asked far too many times over the last six months. She didn't like people looking at her with sympathy in their eyes or panic in their voices. She didn't like hearing that question when it was the first thing the counsellor always asked her at their appointments. And (Y/n) was sick of hearing it by now.

"I'm doing good." She knew the tiredness on her face may contradict her words, but at least the look in her eyes was sincere. She wasn't lying.

(Y/n) didn't know where she would be or what would of happened if she didn't have Eddie by her side through this. If she had gone through the miscarriage with her ex, (Y/n) doubted she would have survived it. Everything had always been her fault even when it wasn't, and feeling sick was always 'an excuse' he said she used when she did things wrong.

Eddie never treated her like that. When she didn't feel like she could get out of bed, Eddie laid with her and wrapped her up in his arms. He held her until she felt like she could finally move. He didn't force her into recovery too fast or push her past her boundaries, he simply walked with her every step of the way.

He never blamed her. He didn't tell her she should 'snap out of it by now' or that she was getting hung up on the past.

He told her how much he loved her, how well he thought she was doing and made her feel like each day she managed to piece herself together was an achievement.

"That's good. So this is just a general check up, an overview to see how you're fairing. Just a general outlook, how are you eating and sleeping?"

She leaned back a bit further in her seat and tried to think. Sometimes the days went by so slowly that (Y/n) could keep track of every second of every day. But then other days blurred together in a whirlwind and she could barely tell one week from the next. Sometimes even the good days blurred by in a flash, but (Y/n) thought maybe that was a good thing. All the days were starting to get better so time was zooming by.

She wanted to be as far away from that miscarriage as possible and leave it in the past. She didn't want to forget, just distance herself from that event in her life.

"Sometimes I sleep a lot, but I'm sleeping fine, I don't wake up during the night. And I'm eating as usual, I don't eat breakfast, but that's normal."

(Y/n) had spent a little while in the hospital after the miscarriage, the doctor didn't want to discharge her without making sure that she wasn't at risk for self-harm and that she was in the right frame of mind to go home. She hadn't slept well during that first month. After that, (Y/n) seemed to sleep normal or sleep too much, but it wasn't really an issue.

Eating wasn't a problem either. Eddie had been swiftly relieved that he didn't have to worry about (Y/n) becoming ill by not eating enough or not feeling hungry or energetic.

"Good, so physical health everything is okay, no concerns?"

She shook her head. What kind of concerns could she have? (Y/n) hadn't exactly booked this appointment herself and it wasn't as if Eddie had booked it because he was worried about her. The doctor asked for this because they had to keep regular checks after the miscarriage to make sure (Y/n) was faring well both mentally and physically.

"How about your period, is that regular now?" It wasn't uncommon for periods to be scattered and irregular. It could take months for the pattern to get back to normal, (Y/n) had been advised about that.

She shook her head and looked down at her hands that were clasped together on her lap. "No, I barely get them."

It was hard to try and remember the last proper period she'd had. Obviously she hadn't had any when she was pregnant, and that meant five months without any. The miscarriage had been six months ago and since then, (Y/n) could only recollect two small periods that lasted about two days each, if that.

It was a relief not to have heavy periods or be bed-ridden with cramps or bad mood swings due to discomfort. But it was also unsettling to be apprehensive, waiting for something that wasn't happening. (Y/n) felt like it was a reminder. If she ever tried to ignore the fact that she'd miscarried, her body was happy to remind her by not giving her a period as if it was taunting her.

"Okay, and how are you feeling in yourself? Moods can affect periods."

"Better than before… a lot of headaches though, and I'm tired." The headaches were new and although the tiredness came and went, especially because of her moods, it was getting hard.

It didn't seem to matter how much sleep (Y/n) got, she was still starting to feel drained halfway through the day or she felt so tired that she didn't want to get out of bed.

"Let's take some bloods, you might be low on a few things."

Suddenly, (Y/n) wished Eddie hadn't been at work so he could of come along to this appointment. It skipped her mind that she might need to have bloods taken and she wasn't so good with needles.

She slipped off her jacket and laid her left arm on the desk, she knew the drill. Her head turned to the right and she ignored the rubber band around her arm, looking away towards the wall so she didn't have to think or look at the needle. It was a familiar discomfort to feel the needle in the crease of her elbow, and when (Y/n) opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that she wasn't going dizzy or blacking out.

Although the bloods did make her feel somewhat drained. Two little viles of blood felt like two full pints and (Y/n) moved her hands to run up and down her thighs to try and bring some feeling back in her hands and make herself feel better.

"All done. I'd like a urine sample as well if that's okay, just to double check there are no infections or kidney issues."

"Okay." That wasn't so bad. That was rather easy and (Y/n) could do the sample now so she didn't have to go home and come back again.

"Alright, if you do that sample for me, then I'll send them off. And as soon as the results come back, I'll give you a call." That was good; (Y/n) wanted to go home. She would rather be anywhere else other than a doctor's office right now.

"Thank you."

***

"Hi, is that (Y/n)? It's doctor Piper, I've got the results back from your blood and urine samples."

"Oh, right. Was it all okay?"

"I'd like you to come down to the office to discuss it, if that's okay."

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her head to the right until her cheek was laid on Eddie's shoulder. She felt his hand rest on her thigh and his fingers gave her a light squeeze, making her lips curve into a small smile. She leaned into him a bit more and moved her arms to bind her hands around his arm that was draped over her chest to hold her thigh.

She could feel his lips pressing to the top of her head, meshing into her hair while his leg jittered up and down every now and then, nudging her knee each time.

The doctor's phone call had made her nervous. (Y/n) wasn't sure what to expect and she had asked Eddie if he would come to the appointment with her. Of course he didn't refuse.

She couldn't help but panic about what they wanted to talk to her about. What could the results say that couldn't be explained over the phone? Quite a few times, (Y/n) had talked over the phone about having low vitamins or needing a few tablets to be put on prescription.

Maybe she had an infection. Maybe the doctor had to talk to her about the antibiotics she would need if she did have an infection. Whatever it was, (Y/n) felt calmer if Eddie came along with her.

When her name was called, (Y/n) kept her hands deadlocked around Eddie's arm even when he stood up.

She stood up with him, binding his arm to her chest and pressing herself up into his side as he led the way down towards the doctor.

The doctor had a calming smile on her face which settled down the nerves igniting up in (Y/n)'s stomach. They headed into the familiar office and sat down in front of the desk and the moment they sat down, Eddie's hand found her thigh again.

He took to squeezing her thigh and rubbing his thumb across her skin to try and keep her calm. Hopefully, whatever this was about was nothing to worry about and Eddie didn't want (Y/n) worrying. The doctor hadn't asked to make an urgent appointment so it couldn't be anything dire or drastic.

"Afternoon (Y/n), thank you for coming in. Is this your husband?"

When (Y/n) nodded, the doctor smiled and leaned forward in her chair. She laid her arms down on the desk and looked over at the computer screen on her left so she could bring up (Y/n)'s file and the blood test results.

"As I said on the phone, I've had your results back. Now, I don't want you to worry or start to panic, but I had to ask you down to talk this through in person as we'll need to discuss and organise a few things."

That didn't sound great. That sounded more worrying than the doctor seemed to imply and (Y/n) felt Eddie bristle beside her as his brows furrowed in confusion. And he sat up straighter in his seat, moving his right hand to run up and down the arm rest to try and give himself something to focus on.

"Both the blood test and the urine samples have come up positive on the pregnancy tests."

She couldn't breathe.

All the air seemed to become sucked out of the room until (Y/n) was sat with her lungs deflating and shrivelling up in her chest. Her diaphragm pulled inwards until her muscles began to ache and her throat started to tense, rubbing her vocal cords together at the lack of air.

Little black and white spots danced in front of her eyes like stars and a horrible bell began to toll in her ears.

When Eddie's hand left her thigh, a shockwave rattled through (Y/n) and she suddenly felt like a tiny boat sailing away in the ocean with no anchor to stop her and nothing to guide her back to shore.

Her body leaned forwards out of instinct, but the moment Eddie's hand found her back and began to rub slow, soothing circles against her skin, she finally sucked in a deep breath that made her lungs ache. Her chest finally seemed to expand, but the spots continued to dance around her vision until she had no choice but to close her eyes.

She felt Eddie's other hand move to press against her lower chest, prompting her to take deep breaths while his lips pressed down against her shoulder.

Eddie was grateful the doctor didn't say anything. She didn't round the desk and try to coax (Y/n) into breathing exercises or try and move her or assess her when she was clearly going into a panic attack. Instead, she stayed silent behind her desk and let Eddie control the situation.

Both (Y/n)'s hands found their way to attach to Eddie's wrist that was against her chest and through blurring eyes, she managed to look over at him.

He looked perplexed.

He was torn between wanting to smile and celebrate and wanting to huddle down and let the tears fall. He wanted to be happy, but he didn't know how to do that without feeling like he was betraying himself and (Y/n) after what happened six months ago.

The first time they got this news, they had been in tears, holding one another and laughing excitedly that it had happened so quickly after they talked about starting a family. This was different. This didn't make either of them think about having a family; it made them think about the risk of doing this again and going through the same loss a second time around.

"Eddie…" (Y/n) wasn't quite sure what she was trying to ask him, but she tucked herself into him as quickly as she could.

She didn't care about the arm of the chair that dug uncomfortably into her hip as she leaned over until her upper body was resting on Eddie's lap. Her elbows dug down into his thighs and her face meshed into his chest while her hands clung to his arm that she pinned against her chest like she needed the limb to survive.

"It's okay, it's okay." He wasn't sure what else to say as he ran his hand up and down (Y/n)'s back and pressed his lips against the top of her head. He curled around her like a security blanket, holding her into his chest until he felt her start to breathe deeper into his chest and she stopped muttering and gasping his name.

(Y/n) kept hold of Eddie's arm as she meshed her cheek into his chest and tried to look over at the doctor.

She wanted to go home.

She didn't want to stay here any longer, she just wanted to go home and curl up into a ball and disappear. But if they left this appointment now, they would only have to make another one soon. And the doctor had said she wanted to talk about this, which told (Y/n) that this appointment wasn't quite over yet.

"I'd like to do an ultrasound, to see how far along you are. I think it would be wise to check now and then we can have a chat afterwards. If you drink these in the waiting room, and in about twenty minutes, I'll call you back for the scan. Okay?"

She found two bottles of water and placed them on the end of the desk. She didn't want (Y/n) to go home yet without talking through this or else she would be in shock. And it would be better to check how far along (Y/n) was so they could get a plan in place and make some more appointments. It was clear (Y/n) wasn't able to talk about this quite yet so a little while to calm down would do them both some good.

(Y/n) felt horrid walking on trembling legs as Eddie guided her down the hall towards the waiting room. She felt like she was moving on autopilot, shuffling towards the seats at the back of the open space, near the windows where they would be out of the way of the few other people sat waiting.

The moment she sat down, (Y/n) felt like melting into a puddle on the floor. Her arms coiled into her chest and her hands started to tremble as they knotted together on her lap.

Once Eddie set the water bottles down on the floor, he secured his left arm around her waist and gently reeled her back into his chest. Her head slumped onto his shoulder and Eddie pressed a soft, loving kiss to the top of her head.

"Amor?"

"I- I didn't know," She wasn't sure why she said that, it wasn't as if she had done anything wrong or as if having an inkling would have been a bad thing. But she didn't.

(Y/n) hadn't felt in tune with her body since the miscarriage and the thought of being pregnant again only six months after losing her baby made her shiver. She didn't want to lose another baby.

"I know. Here, try and drink this for me." Eddie leaned down and grabbed one of the water bottles and handed it over to her.

He leaned his cheek on top of her head while (Y/n) stayed leaning into his chest. There were no arm rests on the waiting room chairs so (Y/n) could lean close to Eddie until she was half lying on his lap, not that he minded at all. If anything, he tugged her closer and curled around her.

He was rather surprised that (Y/n) gulped down half the water in one go and he began gliding his hand up and down her waist, praying she wouldn't throw it all back up. That wouldn't do her any good and they couldn't have the scan unless her bladder was full.

(Y/n) finished the water in record time and reached down for the second one, but she began tapping it against her thigh for a few seconds rather than drinking it.

She felt Eddie hum into her hair, quietly checking if she was okay, and he felt his heart jumping up into his throat when he watched (Y/n). He watched her tilt her head down and move her hand to press her palm over her stomach like she didn't truly believe there might be a baby there.

"I have to keep this one safe."

Her words shattered something inside Eddie and he stayed unnaturally still and silent, letting her words sink in and burn through his heart like poison.

He didn't want her to think like that. He didn't want (Y/n) to think she had done something wrong last time, that she had somehow caused the miscarriage or that it had been her failing. She hadn't done anything wrong, and he prayed if she really was pregnant again, that the same fate wouldn't occur twice.

Silence befell them while (Y/n) downed the second bottle and burrowed into Eddie's chest until it felt like she was trying to submerge herself into his ribcage.

"(Y/n)." Doctor Piper stood in the hall and waved over towards them, beckoning the pair of them back over to her.

(Y/n) felt a bit more settled this time and alive on her feet when she got up. She cocooned both arms around her waist, feeling Eddie's hand on her lower back as they went down a different corridor towards the ultrasound rooms.

"If you'll take a seat for me and lift up your shirt." She pointed towards the bed in the middle of the room while she herself took a seat at the sonogram machine.

Turning to the right, (Y/n) looked up at Eddie and when she gingerly reached out for his hand and his expression softened. He entwined their hands and moved round to stand beside her as she laid on the bed and rolled up her shirt. She tugged down the hem of her leggings so her abdomen was on display; they had done this before, after all.

The uncomfortable feeling and the pressure was strangely familiar but (Y/n) tried to ignore the feeling as she looked at the screen. Part of her didn't want to see anything come up on the screen. She wanted it to stay blank, so there wasn't a second chance of heartbreak.

They hadn't talked about this.

Another baby so soon after the miscarriage hadn't been planned or prepared and (Y/n) didn't know if she would survive if anything happened to this baby- if she was truly pregnant.

But all she'd ever wanted was a family, and when she married Eddie, (Y/n) had thought about having his baby thousands of times. It was the only thing she wanted and that need intensified after she lost the baby. All she thought about was how she lost their baby and how they had been so close. (Y/n) wanted to have a baby in her arms, she wanted to be a proper wife and give Eddie children.

"Is- is that…" Eddie could feel his nerves going haywire as he leant his right arm over the back of the bed (Y/n) was laid on. He leaned over her, feeling her hand tighten in his other hand as he tried to get a better look at the screen and his eyes fell to the doctor who shared his apprehension.

"(Y/n), I know this is a shock, and I don't want to unsettle you any further, but-"

"What's wrong?" (Y/n)'s fingers clenched around Eddie's hand so tightly she cut off his circulation and made his arm jerk.

Oh God, what had she done? Had something gone wrong already? Had she lost a second baby, without even knowing she was pregnant in the first place?

Eddie's name tore past her lips as she leaned forward to try and squint at the screen to find out what he and the doctor were so concerned about. But she felt Eddie leaning to nudge her back down on the bed, not wanting her to get upset or panicked.

"You're expecting twins." The look on (Y/n)'s face must have shown that she didn't believe it because the doctor started to point at the screen. "Here we have baby A, and then here is baby B over here."

Two babies.

Two chances of losing another baby.

But what if this wasn't going to work out the same as last time? What if this was two chances at finally having a baby with Eddie, of making him a dad again and doing what she wanted to do. Be a proper wife and mother, have a baby this time instead of losing them. And this time she could have two babies. She could have two newborns to care for, as if her body was making up for the mistake that happened last time.

Surprise flooded Eddie's eyes when he looked down and found a small but nevertheless enchanting smile on (Y/n)'s lips. While her head was inclined and her eyes were focused on the screen.

"You seem to be around twelve weeks, babies are sharing one placenta which makes them identical. All looks good so far."

Once the sonogram was finally removed from her stomach, (Y/n) cleaned away the gel and pulled her shirt down while the doctor printed a few copies off for them.

She felt Eddie's hand on her back as she sat up straight and swung her legs over the side of the bed so she was sitting up properly, facing the doctor. All this news was swirling around in her head, making her extremely dizzy, but she knew it would all sink in soon. She hoped.

"Okay, I'll make a note on your file and put a referral through for antenatal care, you'll need a few extra appointments and scans from now on. And we can discuss getting a plan in motion for a planned, induced birth-"

"No- no." (Y/n) began to shake her head and before she really knew what she was doing, her hands moved to the edge of the bed and she pushed herself onto unsteady feet.

That was more than enough for today. She wasn't going to listen or discuss anymore of this, not now. It was far too early to be talking about any of that and (Y/n) wasn't going to listen when all it would do would serve to panic her. She wanted to go home. She wanted Eddie to take her home and wrap her up in his embrace and calm her down before she became too overwhelmed by it all.

"Baby-"

"No, I'm not- I'm not jinxing this- I might not get that far. I wanna go home."

She wasn't making plans and talking about the future when they were so early on. She wasn't taking that risk of jinxing this chance. If they talked about giving birth and sorting plans, then (Y/n) would probably lose them. She didn't want to tempt fate into repeating history.

(Y/n) was already stumbling towards the door before Eddie hurried to try and catch her up. He barely heard the doctor muttering that she would make the necessary referrals. Eddie knew they would call in a few days when they wanted to make the next appointment and it would be alright then. (Y/n) would have had the time for the news to sink in by then.

He hurried into the hall to catch up with (Y/n) and when he reached her, his arms cocooned around her waist to prevent her from running away in a panic. He reeled her into his chest and tucked his face into the crook of her neck while he leaned against the wall, keeping her here in the secluded corridor with him so they could calm down and talk without people watching.

"I- I can't…" (Y/n) wasn't sure what she was trying to say, but she closed her eyes and tilted her head down when her thoughts started to cloud her head.

She reached a trembling hand down to grasp Eddie's wrist and shakily moved his arm until his palm was pressing down on her abdomen. She felt the sharp breath he took and the way he pierced his teeth into her neck at the thought of having another baby- another two babies.

"S'okay, one day at a time, hm?"

***

Apprehension flooded Eddie's stomach and he paused in his tracks down the hall when he realised one of the bedroom doors was ajar. Specifically, the spare room.

He could feel his heart rocketing in his chest and causing his stomach to tighten like he was about to be sick.

He changed course and aimed for the spare room rather than their shared bedroom and hovered on the threshold, peering silently into the room. The spare room was more of a study. There were books lined on the shelves, some of Chris's old games tucked away in the cabinet, a computer Eddie and (Y/n) sometimes used for work and emails and such.

It was a nicnack room that collected spare things they didn't always use. And as of last year, it had collected items they had been getting ready for the baby. They had been just a few short weeks away from turning the study into a nursery.

Part of Eddie had been relieved they didn't get that far. He didn't know what he would of done if that room had been fully or even partially decorated when (Y/n) had the miscarriage. He would of probably locked the door and forbid anyone from going in there.

The cot was still flat-packed in the corner of the room in its box. A bag of clothes, blankets and a few odd bits they had bought was on top of the cabinet behind the door. Some odd teddies and bottles and items they had bought in advance were bagged in here somewhere.

Eddie barely came into the study unless he was tossing something in here to be forgotten about or searching for a particular game Chris wanted to play. And he knew (Y/n) didn't come in here often. Too many reminders.

His heartstrings yanked and stretched uncomfortably in his chest when he peered into the room and looked over at his wife.

With a deep breath, Eddie gently nudged the door open and headed into the room.

(Y/n) was knelt down on the carpet in the middle of the room, clearly lost in thought with whatever was laid out in front of her on the floor.

"What're you up to?" Eddie's voice was gentle and quiet and his head tilted to one side as he padded across and crouched down behind her. His hands found her hips and he settled on his knees, curving his chest around her back while his arms wove from her hips to lock around her middle.

His chin perched on her shoulder and his arms squeezed lovingly into her sides as he peered over to see what she was doing.

There was a bag in front of her. The bag that contained the clothes and onesies and blankets they had bought months ago for their first baby. She had a soft, knitted cream blanket in her hands with a teddybear stitched into the bottom corner. Her fingers were methodically rubbing over the material, creasing it between her hands like she was stuck in some kind of trance.

"Just looking through some stuff."

(Y/n)'s voice was oddly quiet and she couldn't bring herself to look away from the blanket in her hands.

She remembered Eddie's mum telling her a while ago that she still had some of Chris's things from when he was a baby. Shannon had left it at Eddie's parents house and they had kept most of the stuff as keepsakes. His mum, Helena, was going to bring some of the things down when they had planned to visit before the baby was born.

Of course, after the miscarriage, they had visited, but bringing Chris's baby things had been scrapped completely. They might have a reason to bring them down if they came to visit soon.

"And what're you thinking?"

When he didn't receive an answer, Eddie carefully unravelled one arm from around (Y/n)'s waist so he could press his fingertips beneath her chin. He tilted her head back and leaned closer until his nose nudged hers and his lips were hovering over hers.

(Y/n) was the one who inched closer and connected their lips, and she loved the way Eddie's fingers tickled her neck as he dragged his hand around to cradle the side of her neck.

"We'll need another cot." (Y/n) wasn't sure if she was trying to make a joke or if she was just listing off one of the many things circulating through her head at the moment.

She wasn't sure how long she had been in here, or why she came into the spare room in the first place. But once she caught sight of the bag, she couldn't help herself. She had to take a peek and look through the things she had forgotten about. (Y/n) forgot they had bought a few blankets, she thought it had only been some clothing and essentials like bottles and the cot. Everything had been bought in vain, of course. They got ahead of themselves.

They wouldn't be doing that again. (Y/n) wouldn't get anything or let her excitement get the better of her until she got these twins past a safe mark. Where she would be out of the time frame for a miscarriage, then she would let herself try and think ahead.

She felt the way Eddie's lips curved into a grin and his hand shifted back up to cup the side of her face where he could trace his fingertips along her cheek.

"I think we need to book that antenatal appointment, before we think about all the stuff we're gonna need. Don't you?"

Eddie was glad and somewhat relieved to see (Y/n) wasn't submerged in panic, expecting this to go wrong. He wanted them both to spend the next few months trying to enjoy this process and work through it, not live in haste and anxiety expecting something to go wrong.

"You'll come with me?" It was a request more than a statement because (Y/n) didn't think she could do it alone. She didn't want to be overwhelmed with everything the midwife was going to speel off to her and go through. At least having Eddie there would calm her down and he might be in more of a position to take in all the information better than (Y/n).

"You know I will." He stole another kiss from her lips before (Y/n) leaned her cheek on his shoulder and twisted around in his arms a little.

She kept her arms pinned into her waist and her hands lost in the blanket on her lap, but she tried to tuck herself more into Eddie's chest. She loved the way his lips merged with her temple and he began to smooth one hand up and down her stomach. Testing the waters, seeing if the touch was okay or not, and he continued when (Y/n) didn't object.

"There's things we can do, you know." He murmured against the top of her head, almost as if he was talking to himself.

"Hm?"

"To make sure things go differently this time. You get more appointments with twins, and exams. They'll keep checking the baby's positions, and we can get a safe date."

Eddie knew that whether they were having twins this time or not, (Y/n) would of been entitled to extra check-ups because she'd miscarried before. It would put (Y/n)'s mind at ease as well as make sure the midwives didn't miss anything and were reassured it wouldn't happen again.

At least with twins, (Y/n) got those extra check ups anyway and they would keep a closer eye on her. And she wouldn't feel like it was because she had miscarried before or that she was at risk of 'failing again'.

"Safe date?" (Y/n) pressed a kiss to the side of Eddie's neck, feeling the way he swallowed and craned his head back like he was gathering his thoughts.

"You don't usually reach full-term with twins or triplets. The doctor will pick us a date, a few weeks before your actual due date, and induce labour. It reduces the risks for you all."

The thought of a planned labour was very calming to Eddie. It meant no waiting around, walking on egg shells for labour to happen. No panicking that something would go wrong or that (Y/n) would go into labour and they might struggle to get her to the hospital on time.

Reaching full term with a multiple pregnancy was highly unlikely and it was risky. It was safer to have the baby up to five or six weeks before the due date.

They could go to the hospital on their scheduled day, have labour actively induced and then have their babies on a schedule. It meant Eddie would certainly be by (Y/n)'s side from the very beginning, he could put in his leave at work. There would be no risk of him being stuck on shift while (Y/n) was in labour and she wouldn't have to panic.

"As long as I reach that date. I'll do anything they say." (Y/n) tilted her head down, tucking her cheek into Eddie's chest as she snuggled into him like she was about to go to sleep.

She would do whatever the doctor and midwife told her to. She would have a planned birth. She would go on bed rest if they told her, she would take vitamins and be careful. (Y/n) would do anything if it meant that she would actually reach their planned date and have their babies safely.

She didn't want to lose anymore babies.

She felt Eddie's arm tighten around her waist while his other hand cupped her neck, cradling her into his chest while his lips merged with the top of her head. He began to sway them from side to side, humming into her hair every now and then.

"It'll be different this time, amor. I just know it."

#911 imagine #imagine #eddie diaz x reader #pregnant! reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #I failed

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outofconcheol · 6 months ago

Text

The Sun Also Rises (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: dancer!Minho x ballerina!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, strangers to lovers, travel au, 18+

summary: sometimes, one night is all it takes to change everything. and that's where Minho meets you.

warnings: pov switches, feelings of burnout and poor mental health discussed, alcohol, swearing, alcohol, kind of a language barrier (Minho can understand but is bad at speaking English), lots of tension, they're literally idiots I can't, Hyunjin being the voice of reason, Kento Yamazaki also makes a cameo (twinnn where have you been)

word count: 8k

a/n: consider this my early bday gift to me (and Minho), since both of our bdays are coming up in October. this is based on the film Before Sunrise. I'm very happy with how this fic turned out, it feels very me, so i hope you enjoy! thank you to Beezy @hobeemin for the lovely banner!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension abound, lots of kissing (too much for two people who just met), grinding, beach sex (be cautious when attempting irl), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), pull-out method (again be cautious and wrap it before you tap it), cumshot

The night breeze rustles through the trees, and even though it's late, the city teems with life. Whispers can be heard around every corner, the clinking of wine glasses muddled with the sound of laughter. Minho’s stomach rumbles, the warm, spicy scent of paella wafting from somewhere nearby, and he remembers he hasn’t eaten since this morning.

For a brief moment, he misses the food back in Korea – the deep, earthy flavour of a steaming pot of doenjang jjigae from his eomma’s kitchen. He should really call his parents – they’d probably want to know how their son ended up lost and halfway across the world, stumbling through Gracìa on an empty stomach.

To be fair, Minho didn’t even know himself. If he was Hyunjin, he could have said that he was attracted to the abstract, flowing architecture of Gaudì, and he wanted to study it. Maybe if he was Jeongin, he’d point to the numerous shops and boutiques that lined the streets of Barcelona, a fashion lover’s paradise.

But he was Lee Minho – a failed dance school drop-out, kicked out of his own crew because one day, the music had just stopped. And so did he, frozen in the middle of the routine, before he made a break for it and ran. The weak link in the chain. A note slightly out of tune.

The discordance of it all didn’t escape him – being here in such an enchanting city, when inside it felt like he’d stumbled and stumbled until he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be able to dance again.

And he only had himself to blame.

The streets continue to wind, Minho’s sluggish feet under their spell, going wherever they lead. He remains a prisoner to his thoughts, the sights melding into a blur around him, until suddenly, he hears it. Around the corner.

Music.

And not just any kind – real music. The jovial sound of a live band, so different from the synthetic beats he was used to when it came to choreographing. His feet have a mind of their own, entranced and leading him straight to the source of the sound.

The scene he stumbles into is beyond what he could have imagined for this time of night – under a canopy of twinkling lights, were dancers. Dancers everywhere, twirling and prancing like they were out of a storybook, perfectly in tune with the music.

Minho ducks behind a tree, his foot tapping in sync to the beat, and watches them dance, their toes skipping from right to left as they move back in forth in a circle. It’s beyond captivating, and he longs to join them.

He wonders if they recognize him as one of them, or if he seems like just another plain tourist, happily enjoying the feeling of getting lost in a foreign city.

The circle stalls, the music changing into a slower, more enthralling lilt, to signal the entry of someone new. Minho’s eyebrow quirks when the sea of people parts, the moon’s spotlight now on a solitary figure.

His breath catches in his throat as he spots you – nimble movements a stark contrast to the rustic giddiness of the common crowd. He knows you must be classically trained – movements precise and ethereal, your meticulous form a stark contrast to the fluidity that surrounds you. He’s spellbound with the way you move – a vision of grace, so different from the swift, powerful movements he was used to executing, watching how the music takes hold of you, like you’re a marionette on strings, letting it lead you wherever you need to go.

Time ceases to exist the longer he watches, taken with the elegant lines of your body, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s so lost in his mind that he doesn’t notice when the music stops, until he feels the rustle of a figure next to him.

Minho turns in surprise, and tumbles backwards into the tree.

It’s you. The dancer.

Your doe eyes look up at him in concern, and it’s only then that Minho feels the sharp twang of pain from colliding with the sturdy trunk, rubbing gingerly at his shoulder.

“Are you always this clumsy?” Your lips curve in a lovely grin, and Minho feels his ears grow hot.

“I’m sorry, I’m new here, I didn’t…” he manages to choke out, too drawn in by the way your eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief.

“Sooo, should I call you New Here, or…” you trail off, and Minho pauses, a few silent breaths passing between you before he finally gets it. His name. You were asking for his name.

“Minho.”

“Ah. Minho. I’m ____.”

“You dance well,” Minho manages to blurt out.

The words felt heavy on his tongue, like it’d been ages since he’d talked to someone unfamiliar, too caught up in his comfortable ways. His schedule had been simple. Eat, sleep, dance, repeat. And of course go home to feed the cats. But being here felt like challenging everything he’d known.

“You noticed?” You raise an eyebrow in question, and Minho can tell that you’re wondering whether he’s being genuine or saying it just to say it. You were probably used to it – fleeting tourists who flirted for a brief moment before disappearing into the night, too captivated by your beauty to act reasonably.

Maybe he was a fool then too.

“I dance as well. Not here though. Back home. It’s different,” he steps closer, heart warming when you don’t back away, honoured that he’s won your trust. Dance was a language he could always speak, no matter where he was in the world.

“Different isn’t always bad,” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “What do you dance?”

“Hip-hop,” he rambles, feeling his shyness dissipate when you tune in to the conversation. “It’s not like you, I mean you were–, wow, but I like to tell stories. When I dance.”

He feels himself grow warm at his stilted words, silently cursing the fact that he hadn’t taken Chan up on those English lessons when he’d met up with him for coffee last time. But he never imagined he’d be here.

Your smile only grows as you nod your head along with his words, understanding exactly what he meant.

“So, Minho, what brings you here? To Barcelona.”

Minho bristles, unsure how to answer the question. There were so many reasons, and you were a complete stranger. Did he dare reveal the truth?

“Here, I can be lost, I think,” Minho whispers, hoping you’ll know he means in more than ways than one. “Seoul is different. I think too much. The noise hurts.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I moved here six years ago, and sometimes it feels like I’m living inside a painting. It’s both magical and lonely sometimes.”

A flicker of relief washes over him. You understood him. Minho had been searching for so long for someone who understood – his friends could comfort him, but they didn’t really get it. The paralysis he felt.

“You’re kind. Kind and good at dancing,” he grins shyly, bunny teeth poking through his lips.

“You’re good with words,” you tease back. “You should have been a writer instead.”

“Too late for that now,” Minho sighs, his entire figure slumping, and he watches you freeze. He wants to tell you it’s not your fault he feels this way, that you didn’t do anything, but the words remain clogged in his throat.

“Well it’s barely 10pm. I wouldn’t say it’s that late,” you say, voice filled with warmth, and Minho slowly comes back to himself, giving you a chuckle.

“Can I, you, we, go somewhere? Together?”

Minho watches you pause for a moment, scared that what he’d offered caused you to hesitate. But something about you made him want to keep talking to you, even if it was only for tonight.

“Sure, I’d love to.” He watches your eyes scrunch in enthusiasm. “I can show you some of my favourite places around the city.”

You beckon to him with a hand, gesturing to the shadowy streets. Minho gulped – this was the biggest risk he’d taken since being here, almost a risk as big as leaving Korea. But with the way you’d captured him from the very first moment he’d seen you tonight, he wondered if it might just be one that paid off.

The night air hums with a new kind of energy as Minho follows you through the streets – whereas before, it all seemed a blur, now the city had truly come alive in his eyes. He peered through the windows of every building you passed, watching happy patrons laugh with each other, the heady buzz of alcohol in their veins.

Minho’s stomach only grumbles louder at the thought of booze, a pang of hunger hitting him. Embarrassed, he braces a hand around his stomach, hoping you haven’t caught on —

But you’re more perceptive than he gives you credit for, already turning around to face him.

“Okay, I definitely know where we need to go first,” you flick his arm, and Minho yelps at the surprising amount of force in the tiny jab. “You can’t dance on an empty stomach.”

Minho wants to tell you that he’d never planned on dancing at all, wasn’t even sure if he could anymore, but you’re forging ahead, on a mission.

A couple of blocks later, and Minho is hit with a tantalizing array of scents – the zing of freshly ground spices, the florality of fresh fruits, and the richness of cooked meats.

“Welcome to one of my favourite places in Barcelona,” you grin, gesturing to the wide variety of stalls laid out in front of you both. “Please take your pick.”

Minho knows exactly what he wants, heading straight for a stall serving paella. He’d passed too many damn places with the stuff already, he wasn’t going to miss out on it this time.

You following along, practically skipping with him, eyes alight with excitement.

Minho falters when the kind old gentleman running the stall greets him with an ¡hola!.

“I, uh, uno, por favor,” he stutters, ears burning with embarrassment.

You step in, gracefully saving Minho from his shame, quickly tittering off a huge order to the stall owner, and Minho feels himself relax.

“He said it’ll take a little bit for the food,” you tell him. “Do you want to explore for a bit?”

Bobbing his head yes, Minho wishes he could so badly take your hand as you weave through the market. But he wasn’t sure if you’d find that overstepping. Whatever he felt, all he knew was that the night seemed endless in the best way, full of possibilities.

The loud voices of the vendors and the clanging of different pots meld together like s symphony in his head, and Minho feels his cold limbs fill up with warmth. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come out of this trip being able to dance again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees something that makes him stop in his tracks. He taps you on the shoulder, and your face falls with concern, but when you turn to see what he’s pointing at, your eyes light up again.

“Hola,” Minho approaches the flower stall more confidently this time. The fresh scent of many different blooms makes him think of his mother’s garden in Korea, full of mugunghwas. He sees the brilliant hue of a bouquet of red carnations, and silently puts up a finger, his eyes darting to you.

The lady running the stall understands him immediately, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She grabs one from the bunch, taking special care to trim the stem. Minho rummages around in his pocket for some spare change, handing the lady more than she probably charged him for, but his heart thuds as he turns around, holding the flower out.

“For you,” he says shyly. “You’re a good guide.”

He watches your lips part in a surprised oh!, and your entire face changes colour when he holds out the flower, suddenly becoming just as shy.

“Oh Minho, you shouldn’t have… thank you.”

You take the flower from him, thumbing at the soft petals and inhaling the sweet scent. You’d received hundreds of flowers in your lifetime, huge bouquets filled with every single kind you could think of, but somehow Minho’s humble gift of a single stem makes you feel the most special. Like he actually sees you.

The two of you remain there for a few moments, unable to follow the exchange with words, until you catch the lady from the stall eyeing you both curiously.

“I think… I think maybe we should go eat,” you finally manage to breathe out, breaking the haze of the exchange. You weren’t sure why it had been so charged, a still moment amidst the hectic market, but it felt like something you’d want to hold on to.

"___?” Minho looks at you, his voice soft. “I’m glad I came here. With you.”

You met his gaze, heart beating just a little faster.

"Me too."

Belly full, Minho follows you again through the city. Anyone looking at the two of you would think he was a little lost cat, following you around. But really, it was the opposite. Something about him made you want to stay with him. In your six years in the city, you hadn’t made very many friends. You chalked it up the the demanding nature of your job, saying you were always tired after dance practice and your feet were sore from wearing pointe shoes 85% of the time.

But you knew that was mostly an excuse. Right here, right now, it felt nice being with someone. Sharing things with someone. It only made you think of what would happen when the night would end, and Minho would leave, your loneliness welcoming you into the abyss once more.

Turning the corner, you spot it. The cozy bar was tucked away on a quiet street, its silence punctuated by the soft clinking of glasses.

Pushing the wooden door ajar, you lead Minho into the small, quaint space, filled with flickering candles and the scent of citrus and spices. The bartender sees you come in, waving a hand in greeting, and his grin only widens more when he sees Minho trail in behind you.

“Hello Kento,” you wave back, and Minho pauses again, studying the man across the bar.

“おはようございます (ohayu gozaimasu),” Minho’s low voice rumbles among the quiet din of the bar, and your jaw drops open in surprise. Minho does nothing but wink, moving to a quiet corner to pull out a chair for you.

Kento comes by to take your order, tempting you both with some of the fine-label vermouth he keeps under the bar, and you watch Minho quietly converse with him for a few moments, exchanging hushed words in Japanese.

His voice is pretty, you think. In another life maybe he could have been a singer.

“You’re full of surprises,” you tease him, watching him fidget with his napkin.

“Tokyo is close by to Seoul,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “And I like to watch animes.”

“Where did you come from Minho? Why haven’t we met before?” You give him a wide grin.

Minho becomes quiet, his handsome face marred by what seems to be a dark cloud.

“Leaving Korea was not my plan,” he manages to grunt. “I have things there. My cats. An apartment. Dancing.”

“So what made you do it?” The words slip out, and instantly you regret them, watching pain twinge on his face. You’d hit an unexpected nerve.

“I’m looking for something,” he admits. “I don’t know what it is. My friend Hyunjin told me about Barcelona.”

“Well I think we were always meant to meet then. Hyunjin sent you to me so I can help you,” you reach over, grabbing his hand within yours. Under the dim light you study it – muscled and with prominent veins. He had a dancer’s body for certain. “Us lonely dancers only have each other to rely on huh?”

“Dancing made me happy. I, uh, what’s the word, like clothes, they–” he stumbles through his thoughts, but you don’t need him to voice them.

“Fit. It makes you feel like you belong.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?” you blurt out, instantly regretting it when he recoils. “I’m sorry Minho, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Kento swings by then, with two glasses of vermouth, rich, and slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. Watching Minho knock back the alcohol, you see his body loosen up, instantly feeling the tension from the previous conversation melt away.

“Have you ever had a bad dance?” Minho asks, brown eyes glimmering with interest.

“Oh, many times,” you respond with a light laugh. “One time, when I just moved here, I slipped during a performance of Swan Lake in front of a huge crowd. I locked myself in my apartment for a week.”

Minho chuckles, but then leans in, like he’s genuinely concerned. “How did you recover?”

You know he’s probably talking about the smarting ankle you must have had, but you think he means more.

“I walked in the next week and continued dancing like nothing happened, But it took time to get over. The pressure to be perfect can be overwhelming sometimes.”

Minho nodded, understanding the weight of expectations when it came to doing what you both loved.

“I want to let go,” he says, gaze softening. “But it’s hard.”

“I believe in you, Minho. You’ll find the music again.”

“For you, I’ll try,” he teases softly, but you can hear the hint of determination in his voice.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled. You realize this entire time, you hadn’t let go of Minho’s hand. And he hadn’t made you either. Pulling him up with you, Minho yelps in surprise, barely having a second to wave goodbye to Kento before you’re dragging him through the door, back out into the cold night.

“I think I know something that may help.”

Buzzing from the alcohol, you drag Minho deeper into the neighbourhood, the glow of the streetlights casting a warm golden hue over the cobblestones.

Heat radiates from where his palm meets yours, a soft breeze helping to calm the racing of your heart. Eventually, you hear it – the echo of a faint tune reverberating from the nearby buildings, and you know you’re almost there. A group of street musicians come into view, their lively jig fading away to a slower, more sensual melody.

“You’ve been talking this entire time about being bad at dancing, but I haven’t seen you actually do it,” You giggle, eyes gleaming with mischief. You take a few steps towards the middle of the square, beckoning Minho with a playful grin. “Come on.”

You watch Minho stall, and your heart races, thinking maybe you messed up. Maybe it was too soon for him, maybe he was scared and didn’t want to try again.

“Here? In front of everyone?” he replied, chewing nervously at his lip.

“Why not?” you challenge. “Forget everyone else. It’s just you and me. Two people who love to dance.”

You squeeze Minho’s hand in yours, squealing in shock when he pulls you close to him, arm wrapping around your waist. Leaning into his chest, you inhale his warm, woody scent, feeling yourself shiver.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But don’t think badly of me.”

“I could never,” you whisper into his neck.

Minho chuckles at that, stepping back to dramatically bow, before sweeping you into his arms once more. You move into the open space of the plaza, surrendering to the rhythm as the notes of the music envelope you both. Pressing lightly into Minho, your hand comes to rest in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me more about you,” you breathe against his lips. “I want to know.”

“My cats, they’re called Soonie, Doongie and Dori, they live with me in my apartment,” he smiles, pride taking over his expression when he thinks of them. “You?”

You twirl free from him, dress flaring for a moment,, then spin back, hand finding his once more.

“My mother was a ballet dancer. She hurt herself when I was young and could never dance again. It’s why I chose to follow her,” you admit, finally letting yourself break free from the walls you’d built.

You let your arms float gracefully above your head, marveling at the way you and Minho moved together. His movements were fluid and free, a sharp contrast to your precision, bodies weaving together like the finest tapestry. The air between you crackled, the pull between you like two halves of a magnet.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho says, his gaze intense as it meets your eyes, then travels, to your lips, down your neck, even further. You feel a throb between your legs, sparks erupting across your skin everywhere he touched.

The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to pulse with every beat of the music. The world no longer felt as big or scary anymore, narrowed down to the two of you, everything else fading into the background.

Suddenly, the scene around you spins, and you’re looking up at the stars, Minho’s face hovering above yours. You lean in, lips ghost against his jaw.

“Am I distracting you, Minho?” His breath caught at your query, and he sighs, drinking in the subtle scent of your skin.

You gasp when he spins you around, back meeting his front. Shivers run up your spine when he leans in, chuckling in your ear.

“Yes, but I like it,” he groans, low voice ringing in your ears, and everything around you fades as you begin to move together. Hips swaying side to side, Minho’s palms settle below your waist, so close to where you need him, and you whine softly. Even though you’re turned away, you can feel his smirk in your ear, and it all feels like it’s too much. Yet you don’t want it to stop.

The haze lifts with one particular thrust of his hips into you. A small moan leaves your mouth, and everything clears, and your heart begins to race. Shakily, your eyes meet Minho’s, surprised to find them blown out in deep pools of lust.

Minho’s shaking fingers cup the line of your jaw, his lips pressing against yours. You comd your fingers through his hair, sighing against him, finally giving in. He kisses you first with the utmost gentleness, pulling back to search your eyes for anything wrong.

Despite the chill in the night air, you’ve never felt warmer.

When you nod no, Minho leans in again, his previous gentleness giving way to hunger, the tip of his tongue gliding past your lower lip, sighing at your taste. You feel like you’ll keel over if he’s not holding you, all the blood in your body rushing away from your head.

When he finally pulls away, breathless and wide-eyed, you feel your words clogged in the back of your throat.

“I-,” you struggle, seeking brief respite from the emotions coursing through you, but not wanting the moment to end.

“I didn’t expect this night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, filled with awe.

“I’m glad it did,” Minho replied.

Looking around, you realize the music had long stopped, the band dispersing, no sign that they were even there to witness you and Minho’s dance.

“Do you have to go?” Minho asks, and his voice sounds impossibly small, like he’s afraid to know the answer.

You pause. So much waited for you ahead – performances, errands, the struggles of daily life in a foreign city. But you decided that right now, you had more than enough time to leave that behind.

Shaking your head, you nod no, air swirling with the thrill of the unexpected. And you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

Minho feels the breeze ruffle his hair, and lets his eyes close, shoulders sighing in relief. The lapping of the waves against the shore becomes even louder, the sound of traffic and other people fading away. The sand squishes in between his toes, and he lies back on his jacket, looking straight up at the stars. For the first time since he’d left Seoul, Minho felt completely at peace. Whereas uncertainty scared him before, now he completely welcomed the unknown. After all, it was what had lead him to you.

Minho feels his body heat when he thinks of you two dancing in the square, your face looking up at his, the feeling of your soft lips. It’d been so long since he was last with someone – dance always took over his life, leaving little time for love. But he thinks that maybe he’d been going about it all wrong.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see you lying right next to him on top of your coat. He can feel the warmth radiating from you, your hair tousled by the sea breeze and flying in the wind.

He really wants to kiss you again.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, letting the rhythmic crash of waves fill in for the unspoken words in between you.

“Hey,” you interrupt the quiet with a whisper, like you’re afraid to shatter the serenity of this moment.

“Hey,” Minho says back, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. His fingers linger a little too long on your cheekbone before he drops it.

You stare at him, swirling patterns in the sand between you.

“I get it, you know. How you feel. I feel it every day when I dance. Ballet is beautiful, but it’s also... constricting,” you sigh. “Sometimes I just want to be free – free to dance, to live, to love.”

Minho nods, feeling a lump in his throat.

“I also want that. But I’m scared. What if I’m free and I’m still not happy?”

There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness in his voice.

“I think happiness finds you when you least expect it,” you say gently, your voice like a gentle pat on the back.

Minho had never expected you at all. But he was glad you were here anyway.

“Can I kiss you?” He manages to choke out, heart racing as he takes in the way the moonlight casts shadows against the curve of your jaw and the softness of your lips. The urge to touch you again felt almost unbearable.

The space between you vanishes, and Minho sees you smile, leaning in closer, and his heart thuds in his chest. He reaches out again, pulling you towards him.

Your lips meet softly, shy and tentative compared to the way he kissed you in the square. It’s as gentle as the lulling of the waves, and Minho feels the world fade away, only able to register the cold sand underneath him, and you.

As you broke apart, breathless, Minho sees you search his face.

“What’s on your mind, Minho?”

Minho knows he’s always been pretty poor with words. Chan was the lyrical one in the friend group. Where Minho thrived, and always had, was action. So he decides to show you.

. . .

Minho leans in again, capturing your lips with a fierce urgency, releasing a euphoric sigh into your mouth. Not wanting to push more than you’re comfortable, he wants for you to respond, fingers carding into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in his chest.

You wonders if he knows you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand.

“I want you,” Minho finally manages to say. The words are strained, like he’s been holding them back for too long.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” your own voice cracks.” I thought you were just being nice.”

Because the truth was, you’d wanted him the very first moment you saw him. He may have thought little of himself, but he was a vision in your eyes. A masterpiece to be admired, a person to be cherished.

Minho pulls you into him, body meshing with yours, until you can no longer tell where he ends and you begin. You gasp when you feel his hardness underneath his jeans.

“I am not just nice,” he smiles against your lips. His hands cradle your face, before reaching his arms behind you, fingers ghosting down the the curve of your spine.

Kicking your shoes off, you feel his fingers run up and under your skirt, skimming against your bare legs and he your breath hitch, chest rising and falling in the pale light of the moon.

Lips falling to your neck, he inhales your sweet jasmine scent, teeth grazing lightly against the soft skin. You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He slides over you, using one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to slide your your dress down to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

The clink of his belt rings in your ears as both your clothes finally finish falling away, and desire pools between your legs. Sliding up against your warm coat, you spread your legs for him, a low hum escaping his parted lips at your messy arousal gleaming on your thighs in the low light. Trailing his eyes back up to your lips, he inches towards you, his breath tickling your bare skin as he leaves kisses on your jaw, your collarbone, in between your breasts. The veins in his arms bulge as his hands come up to cup both your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his fingers until they stiffen, and you let out a soft moan.

The teasing doesn’t stop, his lips enclosing over the hardened buds, messily sucking on them. While it felt amazing, you knew the sun would rise soon, and the time you had with each other was limited. You trap his hand in yours, guiding it to your throbbing clit. He nudges your legs, coaxing you to spread them further, before plunging a finger inside your wet heat, sliding it in and out. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, your pleas for more being answered swiftly as he slides a second one in, laying his head on your stomach as more and more of your arousal coats his fingers. You mewl, unable to contain your volume as you swallow them deeper, loving the rough drag against your slick walls. His thumb grazes your clit, rubbing it in slow, delicate circles before speeding up, rubbing faster, and his grunts of determination are what push you over the edge as you come.

Breath leaving you in heavy pants, your lips find his desperately, and he teases you with his tongue, his hard cock rubbing up against your wet entrance. You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pushing his cock in deeper, bucking his hips against yours as your nails dig into his back. “You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Minho, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the burning in between your thighs..

“That’s it,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, pulling out and jerking himself off, white ropes of cum splashing against his toned stomach and onto your stomach before slumping against you.

You can feel his his chest heave with the weight of his breaths, your sticky bodies curled around each other. You begin to shiver from the breeze, and Minho cradles your sticky body in his arms, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo)” he whispers against your cheek. You don’t know what the words mean, but you hold them close anyway.

When the first light of dawn washes over the beach, orange and pink and purple poking out from between the clouds, you both know it’s time. It’s hushed – an eerie silence falling in between you and Minho as you scramble to throw your layers back on, the sticky feeling between your thighs a reminder that it hadn’t all just been a dream.

From the corner of your eye, you see Minho hum absentmindedly to himself, running his fingers through his hair to tame the messy strands, and your heart lurches.

The silence remains as you bid the sea farewell, the familiar streets of the city you called home greeting you once more. Only this time, you felt like a stranger, unsure of where your relationship stood. You supposed the same could be said for the man next to you.

It takes a few short moments before you’re seated at a café, stirring your coffee pensively. The rich, bitter aroma mixes with the salt from the sea that sticks to your clothes, and you feel nauseous. Across from you, Minho was gazing out at the horizon, his expression pensive.

You knew it was only supposed to be temporary. One of those single brief moments where two strangers met each other, eventually passing like ships in the night, both of them holding onto the memory forever. So why did it hurt so much?

“Are you ready to go back to work?” Minho asked, his voice warm and gentle, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’ve been rehearsing for weeks. But…”

You hesitate, heart feeling heavy.

“I know,” Minho finishes your thought. “It feels different this time.”

“I love ballet, I really do,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “But dancing isn’t my whole life. I think I’m just like you Minho. I’ve been searching for something real, something that goes beyond the stage.”

You watch Minho’s face twist, like he wants to say something, and you already know he would have asked you if you’d found it. Because he’d been searching for the same thing. It felt so cruel to have it ripped from your grasp the moment the sun began to rise.

You shared a moment of silence, the weight of everything hanging between you. You took a sip of your coffee, but instead of calming you, the warm liquid only makes your heart race.

“What are you going to do?” You asked Minho, watching his face jump to meet your gaze. “After tonight?”

“Go back to Seoul,” Minho struggles to keep his voice steady. “Maybe take a break from dance, to try something new.”

“Do it,” you encouraged, voice wobbling. “You owe it to yourself to explore what brings you joy. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

The café soon begins to fill with the clink of dishes, the laughter of patrons, the aroma of freshly baked pastries. It felt surreal, almost like a scene from a movie.

Minho reached across the table, his hand covering yours. “Thank you ___. For everything. I wish I knew how to say more.”

You squeezed his hand gently, eyes glistening. “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise you won’t forget this.”

You won’t forget me.

While you and Minho labour through finishing your breakfast, the clock behind you continues ticking, each passing second a reminder that time was running out.

By the time you leave, the sun has fully risen, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Walking side by side, you travel deeper into the city, the streets blurring into each other until you come upon a familiar one. The one that leads to your apartment. It was over.

“What did it mean?” you ask him, voice tinged with sadness. “What you said on the beach?”

Minho’s smooth voice had lingered in the back of your mind all morning, and you wished you knew Korean, that you could say something back to him. Like he’d tried for you.

Minho looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips, though his eyes were clouded with emotion.

“I can’t tell.”

Both of you knew it was because it might change everything.

You falter, wondering if you should say something, make a promise to keep in touch, to meet again. But it seems so useless, knowing Minho would probably never come back, and you’d never scrap together the time or money to fly to his side of the world.

You settle for throwing your arms around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. You bury your head into his neck, committing his familiar scent to memory, wishing it could last forever.

When you pull away, you’re already backing down the street, Minho’s somber expression looking after you.

“I guess this is it,” you said, voice trembling slightly.

Minho nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Take care of yourself, ___.”

The knot in your stomach only grows tighter when you see him step away, tears pricking your eyes. With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, the sunlight catching in his hair.

As he turned the corner, you whispered a silent wish to the rising sun, that no matter what happened, that Minho would be happy. And that if he was, maybe you could be too.

Adjusting your pointe shoes, the soft strains of music fill the air. You stand on your tip toes, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. What looks back at you looks the same as it always has – perfect form, straight posture, the picture of elegance. But only you know there’s something different now, a wild longing in your heart.

It had been months since that one night with Minho, but he’d never left your mind. Somehow, even though he was oceans away, his ghost trailed after you everywhere you went. When you spun, you could almost feel his hands around your waist, guiding you in a duet. When you came home to your apartment, you wished he was there, the two of you laughing over a cup of coffee. Every time you smelled the ocean breeze, you remembered his lips meeting yours, bodies tangled together in the sand.

He was everywhere and nowhere to be found, all at once.

When practice ends, you chat with your fellow dancers, wishing them a swift goodbye before running out the door.

When the longing built to its worst, you always knew where to go, the warmth of Kento’s bar waiting for you at the end of another rough day. Before, he would tease you, asking where your “special friend who spoke good Japanese” was, but now he only slides a matcha in your direction, his eyes sad while he chuckles about how you needed to cut back on the vermouth.

In a daze, you scroll through your phone, heart dropping when you realized there were no photos of Minho in your phone. The date remained a figment of your memory, like he’d never existed at all. And you had nothing to look back on.

Tears prick your eyes when you realize how stupid you’d been. So caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even thought of asking for his number, or any contact information. There were a million people named “Minho” from Seoul to wade through every time you opened social media to check.

You wondered if Minho thought of you as often as you thought of him. What was he doing now? Was he happy?

Sighing heavily, you decide you’ll probably never know the answer.

Until your phone buzzes.

. . .

Minho sighs deeply, his muscles aching from another grueling day in the studio. He feels Soonie brush against his feet, his oldest friend curling up into a ball at his feet, and he reaches down to scratch between his ears. Looking out over the balcony, the twinkling city lights of Seoul gleam back at him, but his thoughts are full of another place. And another person.

No matter how much he immersed himself in his routine—classes, rehearsals, and performances—something felt off. His friends would joke about his trip, saying he’d come back a changed man, like a monk who’d found enlightenment, but his serious expression always shut them down.

He hears footsteps on the balcony behind him, and Hyunjin comes to sit next to him, holding out a steaming cup of noodles in his hands.

“Eat hyung,” he scolds Minho. “You have to be exhausted from practice today.”

Minho accepts the cup, picking up a few with his chopsticks, but decides he can’t stomach them, staring absently at the cup.

“Hyung, I don’t mean to pry, but,” Hyunjin sounds unsure, like he’s poking a sleeping dragon. “What happened in Barcelona?”

Minho shoots up at Hyunjin’s perceptive question, knowing his pabo face was terrible at hiding things. Especially from his best friend.

Whereas Minho struggled to find the words with you, they all came flooding out in front of Hyunjin, recalling everything from the moment he saw you to how you continued to linger in his mind even now. How he couldn’t shake you no matter how hard he tried.

Hyunjin listens along, nodding his head in understanding, and finally leans back, brushing a hand over Soonie’s fur.

“Hyung, I know you’re stupid, but like, have you ever thought about just reaching out? Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“Hyunjin-ah,” Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand, it’s–”

“Complicated? What is so complicated about it? You like her. It sounds like she likes you. Why waste time on the what-ifs?”

Hyunjin pats him on the back, saying that if the weekend rolls around and Minho doesn’t have an update for him, he’ll threaten to air-fry him.

Minho sighs, taking a deep breath. He pulls out his phone and opens Instagram, thumb hovering over your username. He’d found you right after he’d left of course, easily putting your name and Barcelona together. But he’d never been able to take the final leap to reach out, to build on whatever had started that night.

But now, he decides he’s done wasting time.

When Minho steps off the plane, the air in Barcelona is thick with the smell of orange blossoms and the distant strumming of Spanish guitar. It had only taken a few messages back and forth for you two to fall into the same easy rhythm. Hyunjin teased him for constantly checking his phone for notifications from you, but deep down, he knew that his friends wanted him to chase whatever made him happy.

It hadn’t taken much longer for him to decide to decide to book a flight, seeing an ad for the ballet troupe’s latest performance on your Instagram story. Now, as he watches the streets pass by in the cab, he feels like he might be nauseous, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

But then he thinks back to how one night hand changed everything, and decides that you’re a chance worth taking.

When he arrives at the performance hall, Minho ducks by the crowd, slipping into the plush velvet seat. Around him, the audience buzzes with excitement, but Minho pays them no mind, his eyes trained on the stage, dark for now.

When the lights go down and the curtains draw back, Minho has to hold in his breath. It was exactly like the first time.

You, in your silver and white costume, gliding across the stage like a wisp of smoke, letting the music lead you wherever you needed to go. Your performance cries with unspoken passion and longing and Minho wonders if all this time, you’ve felt the same way, unable to let him go like he had with you.

Minho doesn’t know if minutes or hours pass before the music finally stops, but he pushes his way through the audience, moving against the crowd to find the backstage exit. To find you.

. . .

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t come back here, this is only for performers…”

The security guard’s voice booms at the door to the dressing room, and Sakura, your fellow dancer, nudges you, rolling her eyes. A laugh bubbles in your throat, wondering what crazy person had made their way backstage, but then you hear it.

A voice that stops you in your tracks. One you thought you’d never hear again.

“Please, I just need to –, please,” it begs, and you’re up out of your chair before you can even stop yourself.

Pushing past the guard, your eyes widen in disbelief when you see Minho outside. He looks different now, hair longer, and maybe the colour had changed, but the real difference is in his eyes. No longer empty, they light up when they see you.

“Minho?” You whisper, unable to believe that it’s actually real. That he’s actually here.

“Surprise,” he grins, taking a step towards you.

The security guard eyes you both suspiciously, Minho in his long trench and crisp pressed slacks, and you in your sweats, the remnants of your shimmery makeup still lingering on your face, before he slips away.

“What are you doing here?”

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo). It means that I want you to stay together with me,” he admitted, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you both.

Tears of happiness shimmered in your eyes as you moved closer, closing the distance between you two.

“I thought you were just being nice,” you joke, but it comes out a sob.

Minho took your hands in his, and you feel the warmth radiate from his skin.

“I am not just nice,” he smiles, reaching over to thumb away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. His lips fill the spot where the tear had once been.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your temple. “I have to show you something.”

. . .

Hand in hand, the cobblestone streets of Barcelona greet you both once more, only this time, everything had changed.

Minho comes to a pause right then, feeling the weight that he’d been shouldering for months finally lift from his shoulder now that he had you in his arms again.

“Do you remember this place?” he asked.

You looked around, a smile spreading across your face as recognition dawned. “This is where we danced that night.”

“Will you dance with me again?,” he poses, his chest filled with fear and trepidation, but also hope.

You take a step back, sinking into a deep bow in front of him. Minho grins, catchind your hand to spin you back towards him. The world around you faded as you began to move together, time stopping for the both of you.

As he slowed, breathless and beaming, he feels you burrow into the crook of his neck., whispering against his skin.

“Am I distracting you Minho?”

Minho tilts his chin up to meet your gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yes, but I like it,” he breathes, closing the gap to crash his lips against yours. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Minho.”

The sun would rise again tomorrow. But this time, you’d be by his side.

a/n pt. 2: this reminds me of Collision!Minho a bit, they're like two sides of the same coin haha. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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stoneybun · 24 days ago

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College reader loses motivation due to mental health and struggles to take care of self so schlatt gets in the shower w them and does their hair routine, washes their face and holds them, avoiding their waves lol. (Can you tell its self indulgent?)

Anon are you in my head because this is literally what i've been going thru I'm also catering this to me a bit,, Schlatt x fem reader Everything ached. Your head, shoulders, back, fuck even your eyes ached. It had become a known feeling. You were burning out, if not already there. Schlatt had noticed the signs, subtly trying to help you along the way yet also trying to let you handle yourself. He'd get your products out and lined up for you, even trying to have you start a routine with him in hopes it'd make it easier. But now nothing was working, and he knew he needed to do something about it. You weren't going to go through this alone. Not if he was around. You opened your eyes in response to feeling large hands on your body, gently caressing your sides with a familiar soft warmth against your back. You'd woken up a few times already only to drift back off to sleep, your body forcing itself to shut down. Right now the sensation of being caressed so gently was the only thing keeping you awake; until you feel the familiar sensation of facial hair scratching the sensitive skin of your neck, it being the chops of your boyfriend. "Doll, as beautiful as y' are layin' like this in bed, y' gotta get up," he murmurs against your skin before pressing a few featherlight kisses. You hum, leaning backward and feeling your back press against him, melting into his lazy embrace as he held you from behind. It was only around 11 in the morning on a Saturday, but he was getting antsy. Almost like when Jambo will come loudly meow at you both if his automatic feeder was empty. "Don' wanna move," you groan, eliciting a scoff from him. "Never said y' gotta," he grumbled, making you confused. "Bubba, wh-" He slides his arms to pick you up, one arm hooked under your knees and the other supporting your back as he lifted you up bridal style. He loved carrying you, thinking it was utterly adorable the way your breath hitched, eyes wide as if you never expected him to pick you up. It made your heart flutter as he carried you like you weighed nothing despite your own negative thoughts the always knew just how to dissipate. He gently adjusts you in his arms for a moment before pushing the bathroom door open, kicking it shut behind him before having you sit on top of the closed toilet. "I'm not a baby," you protest with a tired, lopsided grin. His eyes light up a little at the sight of your smile, delighted that he's keeping you happy even in a time like this. "Ehhh, whatever y' say," he quips, a smug grin forming on his face, watching his eyes crinkle for a moment before he turned to turn the shower on, getting the temperature just right. You had instinctively started to stand up after he stepped away from the edge of the shower, lazily leaning your head against the side of his arm. "You didn't have to start a shower for me, y'know," you mumble, honestly feeling a little pathetic with how much you'd been lacking in self-care recently. It was just too much between it all; classes, maintaining social life, assignments and exams that never seemed to end. You thought college would get better over the years, learning to roll with it all, but you only seemed to slip further and further away from being an actual put-together adult. "Started it for us, actually," Schlatt corrected in a playful tone, trying to pull you out of the spiral he knew was bubbling in your mind. You two had showered before, but the proposition still always gave you butterflies. "Oh, um, okay," you stammer, making him shake his head and smile in amusement. "Y' still can't get over how fuckin' hot I am, huh, sweetheart?" he taunts, making your cheeks and ears redden and you huff. "Shut the fuck up," you grumble, making Schlatt bark out a laugh, the two of you shedding your clothes casually. His eyes were glued to you in the process, his gaze full of admiration and longing despite you being about three feet away from him. Can't a guy just be completely enamored by his girl?

The two of you finally get in the shower, Schlatt helping you in first as you let out a pleased groan once the warm water starts to rain down, kissing your skin with a soothing amount of pressure. Schlatt steps in behind you, slowly turning you towards him, guiding you to lean your head back by placing a curled finger under your chin. "Relax, hun. I got'cha," he speaks as his free hand comes up to start running his fingers through your hair, letting the water soak in and further massaging your scalp like he personally was trying to massage the migraine out of you. "I can do it mysel-" you start, bringing a hand up to attempt and grab Schlatt's wrist only to hear him scoff. "Just let me do it, would ya?" he groans, almost sounding needy, like he couldn't bare the thought of not pampering you right now, wanting to see the bliss on your face as he gave you the care you deserved. You finally gave in once he started to lather shampoo into your hair, your eyes fluttering as one of his hands easily could work the product into your hair. The suds were coating your locks and his hand, his other hand was placed on your waist, his grip just hard enough to let you know he wasn't going anywhere. You couldn't help but lean into his body during this. And if you could fall asleep standing, you probably would, the sweet nothings coming from his mouth making your heart swell beyond how it already felt with him caring for you like this, your eyes opening enough to gaze up at the sweet man you had the pleasure of calling your boyfriend. You noticed the way he didn't even catch your gaze, his eyes focused on your hair as he was rinsing the shampoo out and starting to work in conditioner. His hair was flattened, his chocolate curls more evident now that his hair was wet and pressing against his face, chops having water beaded on them, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. Being lost in your own world of admiring your boyfriend, he blinks upon realizing your warm gaze, making him smile with a flustered nature to it. "Keep lookin' at me like that and we won't leave this damn shower," he grumbles, trying to act like his heart wasn't melting in his chest right now as he reached for the bottle of specific face wash you had, having tried one of those 'catered to you' brands. "That a threat or a promise, bub?" you quip with a snicker, making him roll his eyes fondly. "You'll find out, won't you?" he played along while softly applying the face cleaner to your skin, using his middle and ring fingers and gently massaging you in circular motions. All you could do was giggle, letting his hands work their magic. After rinsing you off, he finally started to wash your body, taking ample amounts of restraint to keep his touch respectful. He knew you wouldn't mind, it just wasn't the time for it. "You're so perfect," he can't help but mutter, almost like it was supposed to stay to himself as his lips pressed to your shoulder, his proximity making your stomach flip despite the fact he's been holding you in place this whole time. The fog in your brain from finally feeling relaxed made it hard to respond, just leaning further into him, practically using him to keep yourself standing. He doesn't comment on that, just finishing the shower with you and shutting the water off once he was convinced the two of you were done. He grabs your robe that he had custom-made for you and helps you slide it on, pressing a kiss to the top of your head despite your hair dripping wet. "Y'want me to brush your hair for ya, doll?"

A/N: I kinda blacked out writing this

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt x reader #schlatt x you #jschlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff #hope this suffices #need him to baby me and give me princess treatment #being in my second to last semester has me.... yeah

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thewayitalknj · 9 months ago

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Part 2 ; A continuation from my blurb which can be read here.

Quick Notes - HOLY CRAP. I honestly didn't expect that to blow up, or to get asks to write a Part 2. Thank you all so much for your support, it means A LOT. My little writers heart is so so happy! I hope you enjoy! :)

---

"Loud and clear." He whispers, staring at the top of the stairs.

"I'm...I'm going to go check on her." Everyone in the room nodded their heads as Eddie walked up the stairs. Once he reached the outside of your door he knocked three times.

You humph from your pillow, "I told you I'm not-"

"It's me." He says. Panic. Instant panic runs through your body. You immediately throw all the blankets over you and turn the other way.

"You can come in, I'm just laying down." You didn't want to be rude ; nor did you want to take out your anger on him. He did nothing wrong.

Actually, he did. Eddie Munson made you fall in love with him.

With the turn of the knob you quickly wipe your face with the bedsheet, hoping he wouldn't even share a glance with you. Each creek of the wooden floor made your stomach turn.

"I came back in to help but they told me you weren't feeling well so I wanted to check on you."

"That's sweet Eddie but I'm okay. Maybe it's just a bad stomach ache. I'm going to shower and then head to bed." You can feel yourself sinking, wishing he would just leave.

He rocks back and forth on his heels, "you sure? Want me to make you a s'more?"

"No thanks. But thank you."

"...okay. Well, I hope you feel better." He sighs closing the door, not being able to find the words to comfort you. The moment it shuts you begin crying again.

This sucks, this really fucking sucks. Out of all the times you have been there for Eddie yet this time the roles are reversed and he can't be there for you. You knew wallowing in your sorrows wouldn't help, or be beneficial to your mental health. So you took your shower, did your daily night routine and headed straight to bed. No goodnights, no see you in the mornings, no sweet dreams.

Tomorrow would start a new day, a day where you would have to find the courage to finally get over your feelings for your best friend.

As Eddie entered the kitchen he looked defeated, guilty even. Argyle and Jonathan joined the rest of the group inside, now all caught up on the situation.

"Is she okay?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah..she uh, is going to wash up and then go to bed."

"Dude, you gotta tell her."

______

When the alarm clock goes off at 9am you practically slam your fist down on it and groan in your pillow. "Ed?" No response. You pick your head up and see his bed empty. Odd, because the last few days you've always woken up together. After brushing your teeth and making yourself look decent for the morning you head on downstairs.

It's quiet, too quiet. You're confused, so very confused. You walk through the living room, you check your friends bedrooms. Nothing. No one was to be found. The fuck?

Walking into the kitchen, Eddie is sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee. "Morning." He says.

"Um...hi?"

"Why the face?" You turn around and look back at him.

"It's just...where is everyone?"

"Oh, they left."

"They-What?" You stutter.

Your baffled. Bewildered. Unbalanced. Because in this moment, you realized, once again ; you are left alone with Eddie.

Quick Notes - ...so, uh...part 3 anyone???

Click Here to Read Part 3

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Blurb #Eddie Munson fanfic #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson x Reader #Kierstyn Writes

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swanwonyoung · 18 days ago

Text

my simple wonyoungism routine ᡣ𐭩

‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ೀ

hello everyone ! i was writing about what i want to keep doing in march, and since i fully came back to wonyoungism, i wrote what i want to keep doing and what i don't, i also wrote a mini guide on paper, that helps me know what works for me, and i thought about sharing with you guys, i hope it's easy to understand and that you like it 🧸ྀི xo, sunny.

ᯓ★ what works for me in wonyoungism ★ᯓ

waking up early and going to bed early is helping me maintain the routine i want and is helping me build the habit of having discipline;

basic skin care routine, washing my face 3 times everyday (or more if needed), moisturizer helps me a lot too, sunscreen i forget sometimes but i'm trying not to, because it's the main step everyone needs, i don't do a lot, but exfoliating once a week and using the face moisturizer already helps me to have a nicer skin;

writing, journaling, just putting my thoughts on paper helps me maintain mental clarity instead of getting worked up over anything;

lucky vicky mindset, this one changed my life and i'm not even joking, i started 2025 like someone so much more positive and i've never been like that, and now I'm only getting better at it, i can't even think about being negative, i already consider this a lesson that will pass and i'll learn more about myself, it really helps;

stretching, at any time actually, when waking up, in the middle of a task, in the afternoon, before going to sleep, any time, after all it helps me to get rid of the tension that my body may be feeling at the moment;

studying ! even though i graduated from high school in 2020, i never stopped studying, and i even started studying other languages, making it an official part of my routine for 3 years, because before i studied randomly, this helps me to always be up to date and pay attention to everything.

"But... is the routine already finished?"

"What do you mean with you don't do a complete routine where you don't have time to rest?"

"Where are the 10 skin care steps?"

well, i know some people see those toxic wonyoungism routines and think that everyone in wonyoungism does this kind of stuff, actually that was one of my purposes in writing this post, to bring back the essence of wonyoungism and remind people that not everything they see on the internet is real, there will always be a good and bad side to any aesthetic/trend, as it depends on the person who is practicing it.

and many people on the toxic side created a version of wonyoung that doesn't even exist, they took the strawberry and milk scene and made that "her routine", EVEN when she was still on izone she said that teenagers (like she was) shouldn't go on diets, they created a routine where people have to wake up super early, not sleep properly because some people have difficulty, anyways, they created a bunch of lies and made people follow the same toxic routine.

and this kind of routine was never part of my wonyoungism and I don't even support it, i believe that we should all be free to make our interpretation of something as long as it doesn't harm another person, and my wonyoungism is not just about glow up or lifestyle, it also involves my mental health and my mindset.

and now we finally found the part i wanted to talk about, what i think inside and outside of wonyoungism and what effect it has on my life :

I think that being negative instead of positive only hurts me, so i try to see the bright side of the situation or how i can turn it into something good, instead of going back to the old habit of being negative;

With wonyoungism I see my routine as something more fun and worthy of being romanticized, but without going overboard! And that helps me move forward every day;

I take everything Wonyoung says and try to adapt it to my reality, and it helps me see the world in a way i didn't see before, it happens almost every day;

Even when I do pilates or workout at home (i recommend hinafit on yt, I think about what this will bring me and what this will help improve in my life, for example, the disposition and energy I need to help me move daily;

To study I always think about what I want for the future and how this is helping me a lot right now so this future can actually become real, and this motivates me to be better and learn a lot;

I have a flexible routine, so I can be productive every day in different ways that don't tire me out;

but have a specific time to wake up and sleep so that my body and mind get used to it (6 am club 🎀) and i'm feeling way better now;

I could even write more about it , but as I mentioned, my routine changes every day, but I try to have some fixed things in it that I like to do every day, even if it's at different times, and I'm slowly getting back to my simple workout or Pilates routine, because I had my wisdom teeth removed and couldn't do much.

If you're confused, here are some things I like to do (almost?) every day:

to dance (trying to create my choreographies);

sing (and attempt to write songs);

to write (journal or anything);

learn japanese or korean (or any other i want to);

stretching;

listen to music and study anything i want;

learn about fashion, personal growth, self-love, self-respect, habits, routines, and more;

obviously i watch my favorite kpop groups on youtube, but when i want motivation i watch ive's content;

i like watching documentaries, films and series, and getting a lot of my knowledge from the;

stay silent and think, without using my phone or watching TV, i just like to stay silent and think about everything (this is how the inspiration for my posts begins);

leisure time: playing games on my phone, or the sims 4 on the video game, watching videos on YouTube (not kpop), dancing and singing a lot, lots of things ngl;

and while I was writing my mini wonyoungism schedule for this whole year, I had this reflection here:

Instead of regretting what you didn't do (whether it was the day before yesterday or years in the past), start doing what you need or want to do right now, Don't put it off until later, because you're disappointing the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with, yourself.

written by swanwonyoung on tumblr 🦢

#wonyoungism #sunny's glow up #the diary of sunny #the visions of sunny #self growth #glow up

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ofmdrecaps · 4 months ago

Text

10/29-30/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Con O'Neill; Nathan Foad; David Fane/Rachel House; MCM Comic Con Coverage w/AdoptOurCrew; In Person Events: Calypso's Birthday in Pittsburgh; Fan Spotlight: Gay Pirate News Hour; NeverLeftPodcast; AMuseOfFyre: Badmintons!; Love Notes;

Hey lovelies, my dad is once again trying to come home from the hospital tomorrow, and I am learning how to help with wound care, and tube feeds, so I have been completely and utterly wiped after coming home from that while also working full time (and no sleep because my kiddo had too much candy)-- so to be honest I have been taking some time to rest and doodle because I need it for my mental health! I'm slowly catching up, things are gonna be a bit bare bones while I get back into the groove of things. Hope you're all staying healthy and safe out there!

= David Jenkins =

Just a lovely picture of David and Kinga from earlier this year that Kinga shared a couple days ago.

Source: Kinga's Instagram

Also-- David's been sharing the adorable twerking gif by @smolbus over on twitter!

Source: David Jenkins Instagram

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys is keeping up with his Daily Doodles on his Substack! The last one there is.. uhm, well very specific (I love these goofy doodles btw I hope he never stops, reminds me of the Buttons McGinty illustrations). Check out the Darby Daily Doodles on his Substack!

Source: Rhys Free Substack

There are still tickets available for Rhys's Indianapolis show on Nov 7 at Helium Comedy Club! You can still get tickets here. The St Louis - Nov 8 - Helium Comedy Club is sold out!

If you're going to the IN show-- one of Rhys Buddies is really catering to the Rhys Darby fans and trying to giveaway his red solo cups that have been touched or looked at by Rhys! I'm so glad they know just how feral everyone is for Rhys Lightning.

And a quick clip of one of Rhys's Routines from the 25th anniversary!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Helium Comedy Club Indy (@heliumcomedyind)

instagram

Source: Helium Comedy Instagram

= Gizmo & Bumbles Darby =

As you know, I can't resist cat content, especially of Gizmo and Bumbles, so here you are-- Thanks Rosie for keeping us fed!

Source: Rosie's Instagram stories.

= Taika Waititi =

Taika was out at the world series, and the Dodgers won!

Source: Taika's Instagram

= Samba Schutte (and Con) =

Reminder! Samba's Death by Cheese class is one week away! Sat Nov 9th, at 10am PST online with Be Momentus!

Also check out this very goofy video of Samba and con Re: The dish you'll be making!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Samba Schutte (@sambaschutte)

instagram

Source: Samba's Instagram

= Nathan Foad =

When Nathan's not interviewing Kristian at cons, he's out with friends!

Source: Michelle Collins Instagram

= David Fane / Rachel House =

Moana2 just broke the 2024 record for most day 1 ticketing presales for an animated feature! Congrats Rachel, David, and Taika! So excited for you!

Source: Fandango's Instagram

= Con O'Neill =

After the recent showing of 'The Men' starring Con at the Alnwick Playhouse in the UK, Con did a Q & A with Rebecca of The Northern Film Blog! Check out the article below!

== MCM Comic Con Coverage ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew and their correspondents were kind enough film and transcribe some of the questions Nathan asked kristian at his panel at MCM Comic Con a couple weekends back! I'm sharing a screencap + the link to their tumblr posts with the videos (tumblr only lets me share one at a time on any given post) so please head over there and check them out! Question 1: "Nathan asks Kristian about his personal style and how the way he presents himself has changed over the years."

Question 2: Regarding Kristian's first time working with Revlon

Conversation About Kristan's Life Part 1

Conversation about Kristian's life PART 2:

== In Person Events: PA ==

It's that time again! Harold's Haunt in Pittsburgh PA will be hosting another Calypso's birthday, this time on Nov 9 at 6 pm!

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A post shared by Ringa Sunn (@ringasunn)

instagram

Source: Harold's Haunt Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Gay Pirate News Hour =

It's time for another Gay Pirate News hour! Catch it on Our Flag Means Fanfiction's Youtube at 1PM PT/ 4PM ET!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

= Never Left Podcast =

New episode of Never Left! This time talking about Flags! (Part 1!) Check it out on your favorite listening platform on their linktr.ee!

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram

= A Muse Of Fyre =

Our crewmate @amuseoffyre is back -- this time with the Badminton's! The Nigel flicking off the camera one is legit the funniest thing I've seen all week. Love it!

Source: Amuseoffyre's Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies, just a quick one tonight. I feel like TheLatestKate is basically just following me around because she always has new and appropriate love notes each week. Please please please go easy on yourself right now, you're doing so much, I know we all are. Please be kind to yourself, drink some water, and take a few extra moments of rest. You deserve it (whether you did a million things today, or just survived). Take care lovelies. See you soon.

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A post shared by @thelatestkate

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Source: The LatestKate Instagram

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bgomtori · 1 year ago

Text

☆ consume - c.bg

synopsis - you have a major exam coming up, after realising that you've been neglecting your health, beomgyu decides to step in.

-> beomgyu x reader

-> established relationship, high school au!

-> warnings! yn kinda starves herself and beats herself up for not remembering anything :( , pressure from studies, mental breakdowns and burnouts. yn is kind off a studies>you typa girl.

-> note! im having a big exam coming up soon, 'm extremely anxious.. so i kinda wanna write this to relieve somw stress :)

pressure, high standards, academic validation, from your parents, teachers and even yourself were taking a toll on you. staying coped up in your room for weeks, drowning yourself in revision notes, study guides, and past year papers. one may think that you were insane for being able to sit by your desk for such long hours, you thought the same too, but anything for your parents to tell you that they were proud of your achievements, anything to make yourself satisfied with yourself.

hours of cramming notes, and self study was definitely not easy. you'd often find yourself placing your phone under your pillow, preventing yourself from getting distracted by any notification from your friends or boyfriend. it wasn't any better, you'd often skip meals, your parents were usually out till late into the night, making it easier for you since no one forced you out of the room to eat. of course you'd take showers, make yourself refreshed before continuing your long study sessions, snacking on a few energy bars and drinks to pull all nighters to finish a chapter or subject. it was definitely not healthy, but this was like a routine for you when the year end exams were nearing.

you wouldn't be surprised if you arrived at school to see a panicked beomgyu standing by your lockers, glancing at his phone every now and then, wondering why you haven't replied to his calls or texts, he had a brief idea why, but he needed confirmation. you greeted him as per usual, your signature bright smile appearing on your lips, yet why does your eyes still look so tired? beomgyu's face was perplexed, were you staying up again.

"why haven't you replied my messages or calls yn?" beomgyu raised his eyebrows, you looked at him in confusion, switching on your phone to see 38 messages and 7 missed calls from beomgyu. you chuckled, wiping your sweaty palms against your shirt.

"i kinda turned off my phone, and placed it under my pillow so i wouldn't get distracted.. sorry." you apologised, feeling guilty, all beomgyu did was want to care for you, yet you're placing your studies over him. beomgyu sighed, combing his hair through his slender fingers, "i'm just worried for you yn.." his pout made you giggle, your hand patting beomgyu's squishy cheeks in reassurance, "i'll be alright."

"oh right, i'm staying back after school, one on one session with my teacher so you don't need to wait for me 'kay?" you informed, interlocking your arm to beomgyu's as you walked down the crowded hallway. beomgyu hummed in response to you, giving you a chaste kiss on your lips. "i'll see you in your classroom later." beomgyu bidded you goodbye, leaving you to make your way to your seat. scrolling on your phone, you read the messages your friends sent you, replying to all of them, apologising for worrying them so much.

"yn!" hanni called out, dragging a seat towards your desk, the scratchy sound against the floor tiles made you flinch in disgust. "what is it hanni." you replied, freezing at the sudden physical contact of her hugging you like a koala.

"you're not burning the midnight oil again right." hanni grumbled, removing herself from your shoulders. you shook your head, in hopes that she'd believe you. "lies! i know you all too well yn, this month is where you constantly shove your face in textbooks and study guides!" hanni basically shouted for the whole class to hear. you had to quickly shut her up by cupping your hand around her mouth.

"fine, you got me, but it's not like i'll die.." you whispered out the last part, making her gasp dramatically. you shushed her again, placing your index finger on your lips. "you need to take care of yourself yn, i don't want to see a repeat of last year ever again!" hanni nagged, similar to your mother, folding her arms as well. you felt yourself laugh nervously, you knew that you were slowly crawling back into the dark hole that you always find yourself in whenever the final exam season was soon.

classes went by slowly, you found yourself zoning out, bopping your head due to fatigue, you should have bought an energy drink during lunch earlier. after what seemed like hours, you last class was over, students from your class immediately left once the teacher dismissed them, you stayed put, waiting for everyone to leave while you slowly walked towards your teacher.

"sorry for troubling you ms lee.. but i really want to do well this year." you bowed, taking a seat infront of her. she shook her head, "you're fine yn, i can see that you're putting in the effort, that's what i'm proud of." you felt yourself grow speechless, the few words that you've been wanting to hear from your parents came out of your teacher's mouth instead. you didn't know what to do or say, you gave her a quick smile before you two started your little tutoring session.

"you're doing just fine my dear, you'll do just as well for the upcoming end-of-years." ms lee patted your shoulder, ushering you towards the classroom door. you bowed, bidding her goodbye. a sudden wave of negative thoughts started crashing over you, why? you didn't want to grow attached to a teacher that gave you the care and concern your parents should have given, along with the thoughts of you wanting to do extremely well for ms lee, for yourself, and even your parents even if it did nothing. you just didn't want anyone to be disappointed in you. you plugged in your earphones to cancel out your overpowering thoughts, blasting your shared playlist with beomgyu.

ynn ★: i just ended, going home rn..

ynn ★: wyd?

gyu :> : taking a break from revision, kinda lazy today

gyu :> : it's getting late, go home safely mkay? i love you

ynn ★: i love you too gyu :)

he was so sweet to you, you didn't deserve this especially how you were treating him. you prioritised your studies over him, hence not giving him the same amount of attention. you unlocked your front door, immediately heading into your room to start work. you showered, did your facial routine, and turned on your nightlamp. your table was messy, filled with all, notebooks, textbooks, loose practice papers, and stationary. you groaned, you weren't feeling like it, but you couldn't stop. you knew that you'd regret it.

each word you wrote looked like scribbles, you spelt things wrong. why wasn't anything going your way right now? why is your mind going haywire, was it because of earlier? tears pricked your eyes, you couldn't do this anymore, you felt overwhelmed from everything, mentally exhausted in general. you slapped your face, in hopes that you'd stop crying but it continued, you were breaking down, losing complete control of your feelings. first time after a year, sure you've cried many times this year, and past years, however, this felt like your worst one yet.

you quickly picked up your phone, you wanted beomgyu, you needed him to console you. hitting the call button, your fingers were trembling, soft pleas coming out of your mouth for him to hurry up.

"yn?" his voice called out, it was rare for you to call him so suddenly. you sniffled, bringing your phone's mic towards your lips, "please, come over.. you have my keys, just come please gyu." you stuttered, unable to speak properly due to how dry your throat was. you could hear from beomgyu's end how frantic he was, him grabbing his keys to dashing out of his house. "i'll be there in 3, please wait yn." you hummed, ending the call. you replied beomgyu's messages, his attempt to keep you distracted, but your thoughts were too overpowering, you continued sobbing, your fingers digging into your thighs, scratching them from time to time.

"yn." beomgyu whispered, closing your bedroom door, locking it just in case your parents suddenly came home, and saw you in this state. you hiccuped, turning towards him, beomgyu looked at you with concern, this was the first time he has seen you like this after a long time. he gave you his hoodie that he knew gave you comfort, before pulling you into a tight embrace. you continued crying on his shoulder, probably making a wet mess on his shirt right now, but beomgyu didn't care. beomgyu's fingers rubbed the back of your head, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

"you're okay now yn, it's alright. let it all out." beomgyu mumbled, his soothing, calming voice, making you feel less like shit. you felt yourself slowly easing up, pulling away from beomgyu's comfortable shoulder. beomgyu took a piece of tissue from the box at the corner of your desk, blowing your nose for you, his thumb wiping away the single tear falling from your face.

"let's lay in bed, i'll make you some instant ramen alright?" beomgyu rubbed your cheek, before aidding you towards your bed, he made sure that you were comfortable before he went to your kitchen to prepare some samyang, your favourite. you laid there on your bed, scrolling on your phone, still suffering with a stuffed nose, but you could smell beomgyu's scent on the hoodie he gave you, consoling your thoughts.

the aroma of the spicy carbonara samyang filled your nostrils, making you sit up. you grabbed the bowl beomgyu passed to you, slurping it up to your heart's content. "nice?" beomgyu asked, sitting on the edge of your bed, his head propped his head onto the palm of his hand, watching you with gentle eyes. you nodded your head, chewing on the cheesy noodles. you twirled the noodles around the chopsticks, tilting them towards beomgyu, wanting him to eat them. beomgyu took a big bite, savouring the creamy, spicy sensation of the noodles.

"i think i should be a chef." beomgyu joked, trying to make you feel better. you giggled, placing the empty bowl on the nightstand next to your bed. you signalled beomgyu to lay next to you, wanting to cuddle with him in bed. beomgyu obliged, allowing you to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, the vibration of his humming, made you feel relaxed. your body was practically on top of beomgyu, while you cling onto him like your life depended on it. you looked up to stare at beomgyu, through your fluttering eyelashes, giving his jaw a chaste kiss.

"hm?" beomgyu hummed, using his free hand to stroke your soft hair, you pouted slightly, still snifflinf a little from your breakdown. your fingers laced around his as he used his thumb to rub your knuckles gently, assuring your that everything is in control now.

"i love you beom." you muttered, loud enough for him to hear, "i'm sorry for suddenly worrying you, i don't know, my first instinct was to call you." you rambled, apologising for being such a burden to him, you felt tears slowly welling up in your eyes again. you said whatever concerned was distracting you, letting out a few tears.

"it's just so tiring to try to make everyone around me proud of me when no one even cares, not even my parents. at this point i'm doing it for myself, for my own validation, but i can't see any improvement, or just something that i can take pride in." you choked out, full on ranting to beomgyu while he stayed quiet, rubbing your hand in small circular motions. his eyes stayed on your figure, making sure that you know he's listening to you with all ears.

"i'm sorry if i'm ever a bad girlfriend to you, you give me so much attention, love, and care, but i can't seem to reciprocrate it, i love you so much, but i don't know how to prove that to you.. i'm afraid that'll you'll leave me for someone better, someone that'll shower you with affection." you apologised, reasoning yourself. beomgyu's eyebrows were knitted together, how could you say that? you were the best thing that happened in his life.

"yn, you know i don't care if you don't provide me the same amount of adoration or anything, as long as i know that you're okay, and that you're still here to stay by my side. then that's all i ask for. i'm honest." beomgyu carressed your cheek, while your lips trembled, your eyes glossy, blinking back the tears threathening to fall out. beomgyu's plump lips curled up, pecking your lips.

"just don't overwork yourself, i hate seeing you like this, you make me worried." beomgyu warned, you slightly chuckled, "i'll try to improve myself for you gyu." reassuring him.

#txt beomgyu #txt scenarios #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #txt imagines #txt fanfic #beomgyu soft hours #beomgyu imagines #txt imagine #txt reactions #txt

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olivianyx · 9 months ago

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I didn't knew u were a respawner! That's so cool, I've been on my respawn journey for like 1-2 months, I hope this is okay to ask but how is your respawning routine? Currently I am taking a break but I would love to hear abt your respawning journey so far :>

Heyy! I'm glad I find many people who are into respawning! Actually mine's a long ass story and you might wonder how am I even doing fine to this day 😭

Okay so long story short, let's begin.

Back in 2022, I discovered shifting. After finding out about loa in 2021, I was anticipated to shift realities just to escape this one. I hated being here. I was suffering with depression, bi polar, avpd, anxiety and maladaptive daydreaming, and I was from a toxic household with narcissistic, toxic and strict parents and fake af friends. It was really hard for me to even open up to somebody. It was hard for me to handle (actually I'm tearing up rn while I type this... Especially those traumas are the worst thing I ever experienced)

When I started my research about shifting, I got into amino. I saw the word 'respawn' and I was like tf is this?? I thought it was some gaming shit and then when I researched it on amino, I really wanted to go away from here and be happier than ever. I wanted to be in peace and do whatever I want in my reality. And no one should judge or stop me from getting what I want. I quickly scripted the place I wanna respawn, and other stuffs. I decided that I will get tf outta here.

Well because I had a reason that I'll respawn, I completely ignored my 3D circumstances. Like I stopped taking care of myself, stopped talking to people around me, stopped studying, stopped doing everything. I just was desperately trying to respawn every night telling myself that I will.

When in fact I was wasting my time and energy into lack. I almost didn't study for my finals and wrote the exams and hope that I'd respawn before my results will be declared. I used to keep time crunches to respawn, and when I didn't, I used to get so depressed, that I attempted to take my own life for the first time ever back in may 2022.

My brother accidentally entered my room and saved me from doing that. When I say I've almost attempted to take my own life for like 10+ times that same year, I still didn't give up. My exam results came and I luckily passed my exams.

So after all these I decided to give a break for 3 months completely for my own mental health. Ik my journey for 2 years wasn't smooth, it was full of ups and downs, and it messed my mental health up. I wasn't even using loassumption in a proper manner at that time. Ngl, I was so damn desperate for manifesting even the smallest stuff (I just wanna time travel back in time and slap the shit outta that version of me that I was back then 💀)

So when I got into a medical university in 2023 January, I completely forgot about respawning for a while. And again in October 2023, I logged into Tumblr, and became friends with one of the respawner Julie. She was so sweet, that she even answered every stupid doubts of mine (God give me Julie's patience 🗣️🗣️) she had respawned back in October 2023.

She was the one who told me 'SELF CONCEPT IS THE KEY!' so I started working on my self concept for like 1 and a half-ish months.... Well, I wasn't even perfect with it, but I tried. I did many challenges but the meraskii one had a good effect on my mindset. So last Christmas, I even learnt about the void (I hate implying it as void, I'd rather say it as I AM state) I wanted to enter it so bad.

I just did my affs, persisted in it, and listened to subs, and on Christmas Eve, I got into it successfully.

This year, I find respawning a very relaxing topic. Like I don't even get bothered by it. I know I'm already where I wanna be. And don't worry, my mental health has been good for a few days now. I was thinking of changing my script, so for the past 2 months, I've been scripting my new reality, well still it's only half way done hehe.

By the end of this month, I'm planning on respawning through the void. So till then I just wanna be thankful for everything here and enjoy every moment here without regrets.

Everybody's journey is different. All you have to do is embody your desired state. You just have to be the version of you having your desires. Be the one who already has it. For me, that took 3 years to click. I just had to relax and give myself in. Let go and enjoy the fact that I already have my desires in the 4d.

Ig this helped... any further doubts, you can ask me! Lots of luv 🤍🤍🤍🤍

- olivia 🤍

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artist-issues · 8 months ago

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You're my new favorite blog! You have no idea how I wish I could peck inside your brain like a chicken. 😭😂😂 I am a Catholic and a recovering agnostic. I struggle with letting go of my old way of life and philosophy constantly, I have been struggling with it since the day I decided to revert - that was back in 2017. (I think you would like to know my journey back to the Faith started after watching HBO's The Young Pope! 👌🏼) At this point I don't know if I'll ever be the person the Lord wants me to be, oh well, I'll die trying and I know that will mean something.

I just know I can't go back to being a non-believer, because as Carl Young said, now I don't just believe, I know. The irony is my struggle to believe in something I know to be objectively the Truth.

I have a question for you though, actually I hope for some advice from you. How do I reconcile with the reality that I haven't become who I dreamed to become (like career wise), but now that a new career has been shoved upon me (a career my parents wanted for me - and they valued safety and stability over "following my dreams" I suppose)? ...which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because it is an extremely noble profession and it pays quite well.

The thing is, as much as I try to accept my new career, I keep telling myself and to others that I'm doing this for my parents and not because I want to be here. I feel terrible about it. But, again, it's not like I am unfulfilled (I am unhappy though, but that comes with the work culture/environment, I feel like I am surrounded by 40+ year old teenagers); as a matter of fact, I do think I know - objectively - in my heart that this is exactly where the Lord wants me to be? But I keep fighting against it, keep struggling against this sense of vocational calling that I'm feeling towards my new job, instead I desperately wanna give into my want to go "live the life I want." Like throw this all away, get new training and start all over with the career I wanted all those years ago.

I want to be better, to be sacrificial like Christ on the Cross. I've always known I had a little depression (comes with my disability from a young age and this whole dream thing); I have been suicidal over this, I actually used to joke with myself that I'd kill myself if I don't achieve my professional goals by the time I turned 25. I will turn 30 this September and even though I haven't been literally dead, I feel like I've been in a vegetative state - mentally - ever since the day I turned 25. I hope that makes sense.

I started seeing a therapist 2 weeks ago since my mental health started affecting my new job - she did say I have depression and is trying to help me but I just don't know if I want to be helped at all, because I am unable to do the exercises she tells me (like create a routine, exercise well, write down good thoughts, etc.) I feel like I'm failing myself, my parents and, most importantly, my Heavenly Father.

I apologise if this is nonsensical, I apologise for dumping all of this on you - random stranger on the internet - but idk I felt like maybe you'd have something wise to tell me to knock some sense into me (without a bump to prove it hehe).

Thank you and God bless! 🥰

You’re very kind, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share all this with me! I really never have anything good of my own to say, or any wisdom to offer, except what I “steal” from God…and I guess what I mean is, if I ever say anything helpful or good or true, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t come up with it. On my own I have zero wisdom or good things to offer.

Anyway, I was surprised reading this because I have gone through (been going through) a similar sort of mindset. I went to school for the career I dreamed about (still dream about) and I worked hard and I wanted it more than anybody around me (very Mike Wasowski in MU of me) and it hasn’t happened the way I planned, or in my timetable.

I mean, in all humility: I work with a studio making a tv show, but it hasn’t got off the ground yet, and I work for a company that writes movie reviews, but neither of those things pay my bills. I have a third job, working with therapists, that’s nothing like what I always wanted to do. That’s my “career,” but it’s not the career I’m passionate about and working toward. And I wonder if I’ll ever do anything “major” in the line of work I love and went to school for. And when I do, I have gotten into some really dark mental places.

Forgive me for not using the words “depression” or “suicidal.” I hate using those words because they’re overused and romanticized and flooding the culture. But more importantly I hate using them because the only thing I identify with is Christ, not any mental struggle I try to slither back into, like a snake trying to put back on old skin. I’m not my overthinking—I’m not my depression—I’m not my suicidal thoughts or emotions—I am one with Christ. Those are things inside me that are defeated and dead—the teeth have been knocked out of them. They just gum me from time to time. So I want you to know I empathize with you, but that’s my point and that’s how I want to answer you:

The only thing about you that really matters is Christ.

Who He says you are, what He has done and how He lived, which is applied to you because He said it is, by grace alone, through faith alone. No matter how you feel.

And I say that to you, as the answer, because I think you and I focus too much on what could be and what “should be” as if God has a set path for us, and if we don’t figure out what it is and walk it, we’ll have a less-fulfilling life. “If I stay at my therapy job and just work with teenagers and write on my blog for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be as good as I could be.” Or for you. “If I stay in this career I’m in, the one my parents backed me into, I’ll make it, I’ll be fine, but I’ll never be as happy as I want to be.” We’re both thinking, every once in a while, “This is career is what God wants for me, and all my misery is coming from not submitting to it, and if I could just wrestle my contentment into place and give up the thing I want, and submit to what God wants, I’d be fulfilled.”

But how do we know any of those thoughts are true? How do we know God wants us in these boring old careers we wouldn’t have chosen—didn’t choose? Or, how do we know these boring old careers are what we’re stuck in because we didn’t take the plunge and work harder for our “dreams,” which were what He really wanted us to do? How do we know either of those things?

We don’t. We don’t get to know. That’s the point.

Because that’s not how God works. Not from what I can tell in the Bible.

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”. Colossians 3:17.

Whatever you do. Not “the one specific thing you figure out He wants you to do.”

My mom described it to me once when I was in a really dark place trying to figure out what He wanted me to do, paralyzed with indecision, afraid He wanted me to do something I just didn’t want to do, like this: “God doesn’t hold out one flower and say, ‘this is the one I want you to have, so you can either take it or take something worse.’ God makes a field of flowers, and He says, ‘Which one do you want? Pick one, and do it with excellence for Me.’ Then just trust Him to make it good.”

It sounds like you’re in a career, but you are wrestling with whether or not to pick it, now that you have some autonomy as an adult, or to pick starting over. Well. Pick one. Just pick one. And trust God to take care of you. Trusting God looks like thinking it through with excellence, then making the decision—and making the decision means letting go of worrying about the thing you didn’t pick. “Take every thought captive in obedience to Christ.” Once you make a choice, make it all the way, and don’t let your mind wander anymore to “what if this blows up in my face? What if I should’ve stayed back there at the crossroads, or gone down the other path?” It’s going to be hard and God is going to take care of you, no matter what you pick. So don’t let your mind go to those places where you worry; acknowledge the worry, and every time, ask God to help you remember that He’s got you.

Because here’s the point, here’s the thing: He does have you. Because ultimately, your career really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Neither does your dream. Not ultimately. And now I’ll say “our” because I need to hear it too. Our dreams and careers are not the point of us, and our dreams and careers are not what God means when He says “I’ll take care of you.”

What He means is, “I’ve already taken care of you.” Because the most important thing isn’t our job or our dream. The most important thing is, we’ve been rescued out of eternally being trapped in our broken desires, and now we get to live for Christ, Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That’s the major. And that truth is where our fulfillment is supposed to come from, what our lives are meant for, our purpose. As long as we pick one, and do it with excellence to make the name of Jesus famous, with that goal in mind, we’ll be emotionally fulfilled. We’ll be satisfied. Because that’s the goal. Not making movies, or whatever it is you want to do. Not having secure means of living. Just…living our lives to make who Jesus is famous. We can do that wherever.

So then the choice? It becomes a minor, not a major, and the pressure of “will I be happy?” is off, because happiness isn’t found in that stuff. And whenever I forget, and start looking for happiness in my dreams, goals, career, that’s when it all starts to feel dark and stressful and hard and crushing. Because it was never meant to give me happiness or fulfillment—that’s a need only Christ can fulfill.

Don’t misunderstand me. He cares what you do. He cared about every decision you make, and He does have a plan. But that’s going to happen anyway. So just pray, consider which option is a) wise to go for and takes care of the responsibilities God has entrusted you with, b) which option you genuinely want, when your wants are not influenced by fears, and then c) step out and do it in faith. And do it with the mindset of, “I’m doing this, and I’m not thinking about the alternative if I can help it, and I’m also not putting all my happiness-eggs in this basket, because even if it crashes and burns, hey, I’m still one with Christ and I can still make Him famous no matter what road my career goes down.”

I hope this helps. It’s a subject I’m hamster-wheeling around in my mind right now a lot—but when I just fix my eyes on Christ and think about how the most important things, the things that give real joy and happiness, are already and forever taken care of and I can’t mess them up—then can get off the hamster wheel and enjoy the life He’s given me, right now, today, without worrying about the future.

#love you sib #asked #answered #thanks for asking #Christianity #biblical #faith #careers #options

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x-press-it · 4 months ago

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Devilish Desires - 4/8

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others…) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn’t know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers..

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited. This was another hard chapter to edit/rewrite, but I did it ^^ I hope you guys like fighting/sparring scenes ^^" Ok, let's feed that hunger, shall we? ;)

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 4/8

Word Count: 9.9K / 60K+ for now

In the days that followed their meeting in the library, E kept their distance from Logan. They must have been tangled up with all the contract adjustments and whatever else came with their mysterious agenda, or at least that’s what he assumed. Logan couldn’t say he minded their absence; if anything, the tension between his shoulders had finally started to ease, and his routine felt a little less invaded.

He hardly saw them around the mansion. E would appear in passing, usually on their way to Charles’s office or briefly dipping into the library, but they seemed to vanish as quickly as they appeared. They never crossed paths otherwise. Not in the gym, where he’d half-expected to catch them training, nor in the kitchen, where they always managed to get there before him and leave behind only faint traces—a mug in the sink, an empty coffee pot. Even Ororo, who spent most of her time outside tending to the gardens, mentioned she hadn’t seen them lingering around the grounds. And as the days dragged on, Logan felt the empty space they’d left lingering.

A part of him was curious now, his wariness easing as he'd learned more about them. He’d gotten a glimpse of them beneath that composed exterior, enough to see that they weren’t the threat he’d originally thought, maybe even enough to say they weren't so different from each other—if he squinted. Their goals didn’t seem so far from his, and neither did their need for freedom. He found himself wondering, almost against his will, what they were doing when they weren’t working. It didn’t sit right, not knowing.

And soon enough, he realized he’d started keeping an eye out for them. Them, the person who’d been in his face day in and day out for weeks, was now barely a shadow in the mansion’s daily rhythm. It was… odd, and the feeling only grew with each day they didn’t cross paths.

But then, on the fifth day after their meeting, Logan’s curiosity finally got a break when Charles called the team to his office. He could sense something was coming—the air in the room was thick with it. The team gathered, shifting uneasily, the only absentees being the three younger members. Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as ever as he watched each person in the room. His eyes kept circling back to E, who stood slightly off to the side, their expression a wall of carefully constructed calm. They didn’t look at him or anyone else, a clear signal they weren’t here to play nice.

Charles cleared his throat, drawing their attention as he settled behind his desk. “I’ve called you all here to discuss an important matter regarding the security of the school.”

Logan’s gaze narrowed, his instincts already piecing together that this had to do with E. Sure enough, Charles’ steady look swept across the team, his voice carrying a calm authority. “It has been decided that E will be training with you all from now on. They won’t be part of the team, but as they work here at the school and have the right to defend it, it’s important for everyone to understand their abilities. In case of an attack, we all need to be on the same page.”

The discomfort in the room was tangible. Everyone shifted, casting skeptical glances at E, who remained silent, almost impassive. Their appearance looked more severe today—dull skin and eyes, their horns lacking their usual shine, and their hair pulled back in a tight bun. They wore mostly black, save for a few touches of dark red, with no jewelry and only the barest hint of makeup. Jean watched them closely, brows furrowing as she tried to read their thoughts, but E’s sharp glare in her direction made it clear that wall wasn’t coming down.

Scott was the first to voice his hesitation, clearing his throat as he looked between Charles and E. “Is that really necessary? We’ve never had any outsiders train with us before.”

Logan couldn’t help the low chuckle that slipped out. “Forgot about me, Summers? I was an outsider once, too.” The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before he cast a quick glance at E. Just as he expected, their attention—once fixed on their perfectly manicured red nails—flickered to his, briefly meeting his gaze before quickly looking away, the moment slipping by as quickly as it had come.

If they weren’t friends, Scott would’ve probably fried him with his visor for that comment, but Charles remained patient as he waited for the room to settle. “E works alongside us here,” he said, voice steady but unyielding. “They have every right to protect the students, just as we do.” His gaze swept over each person, settling on them a moment longer than necessary. “It’s important we trust one another in times of crisis.”

Logan’s gaze drifted back to E. They stood rigid, a subtle tension in their posture that hadn’t been there before. If he was reading them right, they didn’t want to be here any more than the team wanted them here. It wasn’t just distance, it was a quiet wariness, like they were on guard against everyone, Charles being the only exception. Even Jean’s curiosity only earned another glare from E, a silent warning to stay out of their head.

As the murmurs of agreement wrapped up the meeting, Logan lingered, eyes settling on E. He wasn’t wary of them anymore, not exactly, but something about them made him curious. He’d seen a glimpse of who they were under that mask. He wasn’t sure he trusted them yet, but he respected them—at least enough to want to see more of what they were capable of. And there was that other thing, too; he’d noticed it in the faint shadows under their eyes and the worn edges of their aura. Whatever was keeping them going seemed to be running thin.

“Hey,” he called out before they could leave. They turned slowly, an eyebrow raised, the only indication they’d heard him.

“When d’you have time to spar?” he asked, trying to read their reaction.

Their face barely shifted, but he could see a glint of amusement behind their guarded look. “Right now, actually,” they replied, their voice steady and even. “Unless you’re busy.”

Logan pushed off the wall, straightening his posture. “I’ve got time.”

They nodded, excusing themselves to change and, twenty minutes later, they met him at the bottom of the staircase. They were both now dressed in gear more suitable for what lay ahead, and Logan couldn’t help but notice the way their presence had shifted from the last time they spoke—the carefully polished exterior was there, but the energy behind it was dimmed, like they were holding something back. As they stepped outside, Logan led them to a secluded corner of the grounds, far from prying eyes. The shaded glade lay far from the main paths, ensuring no students or teachers would wander by, a quiet space with plenty of room to move freely.

As they reached the clearing, he rolled his shoulders, flexing his arms and testing his range of motion with a low, almost eager hum in his throat. “Alright,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

E’s lips curved into a faint smile, tight at the edges, as they removed their shoes, grounding themselves in the cool grass. Logan studied them, and it seemed like even the glint in their eyes was dimmer than he remembered; they looked tired, worn.

“You sure you’re feelin’ up for this?” he taunted. “Look a little beat.”

At those words, a faint smirk tugged at their lips, a dangerous spark lighting in their eyes—not quite playful, but charged with a hint of anticipation as they settled a few feet from him, their toes curling slightly in the green blades. “Looks can be deceiving,” they stated, their eyes narrowing with a brief, steely flash. “So don’t hold back.”

Logan chuckled, a low growl under his breath . “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They shifted into their stances, circling each other slowly, and Logan took a moment to assess them, noting their balance and posture, looking for signs of fatigue or hesitation. E looked drained, their skin and eyes lacking the usual intensity, their expression guarded but when they lunged forward, it was with a speed and grace that took him off guard. They were light on their feet, with an economy of motion that spoke of years of training. Even so, they lacked their usual edge. He’d felt their agility before—those brief, charged touches when they went after him over the past couple of weeks. But now, with their first steps, he saw a whole new side to them.

As Logan moved in, he blocked their strike, and the force behind it surprised him. They were damn quick, and strong enough to make him realize he couldn’t take this lightly. He dodged a swift kick, aiming a punch in return, but they twisted smoothly out of his reach, moving with a precision that was… stunning.

A flicker of respect—maybe even awe—stirred in him, and he noticed the shift almost immediately. E’s movements, initially strong, suddenly sharpened, a faint glow sparking in their eyes as they draw strength from his reaction. Each impressed thought, every ounce of admiration, pulse under their skin like fuel, strengthening them further.

Their smile widened, feeling the strength coursing through them now, a flash of teeth as they spun around him, arms a flurry of open-palmed strikes and swift fists. Logan blocked most of them, dodging the rest. They weren’t just good—they were damn good. And as his recognition grew, he felt an odd, almost tangible energy radiating off them, a surge that seemed to seep from the esteem they stirred in him.

“Not bad,” he grunted, his breath steady despite the exertion. The thrill of a real challenge was humming through his veins, the kind that made his blood come alive. But he couldn’t ignore that other feeling creeping in, like something slipping just beyond his control, something wild and powerful in E that his respect seemed to unlock.

They closed in again, and as their bodies met, Logan realized just how agile they were. It wasn’t only that they were fast; it was the precision of each movement, the way they slipped around his strikes like water weaving through rock. He found himself pushed harder, each dodge and block requiring his full attention.

Their style was unlike anything he’d seen before: smooth, swift, each movement flowing into the next like a performer weaving between shadows. There was a seamlessness to their steps, an exotic grace laced with foreign influences he couldn’t quite place—Arabic, maybe, or something even older. As they exchanged blow after blow, it felt like choreography, mesmerizing—E’s motions were fluid and graceful, carrying a rhythm and elegance that Logan could respect, even as he fought to keep up. This wasn’t just skill; it was... Art. And the more he admired it, the stronger they became, each spark of his interest feeding into their movements like an unseen force binding them.

Realization struck him like a blow—yes, they were good, but their power was intensifying, fueled by him.

He’d heard of mutants who could channel the emotions of others, drawing strength from positive thoughts like attention and interest. But feeling it now—feeling their strength mirror his thoughts… it was unlike anything he’d experienced.

They were more than a match for him, and his respect for their skill, their grit, surged. The moment that thought crossed his mind, E’s strikes grew even faster, their focus intensifying, and he was almost sure of it now. His every impressed reaction were seeping into them, fueling their intensity.

Their strikes picked up speed, and Logan found himself on the defensive more than he’d anticipated. They were fucking sharp. For every hit he blocked, two more came at him from new angles, as if they were testing him, pushing him to see just how far they could go. And with each strike, with every dodge, their energy grew, their fatigue seemed to melt away. The fire in their eyes reignited, and their form tightened, honed into something intense and unyielding.

He went in close, using his instincts to counter their movements, but with each passing moment, he witnessed how his respect only made them stronger. It was mesmerizing—and unsettling. The bond felt tangible, like an invisible current between them, and it was taking on a life of its own.

Logan ducked under a high kick, his instincts leading the way, and countered with a low sweep that nearly knocked them off-balance. E rolled out of reach, landing on their feet with a fluid twist that made Logan pause, even for just a fraction of a second. The way they moved was intoxicating—a mix of elegance and deadly purpose that sparked something inside him. He couldn’t help it; for a split moment, he was simply watching them, almost spellbound.

But there was no time to linger. E closed the distance with a burst of energy, a flurry of controlled, powerful strikes, fists and open palms, that had Logan moving on impulse alone. Each hit was controlled, precise, but damn, the force behind them kept him on his toes, like they were trying to push him to his limits. And maybe, deep down, he wanted them to. He blocked, deflected, and when he caught their wrist mid-swing, he allowed a small, knowing smirk to flicker across his face. That’s when he saw it—the glint of mischief in their eyes, quick and bold. E twisted out of his grasp with a move so smooth it felt like he’d tried to catch water.

Logan tightened his grip as they shifted, pulling them back to him, but the moment their faces were mere inches apart, time seemed to pause. Their eyes were locked onto his, unflinching and intense. There was something fierce there, a silent challenge that pulled at something deeper inside him, stoking the embers in his guts. It was like they were daring him, testing him not just as an opponent but as someone who understood the fire behind their eyes.

E must have seen the battle between reason and desire flicker in his gaze because they seized the moment, breaking free in a swift motion. Logan let them go, both impressed and curious, wanting to see what they’d do next. They didn’t waste a second, attacking with renewed vigor, moving like a force of nature, their body a seamless weapon of precision and raw determination. Logan could feel the shift—a resolve in them, the power that had been lying dormant now fully awakened. They weren’t holding back anymore, weren’t playing it safe. The series of blows they threw with rapid precision drew him into that primal place where his instincts ruled, and he was forced to meet them there, letting the feral part in him slip closer to the surface. The thrill of it sparked through his veins like wildfire.

“Alright,” he growled under his breath, almost laughing as he absorbed another blow and stepped back, chest heaving. “So you’re not playin’ around.”

Their eyes glimmered, never breaking eye contact, that confident grin tugging at their lips. They let out a breathy laugh, low and challenging. “You finally noticed?” they teased, their voice smooth with the thrill of the fight. There was something almost predatory in the way they held his gaze, the way they readied themselves for the next round. The air between them was tight, charged, every breath a shared battle. They circled each other once more, both panting heavily now, both intent, and Logan shifted his stance, ready for whatever came next.

He braced himself as they lunged, and this time, he met them head-on, gripping their fist mid-swing. The impact sent a shock through them both, a raw electricity that stilled the moment. E didn’t pull back, and neither did he. The space between them buzzed with an unspoken understanding—a recognition of equals, of opponents who respected each other enough to give everything.

Logan’s gaze drifted over their features, taking in the fierce focus, the glint in their eyes that had come alive in the heat of combat. He could feel his own pulse thundering in his chest, the thrill of the challenge, the sheer admiration for their skill. Whoever they were, whatever their story, they were damn impressive.

Their faces stayed close, eyes locked in a dance of silent words and wild, racing thoughts. He realized then, amidst the push and pull, that they weren’t just sparring. They were testing each other, challenging what they thought they knew.

When they finally broke apart, their breath heavy, Logan took in the slight rise and fall of their chest, the gleam of sweat on their neck. He let out a slow, impressed hum. “You weren’t holdin’ back, were ya?” His voice was low, rough with something more than exertion.

“Not my style.” E’s sly smile was full of restrained satisfaction. “But I thought you’d be a little faster, Wolverine,” they taunted, breathing hard, a mischievous edge to their tone.

Logan chuckled, the sound more rumble than laugh. He rolled his shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips as he nodded. “And you’re better than I thought. Maybe I misjudged ya.” The admission came with its own weight, but it felt right. “Wasn’t expectin’ you to get that fired up.”

And there it was again, that pull in the air between them, a flash of mutual acknowledgment that only seemed to heighten E’s energy. It hung in the air like an invisible thread, binding them to something that was no longer just a sparring match.

“Guess you bring out the best in me,” E added, their voice softer now but no less charged as they straightened, wiping a sheen of sweat from their brow.

This fight, this moment, was more than just a test of strength; it felt like a line had been crossed, an unspoken understanding forged in the heat of battle. Logan’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, and for once, he didn’t bother suppressing the feeling. He’d had his fair share of fights, of sparring matches, but this had felt different—charged, almost like a trial, a test that had changed something between them.

He let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. “Seems like we both do, huh?”

Their gaze glinted, a hint of mischief mixed with something he couldn’t quite place. “Careful,” they said, voice low, “You might actually start liking me.”

He shook his head, though a glint of something warmer shone in his eyes. “Don’t go gettin’ ideas. I still don’t trust ya,” he said, though there was a reluctant admiration in his tone. “But I can’t deny you’ve got skills.”

They both stood there in the quiet clearing, the tension between them heavy and electric. It wasn’t just the fight that left him on edge—it was that undeniable force that surged through them, the energy that seemed to bloom under his attention, his respect.

They held his gaze a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them. And finally, E’s expression softened, the intensity in their eyes dimming as they nodded slightly. “You ever want another round, you know where to find me,” they said before turning on their heels, the tension between them lingering like the echo of a battle not quite over.

As they walked away, carrying their shoes in one hand, Logan felt a strange pull, something magnetic urging him forward, a reflexive need to know more. Before he could think better of it, he called out after them, half-jogging to close the distance. E paused, glancing back with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in their eyes.

They were checking their phone, frowning at a few missed calls, their thumb hovering over the screen to call back. But before they could hit the button, Logan spoke up, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart. “When d’you reckon we could do this again?”

They looked up, and for a second, there was a gleam of something mischievous in their eyes, a playful spark that was hard to miss. Their lips curved, and that teasing smile tugged at him in a way that caught him off guard. “Oh, can’t get enough of me now, huh, pretty boy?”

Logan felt a tingle in his gut, the playful edge in their voice threw him for a second, that casual nickname landing unexpectedly. They made him feel like he was fifteen again, trying to play it cool in front of someone who seemed way out of his league—a completely new feeling for him. A part of him wanted to fire something back, maybe a quip about how he wasn’t in it for them, but for their skills. But he deflected instead, maintaining his composure. “I want to know more about your style. It’d be good for the team. Could give us an edge, y’know?”

“Good for the team,” E echoed, amusement flashing in their gaze as they cocked their head, weighing him. “If you say so.”

They turned their phone over in their hand, clearly tempted to tease him further, but before they could say anything, he cut them off, “Remember the training sessions Charles mentioned in the meeting? Did he told you about the Danger Room?”

E raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at their lips. “I might have heard of it… but maybe you could tell me a little more?”

Logan nodded, sensing an opportunity. “Well, it’s…let’s just say it’s our own personal, high-stakes training ground. If you want, I can walk you through it sometime.”

E considered him for a moment, their posture straightening as they regained their composure. “Alright. How about we meet back here tonight, after dinner, for some sparring again, and then you can tell me more about this danger room you’re talking about.”

“Tonight, huh?” he said, a hint of a smirk returning. “Yeah, I can make that work.”

“Good,” they murmured, their hand brushing his arm as they stepped past him, a fleeting, electrifying touch that sent a shiver through his skin. It was nothing—a casual touch—but it was enough to spark that strange charge between them again, something he could feel deep in his gut.

“See you tonight, then,” E said with a half-smile, their voice low, almost intimate. They turned, heading back toward the mansion with that damn sway in their step, every move as deliberate as their fighting style, leaving him there, watching and feeling just a bit off-balance. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, tonight, he was in for more than just another spar.

Logan was no stranger to being haunted by his thoughts, and most of the time, it was his past. But this was different—it wasn’t memories lingering in his head, it was someone alive and present, shifting through his thoughts like they had every right to be there. He’d spent the better part of the day moving from task to task, hoping that the routine would get his head on straight. He’d given three history lectures to classes who looked mostly bored out of their minds, walked the mansion perimeter twice, and even joined Hank in the lab for a solid hour before irritation got the best of him.

And still, every damn time he tried to clear his head, they were there. E. A quiet thrill snuck through him at the memory of their last spar, at the way they’d moved with that sharpened focus, picking up on his admiration like they could feel it.

Which they probably could. If his suspicions were right, E could sense admiration the way he could sense a lie—and that alone was a reason to keep his distance. But he hadn’t, not really. He’d leaned into it, watching the way they seemed to glow under his attention. That look in their eyes when they caught his gaze? Couldn’t shake it.

Damn it, it was making him question everything.

You’re not some lovesick puppy, bub, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair, frustrated. Get your head on straight.

E wasn’t his responsibility, not in the usual sense. He wasn’t there to watch over them or protect them. That wasn’t his job. Not that they needed him to, anyway. But the pull they had on him—some strange mix of curiosity and something else—wasn’t something he could easily shake off. He wasn’t sure if it was admiration, attraction, or something more dangerous, but it gnawed at him all the same.

Things never ended well when he got close, especially with someone like them. It was better, safer, to keep his instincts in check.

But still, when he thought about seeing them again, it felt like a twist in his gut, like he was waiting for something he couldn’t name, something primal. It was maddening, intoxicating—a feeling he hated as much as he longed for. And he couldn’t help himself.

His thoughts braught him back to them again, as he remembered the way E’s strikes had picked up speed, their movements sharpening with every surge of his admiration. The memory sent a chill down his spine. His jaw clenched as his mind raced. The urge to spar again—to see how far he could push them, what more they could become—tugged at him. But damn it, he had to remind himself to focus. He was here, not in the damn glade.

“Get ahold of yourself, damn it,” he muttered, hoping the sound of his voice might help break the spell. “You’ve got enough ghosts followin’ you around, don’t go invitin’ another.”

But E wasn’t a ghost. They were sharp, present, and so fucking alive. He didn’t want to admit it, but that made all the difference. This wasn’t some lingering regret or phantom from his past. It was real. And that made everything harder.

It wasn’t just his admiration—it was the way they challenged him, the way they made him feel. That pull, that instinctive response—it was there, simmering under the surface. And maybe that was what scared him the most.

Because even now, he couldn’t decide if it was them or their powers making him feel this way. The pull was real, but was it them? Or just some side effect of them feeding off his admiration?

Damn it. Logan clenched his fists, trying to shake it off. But no matter how much he fought it, E’s presence lingered, just out of reach, but never really gone. They weren’t his responsibility, not really—but hell if his instincts weren’t practically begging to make them his.

Hours dragged on, the sun dipping lower in the sky, but Logan found himself waiting for night to come. Waiting for the next sparring session. His body was wound tight, focus frayed, and he knew damn well it was because of them. No matter how hard he tried to pull himself back, some part of him was already leaning forward, eager to step into that clearing again, to see how much further they could go, how much more they could push each other.

His reason fought to resist, but he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep fighting it.

Logan settled into his seat in the dining room, but he wasn’t really there. He’d forced himself to join the others for dinner, hoping that the casual chatter would ground him, help shake E from his mind. But as plates clattered and conversations flowed, he found his thoughts still circling back to them—and to the way their strength had fed off his admiration. It gnawed at him, that feeling he’d fueled them somehow, that his respect had made them stronger, sharper. A part of him didn’t want to go down that road, but damn if he wasn’t already obsessing about the next sparring session, counting down the minutes.

He tried to focus on the idle talk around the table, but most of it only seemed to make his hackles rise. People were talking about E—debating whether they’d be joining the team in the future or if this was just a one-off thing. To them, it felt like E was edging their way in, and they didn’t like it. He could see the unease in Bobby’s frown, the way Marie’s gaze flitted to him, clearly feeling out where he stood on all this.

Eventually, the young woman turned to him, her brow raised in question. “So, Logan… what d’you make of her?” she asked, misgendering E without a second thought. “You’ve spent more time with her than the rest of us. ”

His reaction was swift and sharp, his tone a bit harsher than intended. “Them,” he corrected, voice edged. He took a steadying breath, reigning himself back. “They prefer ‘them.’”

Marie and Kitty exchanged a glance at that, a silent conversation that didn’t escape his notice. He forced himself to ignore it, though the sting of irritation remained, mingling with a faint, unexpected defensiveness. He wasn’t the type to stand on ceremony or correct people just to be polite. Still, he wasn’t going to stand by and let them talk about E without a damn bit of respect. But again, why the hell did he feel like he needed to stick up for them?

He tried to keep his tone casual as he shrugged, downplaying it like he didn’t care one way or another. “They’re alright. They’ve helped me out with some legal work, actually. Seems like they know what they’re doing. We sparred too… they’ve got a style that’s different. Pretty sharp. Could be good for you all to pick up some of that.”

The more he spoke, the harder it became to keep the admiration out of his voice. It wasn’t just that they were capable—there was something in the way they moved, the way they fought. Respect had never come easily to him, but with E, it was there, raw and undeniable.

Kitty raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and Logan felt a small spark of irritation as she leaned in. “What’s so special about it?”

He tried to keep it casual but the words flew out of him before he could stop them. “It’s… fast, strong, fluid… almost like watching something crafted. Like art.” Damn it. He hadn’t meant to let so much appreciation slip through, but it was hard to ignore how their moves had lingered in his mind all day.

His comment hung in the air, and he could see the others’ gazes shift toward him, noting how his tone had softened. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, feeling a bit exposed under their scrutiny.

“What’s their power, though?” Bobby asked, curiosity written across his face.

Before Logan could even think of a response, a smooth voice coming from the doorway cut him off. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady about their powers?”

Logan turned, catching sight of E leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over their chest, a teasing smirk on their lips. They looked different than they had after sparring earlier—not as radiant, but still damn good, with that casual confidence that could set anyone on edge. They had changed again, now in some kind of foreign traditional outfit, somehow looking both beautiful and dangerous as their gaze shifted over each face at the table.

Bobby’s cheeks flushed pink at E’s words, and he fumbled for a response, while Marie shot them a half-hearted glare. Logan didn’t miss the slight flicker in E’s expression—a hint of something softer, like a crack in their armor, but it was gone in an instant, too quick for anyone else to catch.

Ororo was the first to break the silence. “What brings you here, E?”

E straightened, sauntering into the room with an air of nonchalance, though their smirk said otherwise, metal chiming on their ankles and wrists. “Sorry to interrupt,” they said, though the smirk made it clear they weren’t sorry at all. “I’m just here for Logan,” they added when reaching him, their hand finding his shoulder and resting there, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Logan’s frown deepened at their words and actions—like they owned him, like he’d just been summoned. Something primal flared within him at the look in their eyes, and he fought to keep his own expression in check, unwilling to let that part of himself show.

“We had another sparring session planned,” he explained quickly, shrugging off their hand, his tone a bit too abrupt. He didn’t want them getting any strange ideas about what this was.

E gave a small nod, a glint of mischief in their eyes. “Yes, a sparring session,” they repeated, voice low and almost playful. Their gaze lingered on him for just a beat too long, that glint sending his instincts flaring.

They turned with a casual wave of their hand, bracelets chiming with the motion, before glancing back at him over their shoulder as they sauntered back toward the hallway. “I’ll be outside. Don’t take too long,” they tossed back with a wink, disappearing around the corner.

The room went quiet as E left, the tension hanging thick in the air. Logan forced himself to finish his meal, trying to ignore the eyes on him. He could practically feel the questions lingering unsaid, the looks exchanged behind his back. But he kept his focus on his plate, forcing himself to eat slowly even as impatience thrummed beneath his skin. Finally, he excused himself, heading into the kitchen to put his dishes in the dishwasher before slipping out the back.

When Logan reached the clearing, he found E sitting cross-legged in the grass, the deep black of their tunic blending with the shadows, disturbed only by the dark red sash at their waist. When they shifted, the golden and crimson bracelets at their wrists and ankles chimed softly, each note cutting through the quiet night. Even their hair and makeup, immaculately done, added an edge to their poised, lethal beauty—a sharp contrast to the rawness of their last sparring session.

They looked like they were dressed to perform and, for a few heartbeats, he was mesmerized. They were utterly still, chest rising and falling so slowly that they could almost pass for a statue, something sculpted by a master, with an eye for each curve and line. The moonlight washed over them, casting an ethereal glow that only added to the aura around them, one part mystery, one part raw strength.

They had felt him, of course. He didn’t have to make a sound; the energy rolling off him was enough. A faint, knowing smile blossomed on their red-painted lips, soft at first, then sharper as it settled. Eyes still closed, they spoke, their voice smooth as silk in the quiet night. “I’m glad we’re doing this again, Logan.” They paused, savoring the weight of his gaze. “I couldn’t focus all day. You… lingered.”

Logan felt his pulse kick up a notch, his mind flicking back to his own restless day—the way he’d had to force himself to push through the usual motions, when all he really wanted was to get back here, back to them. He tried to keep his expression steady, giving a small shrug as he stepped closer. “Your style’s… intriguing,” he said, hoping it sounded casual, unaffected. But he knew better, and they did too; the spark of warmth they felt from him seemed to seep into their own energy, feeding them.

They savored it, and now he could tell. He watched as something in them shifted, as if they were becoming more than they had been a moment earlier, like his presence and attention added a new depth to their form. Finally, they opened their golden-hooded eyes, meeting his gaze head-on. The shimmer of the powder accentuated the sharpness of their stare, turning it into something almost regal.

Rising to their feet with the delicate chime of metal, they moved with an effortless grace, stretching in a way that was deliberate, flexing their muscles as though reminding him of what he was about to face. “It’s called kalaripayattu,” E said, their voice steady. “It was my foundation. But… it changed, especially in Turkey.” Their gaze darkened momentarily, a flicker of something painful passing through their expression before it settled into a smirk, masking the past. “Not all evolutions come from the best places.”

Logan's jaw tightened at the admission, a familiar pang settling low in his chest. He’d seen that look before—the one that spoke of scars hidden under skin, memories too heavy to carry yet impossible to drop. The urge to say something, to tell them he understood that kind of burden, nearly surfaced, but he bit it back. This wasn’t the moment for words; they both knew that. Instead, he nodded, letting the unspoken understanding hang between them as he rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he watched them, that low hum of anticipation lighting up in him again.

E grounded themselves, digging their toes into the grass like they did before their last fight, finding their balance in a way that was both practiced and primal. Their stance shifted, flowing into something new—a crouched position, one leg stretched back and the other supporting them low to the ground, arms raised toward the sky, palms pressed together, like a warrior in prayer. The pose was unexpected, striking, and undeniably dangerous.

“You ready for round two, pretty boy?” They smirked, mischief dancing across their face, challenging him in a way that was hard to ignore.

Logan felt his pulse spike at the nickname, an involuntary reaction he stubbornly refused to acknowledge. It got under his skin in a way that was both infuriating and exhilarating, making his chest tighten with something unspoken. He cracked his knuckles, returning their smirk with one of his own. “You think you got it in you to keep up?” His tone was thick with confidence, with that hint of wild pride that only emerged when he faced someone capable of pushing him to his limits.

“Oh, I know I do, sugar.” They let the word roll off their tongue with a teasing lilt, eyes gleaming with challenge.

They shared a look, two rivals who’d found a rare equal, sizing each other up, caught between the thrill of the fight and the satisfaction of knowing that tonight, there was no one else who could possibly match them.

And then, as the tension reached its peak, both held taut in that breathless moment, they launched at each other. Their bodies collided, a clash of motion and control, every inch a dance of precision—not with brute force, but with a dynamic grace, a synergy that felt almost primal. E moved first, sliding low to the ground, almost flowing, their actions fluid and deliberate, bracelets and anklets chiming with every shift. Each touch, each brush of their hand along his arm, shoulder, and side was deceptively soft, like a caress meant to lure rather than harm. But Logan wasn’t fooled. He felt the energy coiled in every motion, understood just how deadly each one could be if they chose it to be. He knew the strength they were capable of. Those strikes—gentle as they were—carried a restrained power, and he sensed it, a whisper of the damage they could inflict if they changed their mind and decided to hurt him.

They circled each other in a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing, bodies weaving in and out, almost as if bound by a magnetic pull. E struck out with an open palm, a grazing motion that skimmed across his ribs, a warning rather than a blow. Logan responded, ducking low and twisting around, countering with a restrained swing that they sidestepped with ease, pivoting on one leg, the other extended gracefully behind them. Their fighting style was a thing of beauty—each move sharp, controlled, yet inherently lethal. It was all in the restraint, the elegance in the way they flowed around him, closing the distance only to slip away, like waves ebbing back from the shore.

The touches, brief as they were, left lingering warmth against his skin, almost delicate in contrast to the fierce intent that lay beneath them. Logan could sense it with every shift in their stance, every breath they took—if E wanted to, they could bring him to his knees. It was a tantalizing threat, one that made his blood sing with the thrill of the fight.

In return, he matched their intensity with his own. He countered with his own practiced moves, his ferocity meeting their grace—rougher, rawer, like fire pushing against wind. He didn’t back down, wasn’t about to let them get too close without a response. He dodged, weaved, barely avoiding some of their strikes, slipping by with mere inches to spare. When they made contact—a calculated strike to his shoulder—he could feel the charged intent behind it, even as they held back, making him stagger back just enough to shake it off, smirking, before charging in again. They danced around him, a perfect, untamed rhythm building between them, and he found himself moving faster, sharper, like every step forward fueled the energy between them, both testing the other without any intent to truly harm. He could feel it in the air between them—something feral, almost like a mating ritual, the way their movements mirrored, challenged, and matched.

They struck again, this time low, forcing him to leap back and adjust, his grin widening with every movement. It was as if they were bound not by competition but by an unspoken connection—a bond that thrived on the intensity, the way they pushed each other without ever holding back. They were not opponents, nor allies in the typical sense. There was no give, no yield. Neither wanted to win or lose. They just wanted to keep moving, to stay in that almost sacred moment, as if time could stretch itself around them, infinite, like two forces swirling endlessly into one another, an ouroboros that neither began nor ended.

E’s presence seemed to shift, to pulse with each strike and dodge, a captivating intensity building under the lights as if drawing energy from the exhilaration in Logan’s gaze. The more he felt—admiration, awe, the raw thrill of the dance—the more vivid they seemed, their form almost transcending reality in the moonlight. Their eyes gleamed with pure, unfiltered joy, and he saw it, saw the way they thrived under his gaze, every ounce of respect and challenge he sent their way amplifying their allure, making them seem more vivid with each passing second. They absorbed his fire, his strength, and reflected it back, their entire being moving with an entrancing grace that felt more alive than the world around them, their movements turning quicker, sharper, a need to show him more, to perform for him, to be seen. It was like they wanted him to witness the full extent of who they were, to understand how much he fueled them, empowered them.

And still, they did not relent. They wove through their attacks with such artful grace, arms sweeping in wide, lethal arcs that never quite struck him, but came close enough to make his heart race. Logan could feel the tension build in every swipe and brush of their hands, a coil wound tight within him, a primal urge to keep going, to fight like this until the stars themselves faded from the sky.

In a final sweep, they pivoted and leapt into the air, their body twisting mid-flight as they spun over his head, landing with barely a sound, crouched low, their gaze burning as they looked up at him, alive with energy, skin aglow. They seemed transformed, radiating something almost otherworldly, as if their exchange had unlocked something deep within them.

They rose slowly, never breaking eye contact, a faint smirk tugging at the edges of their lips, and Logan felt a surge of awe and something deeper, something inexplicable. This hadn’t just been a fight—it was communion, the give-and-take of two forces that could spend eternity bound in this endless, exhilarating cycle. In that timeless, breathless exchange, Logan felt the truth of it. He’d found someone who matched him, who fed off the same fire, who thrived under the heat of his gaze just as he could under theirs. And as he steadied himself, breath ragged, he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want this moment to end.

But then, unexpectedly, E burst out laughing—an honest, unrestrained, melodic laugh that broke free as if from a place long hidden. They threw their head back toward the sky, eyes closed, arms open, an untamed joy that caught Logan completely off-guard. That sound—it wasn’t mocking, nor was it triumphant. It was raw, genuine happiness and it sent a ripple through him, something deep and visceral. His chest tightened at the sight, at the way E’s expression softened for just a breath, letting the mask slip enough to reveal the humanity underneath all that skill and bravado.

It lasted only a few heartbeats, but in that space, Logan felt a shift. The air between them crackled differently, heavier, as if the laughter had broken down an invisible barrier neither had admitted was there. E’s eyes met his, searching, almost daring him to react, to see beyond the sparring and the guarded quips. For once, there was no battle in their gaze, only an invitation.

Logan’s eyes lingered on them as he tried to steady his breathing. A slow grin creeped across his lips, a rare thing that made the edges of his face soften, the soft, unguarded joy in E’s laugh still echoing in his mind. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” he said, voice rougher than he intended, a mix of exertion and something deeper. He’d seen them as fierce, elusive, hidden behind layers that only cracked in quick, playful smirks. But tonight, they’d shown him something true, almost sacred, and he couldn’t look away .

E’s smile didn’t fade as they stepped closer, their chest rising and falling in time with their breaths. “More than you know,” they replied, voice low and charged, carrying a promise unspoken yet understood. They stood close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from their skin, the space between them almost humming with potential.

Logan’s gaze couldn't leave them, their bare sincerity, their easy grace, the way they stood under the stars as though they belonged there more than any place he’d ever seen. For once, he was stripped of any clever response, any guard. He didn’t look away, either, though something in him warned he probably should. He could feel it—how much more they seemed to want to show him. How much closer he wanted to be.

They could feel the fire burning in his gut, feeding their hunger in a way that made the ache to stoke it grow stronger. Under his curious eyes, they began moving in slow, hypnotic turns, delicate and precise, metallic chimes echoing from their wrists and ankles. They were dancing—an ancient and untamed choreography, meant only for the night air, the moon, the stars, and him. Logan could almost feel the pulse of their energy in his bones, awakening that place deep inside him that almost never stirred, except in moments like this—moments fleeting and rare. His reason urged him to keep his guard up, but his defenses were slipping, worn down by the rhythm of their dance and the raw humanity of their movements. He found himself stilling, breathing slow, caught in the silent music only they could hear.

Then, they stopped, releasing a deep, contented sigh, like someone freed after being bound for far too long. They looked at him, an unfiltered calm in their gaze, and the sight of it drew something close to an ache in him.

“Thank you, Logan,” they said, their voice holding a warmth he rarely heard from anyone.

He gave a short nod, gruff as always, but inside, her words struck him with a strange weight. “Didn’t do much,” he muttered quietly, shrugging it off.

“Oh, but you did.” E’s lips curved up, but there was no teasing, no facade, only quiet gratitude. They extended their hands, twisting their fingers and wrists slowly in delicate, almost playful movements, while their bracelets chimed softly against their skin, as though savoring the freedom, the lightness they’d reclaimed. “Since you gifted me peace, tonight, I’m gonna give you a gift of my own,” they whispered, stepping forward. They reached out, their fingers brushing his forearm, a casual touch that set his nerves on fire. "You’re leaving yourself open here," they murmured, their skin grazing his, their voice close enough to send a shiver down his spine.

A current shot through him, sharp and electric, but he rolled his shoulders, masking his reaction behind a rough mutter. “Ain’t used to sparrin’ against dancers.”

“You’ll learn,” they replied, their smirk tugging back into place, the hint of that earlier mischief glinting in their gaze again.

For a moment, they both fell silent, the night air cooling around them. E’s eyes shifted upward, to the expanse of stars overhead, and Logan felt the pull too. The sky was scattered with pinpricks of light, stretching endlessly into the dark. It reminded him of how vast everything was, how small he was within it, how his years—his long, battle-hardened years—were just a blink in the vastness above. And yet here, with them, under this open sky, he felt strangely anchored.

Beside him, E’s voice softened, thoughtful. “You ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

Their words hit him, catching him off guard, reaching into places he usually kept sealed. It gnawed at him, the way they stood there looking like a piece of the sky had touched down, that soft glow in their eyes, one of peace, of gratitude, maybe even of kinship. There were few people who’d ever asked him something like that, fewer still who might actually understand the answer.

“More often than you’d think,” he muttered, the words escaping before he could second-guess them. He kept his eyes trained on the stars, the expansive sky above, as if it could ease the ache that always lingered somewhere in his chest. “Don’t matter where I go, or who I’m with—there’s always this… hole. Even when I’ve got a good thing goin’ on.”

They stayed quiet, listening, and somehow that silence gave him the space to keep talking.

“I got a family here, I know that. Hell, got more people than I ever thought I’d get who actually care if I stick around or not,” he said, his voice gruff, but his words open. “But sometimes… feels like I’m just borrowin’ time. Waitin’ till somethin’ pulls me back out there.” He motioned vaguely to the woods, to the wild that always seemed to call his name when he lingered too long within four walls.

E shifted, their eyes softening, and that glow in them brightened almost imperceptibly, as if his words, raw as they were, had stirred something in them. They looked at him in a way that felt like understanding, a wordless acceptance of the parts he rarely let anyone see. He felt his pulse stir again, just under his skin, something vulnerable and hungry for connection clawing its way out.

“Maybe you’re meant to belong somewhere that’s not on a map, you know?” They tilted their head thoughtfully, a gentle shrug in their shoulders. “I know that sounds… vague, but some of us are a little too wild, even for this world. Doesn’t mean you’re without a place, Logan. Maybe it’s just somewhere different.”

Logan let the words sink in, feeling the honesty in them settle like warmth into his chest. He wasn’t used to anyone framing it like that. Usually, the mansion’s residents treated his absences like quirks, a fact of his nature, but it was different with E. They seemed to see through his wanderlust, to recognize something in it that went deeper than just the need to roam.

“Hell, maybe,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shrug off the sudden vulnerability that gripped him. “Dunno if anyone ever told me it was all right to be that way.”

“Guess I just did,” they said, that teasing gleam returning, but softer this time. “Wherever you belong, Logan… you’re welcome in my orbit.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What happened to ‘I don’t need anyone, especially not you’?” His voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable spark of curiosity in his eyes.

E’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of defensiveness tightening their features before they smoothed it out. “I don’t need anyone,” they repeated, but the words held a different tone now—less sharp, more open. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t offer a place to someone who needs it… if they want it.”

The words hung between them, suspended in the night air. Logan felt himself drawn to them again, a subtle battle between reason and instinct churning inside him once more. The reasonable part of him couldn’t fathom giving in to that unspoken need, but another part of him, primal, wanted to reach out, to take up their offer without a second thought. So against his better judgment, he let himself step closer, studying the way they seemed to radiate with a quiet strength, a calm that fed into his own unrest in a way he couldn’t quite grasp.

E met his gaze, eyes steady and searching. “Who knows, maybe it could calm the need to wander for a time.”

A flicker of something softened Logan’s expression as he watched them, the words settling deep. “Not a lotta people see me,” he admitted, his voice gruff but his gaze locked onto theirs. “Not like this.”

E smiled, soft but sure. “Maybe because most people aren’t looking in the right places.”

They reached out, their hand brushing his forearm lightly once again, this time lingering—grounding him as much as it startled him. The tension between them was palpable, gnawing at his insides, at that hollow void that filled him. It felt like their connection was solidifying, and it was dangerous. It made his pulse race, his mind screaming at him to pull back, even as every fiber of him longed to stay close. He felt the warmth of their fingers as they pulled away, leaving a faint tingle in their wake. And suddenly, he wanted to know more about them—where they came from, what scars they hid beneath their words and allure, where they honed their fighting skills, what their true power was. So many questions burned on his lips, but he settled for something less intrusive instead.

“What about you… you ever stick around long enough to feel like you could belong somewhere?” he asked, voice low. He didn’t know where the question came from, only that it was out there now, drawn out by a need to connect, another piece of himself he rarely showed.

E paused, searching his eyes. “Once, maybe,” they murmured, and for a moment, a flicker of something deeply personal passed over their face. “But not for a long time.”

The weight of their words hung between them. They shifted again, the lingering sorrow barely visible before it was replaced by their usual confidence. But Logan caught it, the faint sadness, the echo of a familiar ache that mirrored his own. For just a heartbeat, they weren’t his rival, his partner in combat—they were something else, something fragile and human, someone who understood, and it awakened his protective instincts, making his claws itch under his skin.

“Guess we both got a little lost along the way,” he said softly.

They nodded, still holding his gaze, that warm glow growing just a touch brighter. “Then maybe we don’t need a map tonight. Just… a moment to be here.” Their eyes softened, catching his, and the way they looked at him, as if he was the only other soul in the universe, chipped away at some wall he hadn’t even known was still there.

Logan managed a rough smile, a smirk that barely covered the pull he felt toward them. “Guess I could live with that.”

E’s smile spread, almost in relief, as the two of them stood there—not fighters, not strangers, but two people sharing the same quiet space under the stars, filling the empty places between them, if only for a little while. Before he could stop himself, his thumb found its way to their cheek. The pull between them felt almost tangible, a lifeline connecting two drifting souls lost in the unending current of life.

Their face relaxed instantly under his touch, their eyes closing as a deep sigh escaped their lungs. They sensed his desire before he even realized what he was about to do. The world around them seemed to fade, the rustle of leaves and distant hum of crickets dissolving into the quiet thrum of their hearts. He leaned in, his lips so close they could feel the warmth of his breath, the space between them charged with anticipation.

And then they felt it—a subtle, almost magnetic pull as the energy began to flow, unbidden, from him to them. It was faint, like the first tremor of a storm. Panic flickered behind their eyes as they opened, the realization sharp and immediate. With a graceful tilt of their head, E shifted just enough for his lips to brush their cheek instead, the warmth there a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

Logan froze for a moment, surprise flickering across his expression before he blinked, as if shaking off a spell broken by the soft press of his lips against their cheek. He pulled back, eyes searching theirs for answers, confusion and something deeper swirling in their depths. The space between them thickened, heavy with the unspoken.

“I—” E’s voice wavered, a soft, apologetic smile tugging at their lips as their fingers drifted to the necklace at their throat, the cool pearl grounding them. “It’s late,” they said, each word layered with unexpressed longing.

Logan’s brows knit together, confusion still etched across his face as he took in their expression, the unguarded look that spoke of things they couldn’t voice. E took a long, steady look at him, memorizing the rough kindness in his eyes and the silent question he wouldn’t push. The pull between them ached with what they had to refuse.

With a deep breath, E took a step back. “Goodnight, Logan.”

The silence lingered as he watched them walk away, their silhouette fading into the night. Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something deeper than he’d anticipated. And for the first time since they’d met, he wondered just how much control he truly had over the pull that tethered him to them, an unknown force that defied the walls he’d spent a lifetime building.

To be continued…

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