#it would just say ‘somewhere in canada’ and ???? for the time

[theethoslab]

This feels like cursed illegal information

From the new official hermit clock site

[ducktollers]

kill yourself 👍

[roeverthemoon]

random thoughts, bday edition👇🏻

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

ravish part 3

hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett

a/n: this is the final part of the ravish series! hope you guys enjoyed it <3 T

wc: 6k

NSFW

18+ MDNI | age gap,oral sex, p in v intercourse, and sexual themes

summary: Y/N goes to Logan's cabin in Canada while she waits for him to return from Mexico. during her stay, she finds some personal mementos that give her a deeper understanding of who he really is.

"...I ain't gonna tell you again, kid, it's too dangerous." He grunted, smoothing down his beard with a hand in frustration. The roughness in his voice matched the irritation in his eyes.

You stood in front of the doorway, blocking him. 

"Why are you going if you're so concerned about safety? What if something happens to you?" you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. 

You weren’t just challenging him; you were demanding an explanation, the truth, something he couldn’t dodge with huffs and empty commands.

At the crack of dawn, you had ambushed Logan, catching him off guard before he could slip away into the shadows. 

The plan was simple.

Today, you weren’t separating paths; You had decided, and you weren’t about to let him just walk out without a fight.

But Logan, true to his protective nature, instantly shot down your idea, brushing it off. And now the two of you were standing there, bickering by the front door, each trying to make the other see their perspective.

"Because I can take it. You? Not so much. Now move, I gotta be somewhere." His voice was low and raspy, carrying a weight that was hard to argue with.

 He took a heavy step forward making the boards creak underneath him. He meant business, and you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to play games.

But you weren’t about to back down. 

"Then when am I going to see you again? If I can't go with you, how do I get in touch with you? You don't have a cell phone. Is there an address I can write to you?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

You reached out, gently touching his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound almost a sigh of resignation. For a moment, the harsh lines of his face softened, and he looked at you with hurt as if he heard you for the first time this morning. 

You both shared a look of longing before you cut the silence.

"I'm not being this adamant because I want to meet up again to fuck... I told you I liked you, Logan. If you leave for Mexico and we never see each other again, we won't get to explore this. I know you like me too." You slid your hand up to rest where his neck and shoulder meet. 

"You're right sweetheart, I do....a lot... It's just, I don't know when I'll be back," he said, his voice low and careful as if trying to choose the right words. "This type of thing... it can take a while." He looked down at you through his dark lashes.

He was leaving, without you.

The pressure in your chest subsided, and from the hand he placed on your waist you knew he was also upset.

 "Do you want to see me again?" You mumbled softly.

"Of course I do." His hands came up on your shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring. Logan pulled you in and pressed a long kiss on the top of your head. The warmth of his lips calmed every nerve in your body. 

He pulled away, steady, as always, but there was something in his eyes that told you this was just as hard for him as it was for you.

 "But I'm sorry, you can't come. I'd never forgive myself if something would happen to you." 

"Then I'll wait for you," you said, your voice calmer.

 "...Just give me a place to meet you. I don't care how long it'll take...I'll get by... I always do." You looked into his eyes, searching for some sign that he believed you, that he understood just how serious you were.

"You'll wait f'me?" His voice was softer now, almost uncertain as if he couldn't quite believe what you were saying. The gears in Logan turned as he thought of something.

"Yes, anywhere, I'll wait," you answered without hesitation.

He paused, considering your words, then nodded slowly.

"How about Canada?" 

Two weeks of walking, drives, train rides and taxis. That's what it took you to get to Logan's place in Deer Lake, Alberta.

 The journey up north was a first for you, an adventure into a new landscape that felt almost picturesque.

The countryside was a living canvas; Gorgeous snow-tipped mountains towered In the distance, tucked behind miles and miles of lush trees and massive lakes that shimmered reflections of a deep sapphire blue.

Logan's home—a cabin—was located deep within an untamed forest. The remoteness of the location was astonishing, so far away from any civilization, you wondered how he survived the winters alone; the taxi driver had only been able to take you so far before the road disappeared into the wild grass, leaving nothing but a rough trail that was impassable for a vehicle. 

From there, it was up to you to make the final trek on foot.

As you walked, the gravel crunched beneath you, the sound was oddly comforting in the quiet of the forest. The air was crisp and clean, breathing had suddenly become easier in the forest. The scent of pine and cedar filled your nostrils, clearing your sinuses from any blockage they might've had.

Approaching the cabin, you noticed scattered logs and woodworking tools lying around the property. You pieced together that Logan had built this place with his own bare hands. The mess in the yard was evidence of the hard work that had gone into building this place. Each log and nail was a hommage to his skill and stubbornness. 

Of course, Logan built his own house, you mumbled. 

Your mouth fell open in awe as you took in the sight of the cabin. It was more than just a structure—it was the product of Logan's blood, sweat, and tears.

 There was something deeply personal about it, something that made you feel honoured to be allowed into this part of his life. This wasn’t just a cabin, it was his getaway from all the bad things in his life.

The cabin, his home, was a mirror image of him—rugged, enduring, and built to withstand the harshest elements.

Stepping onto the front porch, your hand grazed over the smooth wooden railings of the stairs. His craftsmanship was impeccable, each detail was carefully considered, and each board was perfectly placed. Logan had picked the perfect area to carve out for himself in this remote corner of the world.

You inserted the key he had given you before he left into the doorknob and twisted. After hearing the faint clicking noise, you pushed it open to reveal the inside. 

His home was open-concept, the entrance positioned right between the kitchen and the living room. To your left, a maroon leather loveseat sat next to a matching recliner, both perfectly aligned to face a stone-built fireplace that reached up to the ceiling. 

The walls were decorated with Indigenous paintings, each one a cultural tapestry of the land. The artwork depicted vibrant scenes of nature and various animal spirits.

To your right was a modest kitchenette, equipped with all the essentials for a life lived simply but comfortably. The centrepiece was the sturdy table and chair set that appeared to be handmade, most likely by Logan himself. 

As you ventured deeper into the space, you spun slowly in a circle, trying to take it all in, it was gorgeous. You could feel him within these walls.

 The air carried a faint, lingering scent of his cigars, a comforting reminder of him. You wondered how long it had been since he was last here, sitting by the fire, drink in hand, perhaps lost in thought. 

You entered his bedroom with a gentle push of the door, revealing a space that mirrored the simple functionality of the rest of the cabin. Like the other rooms, it was decked out with only the essentials for comfort. A large bed, a handmade dresser that stood against the wall, its wood polished smooth from years of use. There was a spacious closet, probably filled with his few belongings, and a small nightstand with a simple lamp casting a soft, warm glow.

On the nightstand, you noticed an ashtray filled with grey dust.

I wonder how many lonely nights he spent in here, you thought.

Exhausted from the long journey, you decided to call it a night. You plopped down onto Logan’s bed, the mattress was firm but welcoming and pulled the blankets around you. 

The scent of the cabin wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. As your head sank into the pillow, you found yourself drifting off almost immediately, surrounded by the quiet peace of Logan’s space.

Miss you, You mumbled before closing your eyes for the night.

Two weeks since your arrival:

Days at the cabin seemed to blend together, slipping by with an ease that was both comfortable and foreign.

 You’d been on the road for most of your short life, always on the go, always searching for the next big thing.

 But here, in this secluded corner of the world, you found yourself settling into a routine—something you hadn’t realized you craved. The mundane act of daily chores became almost therapeutic.

You had begun exploring around the cabin, finding hidden trails that led you all over the place.  One path led you to a nearby town, a small, quaint place where life moved at a slower pace. The townspeople were friendly, their lives seemingly untouched by the chaos of the world.

 You frequented the local general store for groceries, picking up a few items and some clothes to better suit this colder climate. The change in scenery was drastic for you, but you found yourself adapting, maybe even enjoying the peace that came with it.

As the days passed, the cabin began to feel like your own. The once unfamiliar space became a place of comfort, each creak of the floorboards and crackle of the fire made you unwind. 

You decided to take on some of the household chores—tasks that probably didn’t come naturally to Logan.

 Spring cleaning became your mission, tackling the tedious details he might overlook. You wiped down the insides of kitchen drawers, scrubbed the fridge, and tossed out any expired food. It felt good to take care of these small things, you were kind of being a little housewife, preparing the home for Logan's arrival.

One afternoon, while organizing the kitchen, your fingers brushed against something tucked away in the back of a drawer. 

You decided to pull it out and realized it was an old map, the paper worn and creased from what seemed years of use. 

As you unfolded it, you noticed several locations marked in red ink. The meaning of these places was a mystery, and despite studying the map for a long while, you couldn’t decipher their significance. 

Japan, Madripoor, Northern Canada, Mexico,

Puzzled, you left the map on the table. The idea was that maybe if you came back to it later, you'd see something you hadn't noticed in the first place. 

The thought occurred to you to ask Logan about it when he returned. Would he have a simple explanation or go back to shooting it down?

Over the following days, you found yourself returning to it, your fingers tracing the lines and paths, your mind wandering to what expeditions or memories these marks represented.

In these moments, you couldn't help but think, 

He’s no handyman, that’s for sure.

Three Weeks since your arrival: 

As you prepared for bed one night, the soft glow of the lamp illuminated the room in a gentle, amber light. During your bedtime routine, something caught your eye—a glint of metal in the corner of the room, just beside the dresser on the floor.

 Curious, you approached and discovered a set of dog tags lying on the floor, half-hidden beneath a loose floorboard.

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. 

Logan had been in the military. 

It was a part of his past you had no clue about, a fragment of his story that added depth to the riddle that was him. You had sensed that one night there was a darkness within him, but now, seeing these tags, you began to understand the source of that shadow—his time as a soldier, the battles fought, and the scars born. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gently traced your thumb over the engravings on the tags. Each mark and number seemed to hold trauma, something that represented his time, far away from the peace of the cabin. You tried to imagine the weight of these tags around his neck during those times of darkness, and it filled you with sadness.

With a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks. In this moment you were feeling an inexplicable connection to him through this small, metallic relic. A part of you wanted to honour his remarkable selflessness. You slipped the chain over your head and let the tags rest against your chest, giving them a gentle squeeze, a small gesture of comfort as you tried to steady the storm of emotions inside you.

The thought of Logan facing any dangers far away in Mexico seemed almost unbearable. The weight of the dog tags felt like a physical reminder of the challenges he faced, the unknown threats he confronted, and the loneliness that came with his life of constant danger. 

He survived in the past, he'll survive again. You told yourself.

You longed to have him next to you in bed, to offer him a comforting hug, but the miles that separated you felt like an eternity away.

Four Weeks since your arrival: 

After a successful day of fishing at the lake, you returned home, enthusiastic and sopping wet from an unexpected stumble into the water. Your clothing clung to you and the chilly evening air covered your body in goosebumps. You hurried inside, eager to change into some dry clothes.

Logan’s wardrobe provided a relief. You rummaged through his drawers, searching for something comfortable to wear—a t-shirt, a pair of pyjama pants, and socks. The familiar feel of his clothes was oddly comforting, a small link to him while he was so far away. After all he did only own multiples of the same clothing articles. 

As you dug deeper into the drawer, your fingers brushed against something unexpected. You pulled out a Polaroid photo, slightly crumpled and tucked away behind other items. Intrigued, you examined it more closely.

The image was of a dark-haired woman with hazel eyes, seductively bound with ropes, completely nude and captured in a moment of intimacy. The rawness and vulnerability of the photo struck a jealous chord, and for a moment, you were taken aback. The woman’s identity didn't make sense to you at all, you knew Logan was single, and there was nothing left of a female in the cabin. Even though it might've been an old girlfriend, the discovery stirred a mix of emotions—curiosity, surprise, and discomfort. 

You couldn’t help but wonder about the context of the photo. 

Was this someone important to him? 

Did he hold onto the photo for special meaning or as a memory for him?

 Your mind raced with questions, each one feeling deeper and more personal. The photograph was intimate and private. It felt like a glimpse into a side of Logan you hadn’t seen before—one that was carefree, open and playful. 

Feeling a surge of conflicting emotions, you gently set the photo back to where it belonged, buried under piles of socks. The photo had given you a lot to think about, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just one more piece of Logan’s past that you were uncovering from spending time in his home.

As you slipped into the dry clothes, the warmth of the t-shirt and pyjama pants was comforting, but the image lingered in your thoughts, leaving you with more questions than answers about the man whose home you now shared.

Six Weeks since your arrival:

You were determined to light a fire inside the cabin tonight. But first thing first, you now needed to chop firewood since you had used up all of Logan's. You enjoyed the luxury of a nice warm fireplace every night and that wasn't going to end anytime soon. 

 The task was tougher than you anticipated. You huffed as you dragged some of the smaller logs onto the chopping block. You hoisted it up on it with all your might, wincing as you felt the rough bark scrape against your palms. The pain was sharp but didn't last long as you wiped the blood on your clothes, focusing on the task at hand. You had become a woman of the forest.

You picked up the axe, its weight heavy in your hands. Hoisting it above your head, you struggled to keep it steady. With a deep breath, you brought it down with all your might. The axe’s iron head split through the wood with a satisfying thunk, sending the splintered halves flying, making a metallic clang echo beneath one of the pieces as it hit the ground.

 Curious, you crouched down and peered underneath. To your astonishment, you discovered a hidden hatch covered by dirt and twigs. Your heart raced with excitement and curiosity. Dust clouded the air as you tugged the hatch open, revealing a narrow space underground.

You dropped to all fours and stuck your head down into the hatch, your breath mingling with the musty scent of hidden secrets. The space below was dimly lit by daylight filtering through the hatch, but even in the low light, you could make out the outline of a well-organized stash.

Inside, you found a collection of weapons—various blades and firearms neatly arranged and meticulously maintained. There were combat knives with polished handles, tactical pistols, and rifles of different calibres. Given Logan’s past military service, it made sense that he would keep a well-stocked arsenal on his property, even if it was hidden away for safety. Though it didn't seem completely out of the realm of expectations, the amount of weapons did make you question why he felt he needed that many. 

Had he needed to use them recently? 

Was he supplying a team or working alone? 

Even though you knew Logan was involved in violent organizations now, you still could not bring yourself to fear him. Your gut just kept on assuring you that he was a good guy and meant no harm to you. You also trusted his judgement, he had a kind heart and you were positive that if he were to hurt someone it would be for their good. 

With a final look at the hidden stash, you turned back to your woodpile, the task at hand feeling somehow more significant now. As you continued to chop the wood, your mind replayed the countless questions you now had for Logan upon his arrival. 

Eight Weeks since your arrival:

You were rummaging through the cabin, searching for batteries for Logan's radio. The radio had become a comforting presence during your stay, its music, a soothing aid against the isolation and the creeping paranoia that sometimes cropped on you. The constant thought of being alone in the vast wilderness, with the constant worry of a wild animal breaking through the door, made the staticky tunes a necessity for your sanity.

After scouring every possible location, you were down to your last hope—the top shelf of Logan’s closet. Balancing on your tiptoes, you stretched your arm up, hoping to feel the familiar shape of a battery package. Instead, your hand brushed against something sharp. You pulled your hand back quickly, wincing as you noticed a shard of glass embedded in your fingertip.

Curiosity got the better of you. 

Determined, you grabbed a kitchen chair and carefully positioned it beneath the closet shelf. You climbed onto the chair and reached up again, this time with more caution, and found the source of the sharp sensation—a broken picture frame.

Carefully, you lifted the frame and inspected it, noticing the fragments of glass that had scattered around. You set the frame gently on the floor, making sure not to cut yourself further, and turned it over to reveal the photograph behind the glass.

The picture was old and slightly faded, but it was clear enough to see the faces of those it depicted. Logan was in the center, surrounded by  X-Men members you recognized: Jean Grey, with her vibrant red hair; Cyclops, his visor unmistakable even in this casual setting; and Storm, her white hair flowing with almost ethereal grace. They were all posed together, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter, capturing a good, warm moment.

As you examined the photo, a wave of realization washed over you. You had heard of the X-Men in stories and legends, but you had never imagined Logan was connected to them, let alone be one of them. The presence of these iconic figures, the heroes you had only known through tales and news reports, was a clear indication that Logan was once part of something extraordinary.

This photograph was more than just a snapshot; it was a revelation of his identity. Logan was not just a lonely man with a mysterious past—he was a mutant, a member of the X-Men, a hero with a legacy that spanned beyond what you had ever understood. The contrast between the vibrant camaraderie of the photo and the isolated, battle-worn figure you knew was striking.

What in the world had led him to such loneliness and solitude? 

Why was the picture broken, had he done that to it? 

As you held the frame, you felt sympathy and awe. This discovery added a new layer of complexity to your understanding of him. These were the people who had shaped him, and it deepened your appreciation for them.

You were fast asleep until the bedroom door creaked open, and your eyelids flew open in response.

Logan.

You turned over to turn on the lamp.

His complexion had deepened from the sun in Mexico, and his hair had grown out a bit, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He looked down at you with tired eyes and a soft, relieved smile. You had fulfilled your promise and waited for him. 

"Logan," you rasped, your voice thick with sleep. You had been waiting for this moment for weeks.

"Hi, baby. Sorry I woke you," he whispered, approaching you and kneeling beside the bed. His hand reached out to brush some stray hairs away from your face, a tender gesture that made your heart swell.

You didn’t care about being woken up. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He returned it with equal strength, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you as if he might never let go. 

You inhaled deeply, taking in his scent—different, altered by time and distance, yet still undeniably him. His hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled you against him.

"I missed you so much," you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled by the fabric but laced with raw emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to loosen your grip on him.

"So did I, princess," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He gently nudged you back, signalling for you to look at him.

You met his hazel eyes with your own, now glistening with tears. He used his thumb to gently wipe away a tear that had escaped down your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss, one filled with longing and love. 

His lips claimed yours hungrily, his hands cupping your face, holding you in place as if to make up for all the lost time. You melted into him, surrendering to the moment, to the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the warmth of his touch.

For the past two months, he had thought of you every single day, the memory of you his constant companion amid chaos. There were moments when he had considered abandoning everything just to return to you, but he knew the importance of his mission. He had told himself that if he could endure the pain, and the heartache of being away, he would be rewarded with the sweetest reunion.

His lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw, planting soft kisses along the way. He found the sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your fingers instinctively gripped the back of his neck, holding him closer, wanting more. The sensation of his touch after so long sent chills down your spine, a reminder of the connection you shared. You tilted your head back, giving him full access, and his mouth left warm, wet trails on your skin as he explored further.

But then, without warning, he suddenly pulled away. You let out a small whine at the loss of his warmth, your eyes searching for his.

His gaze had dropped to your chest, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Lo?" you asked softly, following his gaze. Then you saw it—the dog tags.

His fingers traced the ball chain with a calloused touch, the metal cool against your skin as he followed its curve. You felt a shiver run through you, not just from the contact but from the significance of the moment.

"I found them," you said quietly, placing your hand over his, pressing it to your chest, where your heartbeat had begun to race. "I had no clue that you had served... You know, I learned a lot about you while you were gone."

He didn’t respond immediately, just kept his eyes down, focused on your hands entwined over the dog tags.

"What did you learn?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know who you are, Logan... I know what you are, and I'm not scared," you said, your voice trembling with sincerity.

 "I have an idea of what you were doing down in Mexico, and I know you have the best intentions at heart. I trust you and your judgment. So, if you had to... hurt people... there, I know it’s because they deserved it. I'm not going anywhere, Logan. I'm just happy you're back and safe."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "You sure?" he asked, his voice filled with a vulnerability that took you by surprise.

You nodded, your eyes locking onto his with unwavering determination.

 "I'm sure. You're home now, and that's all that matters to me. I'm all yours," You pulled him in for another kiss. 

Logan's fire lit within him: you were all his. 

He matched your energy once more, feeding the primal hunger that had been eating at him all this time.  Your lips locked and tongues trailed on top of each other in ecstasy. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth before biting down on it gently as he had taught you. He groaned in your mouth, gripping your hips tightly, his nails dug into your sides. 

"Lay down baby," He mumbled against your lips. You obliged, letting your back fall on the mattress, Logan hovered over you, taking in the sight of your body. His eyes trailed up and down, savouring every inch of your body for his memory. 

"You're so fucking pretty," He cooed resuming his place on your neck. You flinched from the sudden stimulation, a surprised moan escaping your lips. 

He licked his way down to the neckline of your shirt, you gripped the sheets behind you as the excitement built in your lower abdomen. 

With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, Logan extended his arm, and you heard a metallic *snikt* as his claws slid out from between his knuckles. The room, which had been filled with the warmth of your reunion, now hummed with a different kind of energy—something raw and vulnerable.

You stared, wide-eyed, as the three gleaming metal blades emerged from his hand, each one impossibly sharp and perfectly aligned. They reflected the dim light in the room, casting slender, shimmering lines across the walls.

For a moment, you could do nothing but observe them in stunned amazement. This was the ability, the weapon that had been a part of him for so long, and he was sharing it with you; how special.

You reached out, almost instinctively, your fingers trembling as they hovered near the metal. Logan's eyes met yours, searching for any sign of fear or hesitation. But you felt none. Instead, there was a deep curiosity, a need to understand this part of him.

Gently, you let your fingers brush against the surface of one of the blades. The metal was cold and smooth, the edges impossibly sharp. You marvelled at how something so deadly could be a part of the man you loved. It was hard to wrap your mind around it—how could flesh and bone give rise to something so unnatural, so extraordinary?

"They're beautiful," You hummed in delight, looking up at him with the warmest smile. 

"You're something else, aren't you?" He sighed relieved.

With a swift movement, he cut your shirt down the middle, your breasts falling out. 

"Logan-" You gasped in surprise, his smile turned dark as he retracted the claws back inside. 

"Was in my way," He smirked, dropping his face to your chest and sucking one of your nipples in his mouth. His free hand immediately finds your other one, palming your flesh, toying with your sensitive nipples with his fingers. You moan loudly, arching your back into his skilled maneuvers. It felt amazing but you needed more. More touch. More friction. More Logan. 

With a distinctive pop, he releases your nipple from his grasp.

"Please," You breathed needily. You were feeling yourself getting wetter by the moment.

He admired you from below; how your hand was gripped in the sheets over your head, how your eyelids were just barely open with lust. He kissed his way down from your breasts to your stomach, leaving a few of his marks on your body. Gentle ones of course. 

“I'm going to make you feel good, okay sweetheart?” Logan soothes, pulling down the pyjama pants down your legs with ease. You helped him remove them frantically, knowing what was about to happen next.

 “Okay, Lo-” He tosses the bottoms to the other side of the room and spreads your legs wide open for him.

“Fuck baby," He groaned as he admired your perfectly shaped core, already dripping and aching for him. 

He brought his hands to your folds, spreading them open with his thumbs. You twitched underneath his touch eager to feel some release. 

"Been thinking about doing this for a long time," He mumbled before diving face-first into you. His tongue made contact with your sensitive bud sending your back into an aggressive arch. He started slowly, licking long fat lines. You twitched at every flick of his tongue on your clit. 

He slid both of his hands to grip your thighs roughly, pushing them further open for him. He picks up his pace, moving his jaw faster against you. Your wetness drenched his face, dripping from his chin as he lapped rhythmically with his skilled tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to inch you closer to your breaking point. 

"You taste just as good as the first time," He praised between breaths before sucking your clit into his mouth. His warm soft lips wrapped around it tightly as he pushed against it causing the most delicious friction. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation. 

You were already close, you hadn't touched yourself during his absence and even the slightest touch was sending you near the edge. 

Logan was growing painfully hard against his jeans, every whimper and moan that escaped your lips made the pressure increase. How he adored having you in his mouth, seeing you up close like this, tasting your sweet honey on his tongue while your intoxicating smell filled his senses. 

He gave a slite bite on your clit as he recalled you enjoyed that last time. With a fuck, your hands snapped to his hair, grabbing fistfuls. He grinned against you doing it again, as he pressed a finger against your entrance, slowly pushing his fingers inside. You gasped as he stretched you out. While keeping up his momentum with his tongue he began to pump his fingers with it. Both points of friction accelerated your rise to your orgasm.

You’re a whimpering mess underneath him, you try to mask the noise by biting down on the pillow.

 “Don't hold back, I want to hear those pretty noises you're making darlin', ” Logan praises, thrusting deeper inside, all the way to his knuckles. You release the material from your teeth, letting out a 'gonna cum logan,'

"Cum for me princess," He moans, high off of the pleasure of eating you out. He’s devouring you, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue circling your clit. He bites down again, pulling back his fingers outside of you, you moan at the sensation. He pulls his face away from your swollen clit and slaps his hand down on your core. 

Your hips buck in surprise and the slight sharpness of the pain tips you over the edge, before you know it you're rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Logan rubs his rough palm on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm, he pulls you closer by your neck and kisses you aggressively. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling his body down so that his chest is flush with yours. “Need you inside,” you beg, lips against his. “Need you inside.”

Logan gets up and pulls his shirt over his shoulders, discarding it in some corner of the room. He drinks in the sight of your post-orgasm frame, trying to catch your breath as he fiddles with his belt. With a few clinking noises and a zip, he pushed his jeans down, his cock springing out aggressively. 

He returns to his position on the bed, between your legs. His lips come crashing down on yours as he strokes it a few times to ease the tension. "Are you sure, baby? It might be a little much for you, I'm more than happy with just eating you out." He locks eyes with you, looking for your approval.

You grin. "I'm yours, Logan, I'm sure." You pull him in for another kiss as he pushes the tip of his cock past your entrance. Your body jolts in surprise by the sheer size of it, but with every inch he goes deeper, the more you get used to him. You moan into his mouth as he works his way into you.

His lips are on yours, he’s plunging into you slowly, down to the hilt. “Fuck,” he groans, his cock throbbing inside you. “You're so fucking tight,” he murmurs, buried deep inside of you. “I might not last long,” He lets out a dry laugh before thrusting in and out.

Your hands find themselves gripping Logan's back muscles, grazing your nails across his skin. He groaned as the stinging sensation began to tingle. 

“Taking me so well,” Logan praises, ducking into your neck and sucking on it. He pumps along your walls, his hips snapping against yours. His pace picks up, thrusts becoming faster. Your entrance squeezed around his girth as he pounded deep inside you. 

"Fuck," He grunts between breaths.

He rams into you. Over and over, his sensitive tip enveloped you, warm and wet.

 “I'm so happy I'm yours,” you moan. " Always gonna be yours.” His cock twitches at your words. You watch as his abs flex, his muscles tightening and releasing with every thrust.

 The kisses on your neck became sloppy, and his thrusts were irregular. 

His cock twitches inside you again, throbbing against your walls. You know he's close because he's moaning and pulls away from your neck looking for your eyes. 

His muscles flex as he finds your face, and he throws his head back mindlessly pumping his warm hot seed inside of you. His hands softly stroking your thigh as he comes back to his senses.

With a few other pumps, he pulls out dropping next to you in the bed. He pulls you close keeping your head on his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his ribcage. 

"That was so-"

"Needed." He finished

"Yes, needed." You agreed, tracing circles against his chest as he caught his breath.

A moment of silence passed, and you both comfortably enjoyed each other's company.

As the quiet stretched between you, the soft hum of the night outside filtered into the room, making the moment feel even more serene. Logan’s heartbeat began to slow, and the steady rhythm beneath your fingertips was soothing. You felt completely at peace in his arms, as if the chaotic world beyond the four walls of the bedroom didn’t exist.

He shifted slightly, adjusting to pull you even closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. His hand drifted to your back, tracing lazy lines along your spine, the touch intimate and grounding. It was moments like this where words weren’t necessary. The connection between you spoke louder than anything you could say.

"You okay?" Logan murmured, breaking the silence in a voice so low it was barely above a whisper. His tone was soft, tender, almost as if he feared disturbing the quiet that had settled between you.

You nodded against his chest. "More than okay," you whispered back, your fingers continuing their idle patterns against his skin. "I’m happy you’re here. Really here."

His arms tightened around you in response. "I’m not going anywhere," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a promise, the kind he rarely made.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you nuzzled deeper into his embrace, the scent of him—familiar and grounding—filling your senses. His warmth enveloped you, lulling you into a state of complete relaxation. The world outside felt distant and irrelevant, and all that mattered was this moment, with him by your side.

As the minutes passed, you both drifted into a comfortable stillness, your breaths synchronizing, the only sound being the soft rustle of the sheets and the steady beat of Logan’s heart beneath your ear. This was all you needed—him, right here, with you.

As you closed your eyes, drifting on the edge of sleep, Logan’s hand gently tightened on your hip, and in a low, teasing murmur, he whispered, "Next time, I’m going to ravish you all over again."

sorry it took so long, I started uni <3 love you guys and thank you for enjoying the Ravish series. hope yall request or stick around for more.

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[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

What do you think it would be like to marry Kurt? Do you think he’d invite everyone he could possibly think of, or one with just his mothers, Rouge and Gambit? Who do you think would be the officiant?

And do you think he’d go all out for it and make it grand, or just leave it it simplistic? Because I feel like he’d want it to be more simple.

And what kind of ring do you think he would like? I think a silver one would go lovely with his skin, like moonlight casting it’s breathtaking image onto a glimmering lake.

I know that he is technically not allowed to get married since he’s a Catholic priest but I need him so badly! :( Oh my gosh I love him so much! 😭😭😭

You know, I think he could do both, actually. Of course, I also don’t really see him going all out and inviting 500 people while renting a massive hall, but I think he’d want to celebrate with family and friends, so here are my thoughts:

There are in fact two ceremonies, one for him, his significant other and his closest people, and one for celebrating with everyone they want to have there.

The first wedding would be a very small ceremony in a small chapel, probably somewhere in a forest in Germany, just with his s/o, Rogue as his "Best Man“, and one other person for his s/o’s Best Man or Maid of Honour (and of course the priest).

It’s just really small and private and intimate and absolutely lovely. They spend their honeymoon in a small cabin in the forest/mountains in Germany, just a week for just the two of them. Just existing with each other. And don’t think that this man won’t worship the ground his s/o is walking on.

After the first ceremony there is not a huge celebration. They maybe go for dinner in a nice restaurant but that’s it.

The second ceremony though…..is a bit more lively.

I’d like to say, that the wedding ceremony was held on the school’s ground, a few weeks after the original wedding ceremony. And since they’re already legally married, it’s all a bit more relaxed.

Honestly, I’m not sure who would officiate the wedding. My first thought would be Xavier, but I think that’s because he gives off this old, wise man vibes, that are stereotypical for a officiant. Now, that I think about it, I actually think that I would love to see Gambit officiate the wedding.

He’s as good as Kurt’s brother-in-law, so I’d like to think that he would do Kurt this favour, because for him, Kurt is family [though he would never say that out loud] and Kurt thinks the same way. And it’s beautiful.

It’s most likely during vacations. Not that he doesn’t love the kids, but he does not necessarily want them all around. Close ones and older ones, sure, but there will be another celebration for that. For this celebration, he sticks with the older ones.

There is a huge pavilion with beautiful arrangements and decorations and Storm makes sure that there won’t be one rainy cloud around for that day.

Kurt cries, when he sees his s/o walk down the aisle [just like the first time]. The vows are more beautiful than on their first wedding (they didn’t really do vows then, because it was just small) and even Logan shed a tear.

Gambit did a splendid job btw. Just like the rest who helped to organise this celebration, so it would be a bit of a surprise for the newlyweds.

The cake is of course chocolate, though not completely, if his s/o does not like it. The dance is just really emotional and Kurt safely leads his spouse over the dance floor. It kind of inspires the others, so there will be a lot of dancing.

Rogue holds a beautiful speech as sister of the groom and Kurt cries silentely, before just hugging her very, very hard.

It’s a long day, but an amazing one, and everybody made sure that the couple got a few more days to themselves in a cabin in Canada (sponsored by Logan) as some sort of second honeymoon.

After the holidays, there will be a summer party with the kids, where Kurt and his spouse will also be celebrated, but not that much.

In General, I think he will do both weddings, just to make sure that 1) he will have a day solely dedicated to him and his partner without too much stress and 2) everybody they care about will have the opportunity to celebrate with them.

However, no matter how the wedding will go, it will be beautiful. I mean, it’s Kurt Wagner, what are you expecting?

He will spend the entire night staring lovingly at his s/o and dance with them, kiss them and constantly call them “My wife” or “My husband” or “My spouse” as well as “Mrs. Wagner”/”Mr. Wagner”/”Mx Wagner”. Kurt just can’t get enough of it!

It’s also very sweet and it shows how much he cares about them.

It’s just a very, very beautiful affair and marrying him is one of the best things anyone could do.

[cheriladycl01]

Billion Dollar Baby - Grid x Billionare! Reader x Lewis Hamilton (Rom) Part 2

Plot: Girlie loves Formula One, but she also loved Chaos and Drama so she offers the FIA/ the F1 Teams 300 million to do a race … for her under her rules!

You’d been working tirelessly with the FIA and all the teams, making sure that their cars were the same as the ones currently on track and that the teams still had enough time for their regular tasks within the team.

You’d been between the UK, Monaco, Italy and the US. Helping all the teams prepare, going round to get special one time sponsors involved in the name of charity and you were honesty exhausted.

You decided it was time for a break, and therefore time to call upon one of your holiday homes. You didn’t know whether you wanted to go to Greece or Mauritius. But you knew you just needed some time away.

You were walking around London looking for a new suitcase, your 10 year old Louis Vuitton had finally given up and was no longer able to be used. So you knew you needed to find something different.

“Do you guys like this one?” You asked the security guards that were with you. Your personal assistant was also supposed to be there, but since you were about to go on holiday she also decided to take her annual leave.

Apparently she got a last minute flight to Canada, and you knew she worked extremely hard to make your horrendously busy like a little easier so you knew this would be important for her.

“Mmmm very nice Miss” one smiles and you cock your head to the side with a little laugh.

“No passion, I definitely needed Lysa here” you sigh jokingly making security laugh.

“Miss, where do you wish to go after this? Harrods is close enough” he offers and you nod, knowing it was safely walkable.

As your walking you spot someone across the street from you, and before you can even look to see if there are any cars coming down the one way street you’re crossing the road to that individual.

“Lewis! Lewis! Hi!” You smile running over to him, your group of security chasing after you.

“Y/N? What are you doing in the UK?” He asks looking over you. He hadn’t seen you since the meeting with all the teams and the FIA, you looked more tired. Not that you looked bad tired, Lewis thought it was impossible for you to look bad at all, he’s seen you at your worst and still thought you were gorgeous.

“Just here before I go on holiday for a little bit. Most of my work is done with the teams so I wanted a little break from work and this race that I’ve been organising. I hope you’ll find it fun, and get a chance to see a new light of the sport” you smile calmly and be smiles back at you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, knowing you had a few comfort vacation sports and if he were to guess you’d be going to one of those rather than somewhere new.

“Mauritius” you smile and he grins, you guys always went there together. He was shocked that you hadn’t sold the Villa on after the two of you broke up considering how many summer or winter breaks you’d spent there.

“At the Villa? Or?” He asks.

“Mmmm at the Villa, say you guys have a nice little break now. Do you want to come with me?” You ask out if the blue.

“Oh, erm you want me to come with you?” He asks a bit shocked that you’d offered.

“Yeah for old time sake?” You smile awkwardly and he just coughs with a little laugh.

“Look, I thought about what you said and you were … are it for me too. And if you want to, I’m willing to try again. Only if … that’s something you wanted” you admit and he just stands there with his jaw dropped, the security guards are awkwardly trying to act as if they aren’t actually there.

“Y/N, I thought …” he says and you cock your head in confusion.

“You thought?” You push him to finish what he was about to say.

“You hated me in all honesty. And I thought you’d never give me another chance. I don’t even know if I deserve one with the way I ended things” he sighs.

“We needed things to end when they did Lewis otherwise it was going down a route neither of us would have been happy down. But I think we’ve both had time to grow since and I think part of me always knew if make my way back to you!” You smile at him and a soft grin breaks out on his face.

“Of course I’ll come with you! What are you doing right now?” He asks finally smiling and nodding at your security and saying a small little hello.

“Suitcase shopping the Dior one has officially been decommissioned” you smile and he nods knowing the exact one you were on about considering it was brought to every race, every business trip and every holiday you joined him on or he joined you on.

“Ah yes. The one that the spider from Qatar travelled back to the UK with us in” he laughs at the memory and how you both freaked out seeing the thick bodied brown spider that to you and Lewis thought could be some kind of Tarantula.

“Oh god don’t remind me! That was terrifying! Do you want to come help me look for a new one, we were about to go to Harrods” you offer and you smile at him.

“Yea, I think I’d like that!” He smiles taking your hand.

deuxmoi

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deuxmoi Spotted in London last night, y/user and lewishamilton ex partners … is there a rekindling of their relationship that ended in 2021? Or are they just hanging out as exes who bumped into each other. 📸 beckylecky2

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estiebestie: please omg mum and dad NEED to get back together

lecsainz: omg this wasn’t on my f1 bingo card

landoscurls: y/n ~ best WAG

-> valtteripeaches: she’s been my fav since 2016

avengermaxv1: damn thought that was done and dusted in 2021

Taglist:

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[tinytennisskirt]

A Slippery Slope

Summary: Every girl has their favourite ex. The one they will forever have a soft spot for. Reader is above all of that, doing all she can to avoid Art when he’s back in town for tennis. Unfortunately, he’s unavoidable and has a lot of things to say about the way he left things…

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, rehashing a breakup, kind of hurt/comfort? I’m not sureee

It’s not like you were stalking him or anything… and if you were, it was totally normal for girls to stalk their exes. Part of being a girl is stalking your ex, like a rite of passage. You were just lucky his progress and whereabouts were publicized.

Art Donaldson was going to be in your hometown again after leaving for college three years ago. His tennis brought him here, a tiny little tournament. It was a charity game, so people paid to watch. It was in the news that Art had refused to receive any portion of a winning and that it go directly to a children’s hospital in Canada. As sweet as that was, it was also presumptuous that he would win. You scoffed a little to ignore the fact he was there on the website, smile gleaming, curls all blonde and pretty. He was sweet, you had to ignore that.

The feeling that him coming back here gave you was a mix of anxiety and anticipation. For what? You didn’t know exactly. He would be back and you could go to his game for $20. Like it was nothing, you could see him in the flesh again. But you said no, because your best friend would probably yell at you and kick your ass. So you shut the screen and pretended like it wasn’t real.

When the tournament was in town, the Main Street turned into a giant sale. Every shop had a tent outside of itself enticing people to come by. You avoided it the past week, getting to work by an extra-long route. It was easy not to think about him (though you did from time to time) when he was off somewhere far playing tennis- but now that it was here and there were posters up and the library promoted it and the lamppost flags were changed to commemorate the event, they may as well have plastered Art’s face all over everything.

The tournament was tomorrow now. Soon you had no reason to worry about. It would be easy. It was around seven and the summer sun still warmed the air, but it was getting chillier with every ten minutes that passed by. You headed down from your little above-bakery apartment, bag in hand and flip phone in the other. The walk to the bar was delightful, a good thing after a busy day at work.

You walked in and sat at the bar, your usual spot for Friday nights. You usually never went to the bar alone- it was often you and your best friend but she was on a first date and you still needed your gin. You ordered a small drink, strong though. Tasted a bit gross but it was fine- you deserved it. After all this avoidance, all of this torture, being on complete edge- plus work.

You got another drink and sipped on it while checking your email on your phone. Flipping through unread, work emails, messages from friends about an upcoming birthday and what food to bring. A few more drinks, light, hard, you were tipsy but not drunk. Enough to be satisfied and fuzzy. You were conversing with the bartender who you knew well- she was a friend of a friend and you were a regular. You were struggling to hear her over the noise of a nearby group of guys.

“Another round of shots for the boy!”

“Woah, woah, I can’t get drunk guys, I told you,” another voice piped up. You recognized it. You hated how your head turned. Your heart stopped for a moment. Amongst the crowd, in the very centre, was the very blonde mop of curls that had been haunting your dreams for the past week. It was Art. He was here. Right now. In the bar with you. “Okay, maybe another shot.” He grinned at his friends.

Your heart beat hard in your chest. And you were about to look away to save yourself- but his eyes met yours and it was immediately too late. Blue eyes on yours. And his grin dampened to an open-mouthed look of awe. You looked away and grabbed your bag to pull your wallet out and pay as fast as you could. All of the avoidance, all of the torment, just how shitty it was to know he was back- it all was falling in on you.

All you had to do was avoid it all. And it was too late. You paid quickly and apologized for rushing off and you got up to go and he was right there in front of you.

“Y/N,” Art said. He still looked a little surprised. But this was your hometown. You blinked hard and pushed your hair away from your face. He was really here, he was here standing in front of you. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you replied. You didn’t want to look at him, you were nervous, afraid, intimidated. What if you weren’t improved enough- or prettier than you were before. Something about seeing an ex that made you re-evaluate yourself. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” He answered, upbeat. “I didn’t expect to see you here. If I had known you were still around I might have messaged.”

Would he really? It felt like a jab at the fact you still lived here. “I’m alright. I’ve been working.” You wished you weren’t tipsy, but he seemed so as well.

“I have a tournament tomorrow- are you going?” Maybe he drank more than you.

“I have work,” you told him. “It’s good to see you though, I have to be on my way, I’m so sorry-“ You lied. As good as it was to see him, you’d been afraid of seeing him again, feeling things again. The risk was very real, no matter what he had done wrong before.

He narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to see you. I’m glad I caught you. I’ve been… um… ever since I got here I’ve been thinking about you. I was going to call tomorrow after the tournament.”

You blinked a few times, “Oh,” you said. As you said, the risk was very real. “I- um. Sorry, I’ve been drinking.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I get it.”

“I’m really sorry, I’m out of it,” you followed up. He was prettier than you remembered. His curls were more defined, longer. He matured, he looked more adult, but still young. He had been thinking about you… meaning to call… “It’s been good to see you, Art. And good luck at your tournament.”

“Do you really have to go, Y/N? I know I’m out of it too but you’re here and I… I know you.” He did. Somehow. He knew you were lying.

You sighed, “I really am sorry, I’m just tired.” You’d thought about how you’d act if you saw him again but your mouth was moving faster than your mind, trying to get you out of the situation because it felt like fight or flight. “Goodnight.” You tried to go again but he kept speaking.

“Can I walk you home?” He asked. You stopped walking and turned back to him. He was out of it, but you were a woman walking downtown at night. Usually you’d be with your girlfriends and you’d never travel alone and it didn’t occur to you that you would be. As much as you hated this current situation, it was safer. You nodded, slowly. And started mentally preparing. Would you seem impressive compared to his feats since you broke up? Did you look okay? Was everything okay?

Art ditched his friends. He didn’t say goodbye, he just stepped out with you. You were silent. “Did you dye your hair?” He asked as you began to walk.

You nodded, “Highlights, so kind of.”

“Ah,” he nodded back. “How have you been the past few years?” You remembered the healing process after him.

“I’ve been okay. Like I said, just working a lot. I have my own apartment now and some good friends. It’s not like college and travelling around to fun cities for tennis.” You said. He looked at his feet, smiling. You’d just given away that you’d kept tabs on him. “It’s not like I don’t have access to your Facebook. Or tennis news.”

He grinned at you. “Well I wish they had more hometown news because as many times as I’ve checked I couldn’t find anything about you anywhere. Look- I was going to call you tomorrow because I wanted to apologize to you properly. I know how I left sucked. I wished immediately and over the past few years that I’d gone about it differently and I want to apologize to you. Properly. And not now. Sober. Completely.” He said. His grin had lowered.

“I don’t need an apology, I dealt with everything when you left,” you told him a little too candidly.

He ran a hand through his hair, his blue eyes meeting yours. “I know. But it’s been eating me alive and I’ve spent every day since feeling guilty. I want to apologize right- I’m here now and as a man, I hate to beg but would you give me a chance to do that? We can get dinner after the tournament, my treat.” He had a hint of a smile.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you repeated. “I’m glad you’ve done some reflecting but you hurt me. I want to say no, Art.”

“I know.” He said, smile falling. “But I’m not who I was then. And I know better. If you hear me out and it’s not sufficient, I’ll be gone in two days and I’ll just be tennis news again.”

You both stopped walking and the silence was filled by the wind in the trees of the park that you passed with a small hint of the noise of cars on a nearby main road. He looked at you in a way that was so familiar, eyes soft- and new demeanour of being on the verge of giving up. But you saw his sincerity, unfortunately, locking eyes with his on this sidewalk. All he did was shrug and you shook your head slowly, eyes not leaving his.

“Okay,” you said, hushed. And a small smile creeped back onto his face. And you both, in unison, continued walking wordlessly. He walked you to the door of your building and stayed until you unlocked the door. “Goodnight, Art.” You said, stepping in.

He raised his hand, not waving, just raised, and smiled a small smile, his face illuminated from the golden light of the hallway, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

And you went to bed that night slightly freaked out, a little excited, and extremely nervous.

The next day rolled around and the same anxiety was NOT slept off. You worked a bit from home- You showered, did your hair the way you usually did, did your makeup and dressed in something that was comfortable, but nice enough for a warm summer day. A skirt, a cute top, comfortable shoes.

You replayed Art’s proposal. Dinner, he had said. You didn’t want dinner with him, that made it real, that felt like… too much of the past. Too close to something dating people would. You’d head over for his last game- you didn’t need to stay all day. It was nearing four o’clock when the next game was scheduled.

Above all, he was sorry. And he said he felt guilty and for a good while you convinced yourself he didn’t care and didn’t miss you or think about you at all- so hearing that he did unravelled a bit of your healing process. It’s not like it was an aching wound, but more like reopening a time capsule.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, putting your earrings in. This was a slippery slope, dinner would be the slipperiest, but you grabbed your bag and headed to the tournament.

You found a seat at the top, the last row.

You’d seen him play before a few years ago, but when he came onto the court today it was different. He had a new attitude and confidence and you could see it as the game started and he hit the ball with everything he had. And it was something you hated because it was hot and it shouldn’t have been. You had to look away a few times just to spare yourself but the sounds he made on the court reminded you of something and you hated it.

There was nothing you could do but tell him dinner was a no. And you were sorry. The game ended and he won, triumphantly, with a great cheer from the crowd that their hometown boy had won. You were somewhat proud of him- you never stopped, even after the breakup. He was doing well for himself. The crowd funnelled out after the game ended, but you stayed seated atop the metal bleachers that lined the court. And you contemplated how to be kind and apologetic in a way that told him you were better off not having dinner, whilst not giving away the fact that you were thinking about him in a way that scared you because it was an old, buried feeling. Without showing him that the apology meant hope. You were a strong, independent woman now and you could speak up and this just wasn’t a good idea. You were-

“Hey,” Art said. He stood down a few rows of the bleachers and waved. “I thought you wouldn’t show.”

“Me too,” you said. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky. “That was a good game. Congrats on the win.” You tried to be flat, but you were too genuine-sounding.

He chuckled, “Thanks. I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” you replied. His smile grew but you saw him fight it. “Look, Art-“

“No I know,” he cut you off. “Dinner feels too intimate. Do you just want to go grab frozen yogurt? It’s honestly all I’ve thought about today- is there still that 24/h place that we used to think was insane hours for frozen yogurt?”

You blinked a few times before the relief set in. And you smiled a full smile, not meaning to, but you did. “That sounds- yes. Yeah, it’s still there.” You grabbed your bag and got up from your seat.

I’ll be ten minutes just to shower and we’ll go- if that’s okay?” He smiled back. The weight of a real dinner was lifted. No spiel involved, though frozen yogurt distracted you from the fact there was still a code of yours to uphold and it was to keep from slipping. You nodded and he went to do so and you waited outside the court. He was out soon enough with his things and he walked over to a car that you assumed was his the way he loaded his things in. His hair was still wet from the shower and as he passed you, he smelled clean and… familiar. You hated that.

The conversation in the car was about the game and that was easy. You pointed out some things you saw from his opponent and things you noticed him do. He answered every question of yours. And then you were there.

“How did they stay open all this time?” He said, entering. You shushed him and he put his hands up in surrender.

“High quality and good tourism,” you replied, getting the flavour you wanted. “Did you miss it here?”

“Here or here as in town?” He asked.

“Home,” you answered. He got his flavour and walked to the toppings.

“I missed some things about it, yeah. Not many things, but a good few.” He stayed vague.

“I think I would like to miss it someday,” you told him. “I’ve been here too long.”

“Travel?”

“Saving up for a house,” you told him. “I’ll travel when I’m old, I think. When retirement money comes in and I don’t have kids to pay for.”

“I thought you didn’t want kids?” You both paused. You paused at the fact he remembered that and he paused at the fact he said an inside thought aloud.

You blinked hard a few times and put on a few toppings. “I’m- um- I’m not sure. I think I was young and inclined to the idea of being a working woman with no distractions and now I feel that… I’m older, so. I feel like maybe it’s not the best thing ever to have no distractions.”

He cleared his throat, “That’s fair.” Silence. The place was empty anyways. You brought your frozen yogurt to the scale and the price came up. Art walked over with his and pulled his debit card out. “My treat, remember?”

You did forget. He paid right then and there and then paid for his own and you thanked him but the silence still hung over you both even in the sound. In the car, you ate your frozen yogurt and the topic turned back to tennis and it was easy. Talking to him about passions was just like no time had passed at all- and it was interesting to hear the ins and the outs and the tells of tennis. But he stopped the car eventually, outside his hotel. You wondered if he was about to banish you home out of nowhere.

“I have to interrupt- I was wondering if you wanted to come up to my room for a bit, I feel like with the impending conversation maybe you’d want to be somewhere quiet and I wasn’t about to invite myself over.” Art said. You nodded. “You will?”

“I will,” you agreed, though you didn’t want to. It felt wrong, like a mistake, like the edge of a cliff and a slippery slope all at once. He smiled and got out of the car with his frozen yogurt. Your mind lingered on how considerate it was, despite the intimacy of being alone with nothing to see but him. “I appreciate that a lot though.”

“I know you like privacy,” he replied. You went up to the 14th floor, two down from the top and followed him down the hall. The room was standard. Large, but one bed, presumably a pull out couch, a chaise lounge, a small kitchen, a big bathroom and a tv. His things were all in one corner. You immediately took a seat on the chaise which was near the bench at the end of the bed that Art immediately sat on. It was a bit real. It was more than a bit, it was real.

He looked at you, blue eyes with their bits of brown and his long eyelashes. “I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” He started. He was jumping in. Your heart sped a little and you suddenly felt a pit in your stomach. “I was stupid. And naive and convinced that I would thrive more when I left for college.”

“You did,” you nodded. A nod to his success.

“But my intention was wrong. You… loved me. And I took advantage of that for the idea of a perfect college experience with Patrick- full of smoking and drinking and girls.” Your stomach flipped hearing his words. “I felt the guilt from the moment I left, I just shut it up with vodka and constant tennis and it was hard but it was manageable but it doesn’t mean I didn’t think of you.”

You kept your eyes locked with him and set your frozen yogurt on a nearby table. He took the time and did the same, but he looked at you for something. “You could have come back. Or called- even if you called-“ you cut yourself off. You were jumping too quickly. But it was Art and Art was easy to talk to. “When you left, I knew that. I knew what you wanted and I didn’t believe that you would truly let it go.”

“I didn’t,” he said.

“But there was no proof. To me, you left me for the ability to drink and kiss and fuck and it broke me because I was young and all I had to give was myself.” Your eyebrows knit closely together. He looked guilty. “And with no proof, I just… I was upset for a long time, but I slowly got over it.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know now,” you sighed. “Unfortunately it was hard to get you off my mind.”

“I tend to have that effect,” he smiled a little and so did you.

“Apparently so do I,” you countered. He grinned his perfect crooked smile. “But you hurt me. Badly. And I missed you for years but you didn’t even reach out on my birthdays so what could I think other than you’re out there succeeding and had put me in the past.”

“It’s why I’m here, or- why you’re here. I needed you to know that I thought about you all the time. It ruined my relationship with another girl because she knew I was hung up even when I didn’t. And when I found out the tournament was here, I just… I knew I had to see you. I had to face what I did. I know it was shitty, I know not speaking sucked, I just… I want you to know how sorry I am. And how much I wish I hadn’t left.” He looked genuine, his regret radiating off his skin. Your heart skipped a beat or two and your breathing picked up a little. “I wish I hadn’t left you, I traded you for something so fucking meaningless, it kills me.”

You had to stand your ground, because you knew the moment he said that- that all of your healing was coming undone. It unravelled and floated down to the floor, useless. You recognized the look on his face too well, you missed the look on his face. He wanted you. “I really-“ you started but stopped. The slope was icy, slick and smooth and at your very feet. One wrong move and you’d fall down it. And all of the healing, all of the time, all of it would have been for nothing and what would that mean? You had to have some sort of stance against this, some little bit of resistance. His voice was too soft, his eyes too sweet. “You should have told me that ages ago if it’s truly how you felt.” You said. You hated being dismissive this way. “I accept your apology.” But he didn’t look happy to hear that.

“I wanted to call, but I’d left things so badly I wasn’t sure if it would just reopen wounds or…” he had a desperation in his eyes.

You picked up your bag, your stomach doing flips and your heart beating at a crazy pace. You had to go. The slope was too slippery. “Art, I accept your apology. Thank you for the frozen yogurt and for the privacy and inviting me up here. I really should go, it’s getting late.” It was too easy to want to fall down that same slope, to tumble into him, to crash, to even burn. It was too tempting and you just… couldn’t do it. Couldn’t handle it. You stood up and walked toward the door and you felt him get up behind you.

“Wait, please?” He said. “Y/N, I have more to say.”

“I heard everything I wanted to hear four years ago,” you replied, turning before the hotel room door. “Unfortunately too late and I just feel… the same. You did trade me for the opportunity to have sex with girls shamelessly. Everything we had was just gone at the drop of a hat because you felt like it and you left me here to pick up the pieces and knowing you wanted to tell me all of these things since you left? While I waited by my phone every single night in case you called to change your mind, convincing myself day after day that you were just busy until I convinced myself that I was never worth anything to you- do you know how much that hurt? Having everything I ever wanted in a person who knew me like the back of their hand and being dropped for a college party era… I…”you huffed and he kept his eyes on you, listening, but eyes sad. “I convinced myself that it was all fake because what other explanation did I have? And it’s not like I could call to clarify, you left me. And it took forever to stop having nightmares about you and even when they were dreams they hurt. I missed you more than I missed anything and you showed no signs of regret or remorse or even missing me in the slightest. You broke my heart when you left, Art. And I’ve been better.”

There was silence in the room. It lasted a minute and a half. He seemed to be taking in every word you’d said. He cleared his throat eventually and he looked more upset than he had this whole time, “It kills me that I did that to you but every day was a constant battle. No girl out there was worth it- nothing was. But we were so far apart and- fuck I have only excuses but I know I did you wrong. And I know I hurt you and I can’t undo it but I can be here now and tell you that you look just as and even more beautiful than you did then. And even after not speaking for years I feel like we never stopped. And I have never stopped having feelings for you so seeing you last night in that bar just about took me all I had to not immediately pour my heart out in hopes that maybe you would forgive me enough to let me try again.”

Try again? Your hand rested on the door handle and you looked at him in disbelief. “Art, I can’t.” You said. He was standing in front of you, looking down at you, over you. His eyes were wet, you noticed, and he was breathing just about as hard as you were as your heart pounded in your chest.

“I can live without, I know we’re older and you might have moved on,” he said under his breath. “But I’ve never stopped wanting you and seeing you has made it so apparent. I can’t escape you, so even if you walk out that door right now nothing I’ve said will change.”

“You were everything, Art,” you told him, hushed. “But you hurt me and it would be wrong to go…” He swayed closer, over you, close to you. “-Back.” Your eyes met.

“I don’t care if it kills me. It almost did leaving you the first time but if…” he swayed near again. Your lips parted and your eyes stayed trained on his. “If you let me… I wouldn’t go anywhere. If I can promise you anything it’s that I know now that I need you.”

“You’ve gone years without,” you said, standing your ground. “You’ll manage.”

“I don’t know if I will,” he sighed, his blue eyes a dark shade of grey in the dim lamplight of the hotel room. His voice stayed low. “Not this time.”

“Why?”

“I told you why. It’s been a mistake, I’ve wasted years of my life just thinking and never acting and I need you to know I still want you. You stand here and you’re questioning it but you’re at my door and you haven’t left.”

“Maybe I want to hear you out,” you reasoned, it took all you had not to stutter and stumble over your words. Your hand gripped the door handle harder, knuckles whitening. “Thank you for your apology and for telling me how you felt.”

“Thank you for letting me,” he hushed to a whisper again. In his eyes, through the focus and lock on your own, you saw his hurt. You saw how genuine he was. But the silence was still and he was close to you, too close, but just close enough. Just about as close as you were to slipping. Down the slope… “Y/N…” he trailed off.

“You missed me? You missed me…”

“Every day.” He confirmed, the gap between growing smaller every second. “And I’ll never stop being sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. You don’t have to say anything for sure, but I want to try. If you’ll let me. I would do anything to not have to miss you like this. I promise you.” His nose grazed yours, that’s how close he was. You looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Art…” you sighed.

“Yeah?” He looked into your soul the way his eyes kept hold on yours. He wanted to smile, you could tell.

“I’m not sure.”

“I know. That’s completely fair-“

You cut him off, “I don’t know.

“I know.” He replied. “I know what I can give can match what you gave me. I want to give you everything I couldn’t, I-“

“I know,” you echoed.

“Please,” He said, the way he looked at you was so soft. His eyebrows were knit in the centre, he was pleading with only one word.

“How do I know?”

“You don’t. But you can take my word.”

“What good is your word? You said you would stay and you didn’t, you said you loved me but you were gone a week later, you swore it was us.”

He looked exasperated, “I was young. And stupid. So stupid.”

“Very,”

“I know.” He echoed again. “And I’ve known. And everything has lead me back here.”

“How do I know you won’t leave for tennis again?”

“Nothing could take me away this time,” he said, voice still hushed. You were fighting a hard fight.

“You can’t promise that,” you retorted.

“Who can?” His voice echoed around your head. Who can promise to stay? Indefinitely? Eventually someone dies nobody can ever stay forever. There will always be an eventual absence. Your heart pounded in your chest, racing, pumping hard enough you could hear it. He looked at you with perfectly parted lips and eyes that just pleaded and an expression you missed for ages. Eyes locked on eyes, trained, centred. And closeness you craved for years. You were fucked, done for.

You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into you. Though it wasn’t a kiss. It was the tightest embrace you could muster as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hands grasping at your sides, his other hand flat on your back, holding you close and your hands around his neck, tight. You missed this more than kissing him, you missed this more than most things. Younger you missed everything, but most, she just wanted to be held again. You thought about it for years. And his grip on you didn’t waiver one bit for the time you kept your embrace. He kept you flush against him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And he kept you that way for a long while. He didn’t want to let go, neither did you. But eventually, slowly, you both pulled away. The heat of the moment was gone and the apology was over and your heart still beat a little bit too quick. And he still wasn’t far. The silence was loud, but comfortable now.

“Can we try again?” He whispered. Plain and simple. He wasn’t asking for a promise- nobody could ever promise anything. Even you couldn’t promise. But it was him and even after years had gone by, it was always going to be him anyways. So why not?

You nodded.

[kamotecue]

what led to getting ice cream ∞ j. fleming

summary: what happens when your youth teammate had invited you to a party?

part (1)

a year has passed since the first encounter with the freckled canadian, the one you found a bit intriguing. maybe it was her shyness, how reserved the midfielder was - or how she was the complete opposite of you. you were everything she wasn’t, spontaneous, easy-going, affectionate while jessie was media-shy, restrained and calm.

you knew sooner or later, you’d cross paths with her - you just didn’t expect it to be at a collegiate party. mallory pugh, a national teammate you had gotten along with during camps, especially the youth levels, had invited you to a frat party. tierna, despite her being a year older she decided to accompany you. 

tierna had checked her phone, wondering if it was the correct address which it was - she gestured for you to go first and you did. the moment you opened the door to the frat house, all you smelled was booze, sex and drugs.

“in a few hours, meet me back here and try not to drink from any red cups, or cups that strangers give you. i don’t think the team will be happy when they find out.” tierna stated, as you gave her a curt nod. you didn’t even like the idea of drinking or using.

as she disappeared from your view, you made your way through the crowd. you were clad in a stanford hoodie, a casual gray jogger, and a pair of typical running shoes. the backyard was vacant, you hummed before taking a spot near the entrance. 

playing with the pocket watch your mother had given you - it claimed to be your father’s - “the one you never met”. there was this part of you that hated him.

but looking away from your watch, your eyes followed the sound of noise - the slide door to the backyard had opened. an amusing look was on your face when you realized who it was.

“fleming, what a surprise to see you here.” your voice rang out, catching her by surprise, in doing so the freckled girl had misplaced her step, causing her to fall.

a small oof was heard, as you frantically shot up, holding your hand out for her to grab. the midfielder did, as you pulled her up.

“i should be saying that to you, l/n. you took a 5 hour drive, just for what, a frat party?” fleming’s voice was soft as you chuckled at her words.

“mallory had invited me, but tierna she’s - somewhere in the house.” you softly replied, as jessie hummed at your words.

“pugh? she’s been your teammate since the youth levels, right?” jessie had asked, as you nodded. the colorado player was someone you’ve gotten along with - it was like a low maintenance friendship, you didn’t have to talk all the time.

after that question, the air was filled with silence - the two of you had been enjoying each other’s presence.

“say, this party might not be your cup of tea - but would you perhaps want to ditch, and get ice cream?” you had asked, humbly waiting for the canadian’s response to which she nodded to. you had gotten up first, holding out your hand waiting for the canadian to grab - in which she did. you had led her through the crowd, the intertwined hands - the feeling that you never wanted to let go.

when the two of you had arrived outside, you turned around to check if she was alright, to which she was - however, her eyes were set on the interlocked fingers. shying away, you abruptly let go of her hand.

“since you’ve been studying here, baby canada lead the way.” a small hum was heard, catching your attention.

“baby canada?” the canadian had asked, as you paused in your tracks - did she not know of the nickname the fans had given her?

“well, since you made your debut for the senior team quite young, you had achieved the nickname baby canada.” the walk to the ice cream parlor was filled with random stories you had talked about - solely football related.

“you know, you’re basically eating toothpaste, right?” you looked at her bewildered, at the fact she called mint chocolate chip ice cream - toothpaste.

“it is not.”

“it is.”

“is not”

“whatever floats your boat, l/n.” she softly chuckled, and you swore - it made your heart skip a beat. the walk back to the house was filled with silence, the two of you were simply enjoying each other’s presence. 

you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, as you quickly fished it out. it was a call from tierna, you looked to jessie as she nodded, giving her an apologetic smile - you swiped the green button.

“where are you?”

“i’m out with a friend, we had just gotten ice cream.”

“well, i believe we have to go now, y/n. the drive back to uni will take long.”

“alright, i’ll meet you in front of the house in a few minutes”

“don’t take too long, or else the others will have my head.” tierna teased, as you chuckled at her words. the call had ended, as you turned to jessie, her eyes were set on the moon - it was pretty.

“it’s pretty, isn’t it?” you had asked her, you weren’t looking at the moon - instead you were watching her, admire the moon.

“that’s true.”

[sweetbans29]

Greece - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You go on a holiday to Greece with CC and the girls - Based on THIS request

Warnings: none, just some fluff for ya

Word Count: 2.8k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Hi all! Here is a cute one for you!

It was summer break and you and some of the girls from the team decided it would be super fun to go on a vacation somewhere. You all got together to choose where you wanted to go. Jada had the great idea to do that trend of everyone putting a place into a hat and each person would draw at random until there was only one left.

You and Cait had talked endlessly about where you two thought would be fun. Caitlin knew where she wanted to go and was incredibly hopeful about her choice. Meanwhile, you were naming off every place under the sun.

When you both got to Jada's apartment to figure out where you all were headed, Caitlin couldn't contain her excitement. There was a group of 8 of you going which meant that eight locations were going into a hat to be chosen from.

You all sat around her living room and took turns writing down where you wanted to go. You looked over at your girl and saw her writing 'Greece' on her piece of paper. You smile, thinking about all the times she has talked about vacationing off the coast of Santorini.

Caitlin had wanted to go to Greece ever since she was a little girl. There was something about it that just seemed so enticing to her. Ever since you started talking to Caitlin you heard her talking about wanting to go to Greece. Any time you talked about going somewhere together, it always came up in the conversation. It was quite cute.

She put her paper in the bowl on the table. You looked down at your piece of paper and pondered the list of places you were thinking about. Nothing seemed as great as seeing your girl live out the vacation of her dreams. So you secretly write down 'Greece' and place it in the bowl on the table.

After everyone sticks their paper in the bowl, you all take turns pulling out pieces seeing where you will not be going.

As the bowl goes around the room, you hear 'Spain', 'Australia', and 'Japan'. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Caitlin's knee bouncing with anticipation.

'Amsterdam' is read next followed by 'Canada' and 'Thailand'.

It was your turn to pick a place and you already knew how this was going to play out. You pull out a paper and look at it. Caitlin's eyes are intensely staring at you. You give her an apologetic look and show everyone the paper that reads 'Greece' in Caitlin's handwriting.

"Greece," you say as you lean over to kiss Caitlin's temple. Her disappointment doesn't hide well. She tries to compose herself because she is the one who is saying where they are going to be going on vacation.

Little does she know, that her disappointment isn't going to last long. You pass her the bowl knowing that the last piece of paper remaining is yours. And you know you would do anything to bring joy to Caitlin.

You rub her arm as she grabs the remaining piece of paper. You try to hide your smile but are failing. She grabs the piece of paper.

"We are going to..." she begins as she unfolds the paper. A scream escapes your girlfriend and she jumps up on the couch.

"WE ARE GOING TO GREECE!!!" She exclaims as she jumps on the couch like a little girl.

You are so caught up in how Caitlin is reacting that you don't hear that some of the girls are excited and the others say it's not fair that you two can vote the same.

Caitlin jumps into your arms, wrapping her legs around your waist and repeatedly mumbles thank you in your ear. This reaction alone was worth writing down Greece, you can't wait to see what being there with her will be like...

*2 months later*

The time has come and your girl's trip has arrived! Speaking of arrival, your plane just landed in Athens, and are now in a cab on your way to the Airbnb you rented.

Everyone is so excited to be there, especially Cait. It is all she has been able to talk about for the last two months - so much so that you have had to threaten her to get her to stop talking about it. Now that you are actually here, all the work put into planning this trip is paid off.

As the cab pulls up the Airbnb, you all take in how beautiful it is. You all decided to splurge and get a 5-bedroom villa that overlooked the city. It was unanimous when it came to finding a spot - since it was your big trip for the summer, it was worth every penny.

You all run into the villa and being freaking out over how stunning it is. Everyone running and excited about a different thing - Kylie ran to the balcony, Sydney ran to the infinity pool, Jada and Hannah ran to the bedroom with the biggest mirror (those girls and their Tiktok dances), Kate ran to the courtyard that housed a beautiful outdoor patio set, Gabby and Caitlin ran to the living room that was practically a movie theater and you of course ended up in the kitchen.

If there is one thing you love to do, it's cook. Making and serving food is your love language - at least how you express love. When looking at places you were 100% biased to this place because of the kitchen. It housed a beautiful island that had a 4-burner stovetop attached on top of the 6-burner over stove tucked along the wall. Two sinks - one of which was on the island for convenience. A walk-in pantry that was already stashed with all the spices and staples you could ever need. On top of it all, it had one of those foot vacuums where if you dropped anything on the floor, you could push it over to the opening and press a button for it to get sucked up, never to be seen or stepped on again.

As you are falling in love with the kitchen, you feel a pair of familiar arms come and wrap around your torso. Your arms come to rest on top of your girl as you lean back into her. Her head comes to rest on your shoulder and she squeezes you even more.

"I know we just got here but this is the best trip I have ever been on," she says as she turns you to face her. You rest your backside on the island and admire your beautiful girlfriend.

"I am glad you are happy with our choice of summer vacation," you say teasing her.

She pokes at your stomach, which results in a laugh from you.

"Ya, well, I have a pretty amazing girl who would do anything to make me happy," Caitlin says genuinely as she takes hold of your hand. You decide to poke at her some more.

"Well I don't know about anything to make you happy," you say, exaggerating the 'anything'. When she looks down at you, you give her a smile and a peck before grabbing your bags and heading to find the room you will be staying in with Cait.

"I already put my stuff in our room, let me show you where it is," she says as she leads you down a hallway that leads to a whole other wing of the villa. It is like its own separate house within the villa. When you arrive, you notice it is the only room on this side of the Airbnb.

"I chose this room intentionally," Caitlin says. "It is the only room on this side of the villa - completely separate from everyone else." She gives you a suggestive look as she begins to approach you. Right as you wrap your arms around your girlfriend's neck you hear the phone ring.

You both look to see a landline on the bedside table. You pick it up and say 'hello'.

"Hey! You two lovebirds need to come back to the main house - we are going out to explore," Gabby says and the other girls are yelling at you two to hurry up.

"Okay okay we are on our way," you say as you motion for Caitlin to change into lighter clothes. You hang up the phone and begin to change yourself.

Once again, you feel Caitlin's arms wrap around you.

"It's a good thing they won't be near us tonight - because I have some ideas on how I want to say thank you to you and I know you have trouble staying quiet," she says as she kisses your neck.

"Why don't we just stay here and start now," you say as your eyes close and your head leans back into her shoulder.

"As tempting as that sounds, we are burning daylight baby!" She says as she completely removes herself from you, earning a groan.

"Tease," you mumble as you finish changing out of your travel clothes.

The first few days are spent exploring Athens. Going to see different historic sites and museums. The place is beautiful and the food is delicious. Everyone is having the time of their lives, Caitlin especially as you all explore a new city.

The next morning you and a few girls head to a local market. You plan on making dinner that night for everyone. As you are walking around, you buy everything you will need and more. You are overwhelmed with everything they have and have an absolute blast. Jada and Kate are with you and get flowers and other small things that will liven up your stay.

When you get back, you start some of the prep while everyone else is lounging or doing their own thing. Caitlin is sitting on the counter watching you do your thing in the kitchen. Watching you cook is one of her favorite things. She could sit and watch you all day - it’s when you are in your element.

Every now and again you would bounce over to her to give her a little kiss or to squeeze between her legs to be held by her. Being held by your girl makes you melt every time.

Once everything is all done, Cait rounds the girls and everyone meets at the patio table. You come out bringing the last dish. Family dinners are where you feel most at home (the only exception being Cait). Everyone sits and feasts and life is good.

The next few days are for sightseeing. Everyone heads out to different museums and places that hold Greek culture. Some things are done together while others you all break off into small groups, you never leaving Caitlin’s side. It didn’t matter what you were doing, doing it with Caitlin was better than doing any of it without her.

You are all back at the Airbnb enjoying the amenities that are there. Everyone is out by the pool, some in it and some sitting next to it. You are reading a book when you feel a sudden cold reach your legs. You tilt your book to the side to see nothing out of the ordinary - no one is looking at you or acknowledging the fact you made any movement. Going back to reading, you pass it off as a phantom splash until it happens again.

You immediately sit up and look around to find Caitlin in the pool trying to conceal a giggle. A smile forms as you get up from your chair and make your way to sit next to where she is. You sit poolside and dangle your feet in the water.

“Why don’t you come all the way in,” Caitlin says. “We can race!” It was cute how she was playing in the pool like a little kid. Seeing her here in Greece has you believing that this trip is healing a part of her inner child and it makes your heart swell.

“Maybe in a little babe, I’m about to go in to make everyone lunch,” you say reaching over to take some of her wet hair into your hand and combing your fingers through it.

She moves to position herself in between your thighs, leaning her arms on them, and looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. “Please please please,” she begs.

You lean down and kiss her on the top of her head.

“Maybe a little later love,” you tell her. “Actually you should probably get out of the pool and do some packing.” You tell her.

“Pack? Why? We have another 4 days here, I have plenty of time to pack babe,” she says, slightly offended you suggested leaving this wonderful place so soon.

“Not pack to go home, pack to go on a little adventure,” you say with a little smile. She immediately perks up.

“Wait, what?” She says as she tries to get your attention back. You were not leaning back and looking up at the sky. She starts tapping on your thigh and splashing you with water.

“Hey! Don’t splash, I need to make lunch,” you give her a look.

“What do you mean adventure?” She says. She is too cute.

“Well, I thought it would be fun if we broke away from the group for a couple days and headed over to Santorini,” you say with a smile.

“We’re going to Santorini???” She exclaims, jumping up and down in the pool.

“Ya babe, we weren’t going to come to Greece and not go to Santorini,” you say with a laugh.

She gets overly excited and grabs your arms, pulling you into the pool. She wraps herself around you as you instinctively wrap your arms around her. You try to act mad that you literally just told her you didn’t want to get wet because you were going to head in and make food but you can’t keep a straight face when you see how excited she is. There isn’t much you wouldn’t do for this girl.

“Ok now go pack. We leave tonight and you need to be ready,” you say and you pull yourself out of the pool and grab a towel.

You make everyone lunch and make sure Caitlin packs. Before you know it, the two of you are on a plane heading to the beautiful island of Santorini. The second you knew you were all going to Greece, you started booking this little side quest to Santorini. It was fun to be able to get some of the girls' help as you wanted to keep it secret from Cait until you were there. They helped get some details out of her about things she would want to see and do without it coming straight from you.

The two of you have a small little Airbnb that is right in the middle of the classic white hillside. As you are settling in, you tell Caitlin what your next few days look like. The hikes you have planned and the markets she has mentioned to Gabby. Places to eat and you even have a nice little boat ride planned. She is over the moon with all you have managed to plan without her knowing.

The two of you have the time of your lives exploring Santorini. This was literally her dream - to be here. And being here with you was the cherry on top. She has no idea how she could ever thank you for all of this.

It’s your last night in Santorini before you head back to be with the group. You have planned a nice little candlelight dinner overlooking the coast. As the two of you sit there and just take in each other’s presence and the scene around you, you take hold of her hand.

“I hope this has been everything you dreamed it to be,” you say to her as you grab your glass of wine. She gives your hand a squeeze and just looks at you.

“What?” You say beginning to squirm under her eyes.

“You are the most beautiful human being I know,” she begins. “Not just physically, but your heart is so big and full of love for others and the world. I truly cannot believe you have chosen me to love. You are the best thing that has happened to me and I am the luckiest girl in the world to call you mine.” As she finishes, there is a little twinkle in her eye from the moon hitting the tears that have begun to form.

You don’t say anything. Nothing you say could even begin to describe your love for the girl sitting in front of you. So instead you stand, her hand still in hers. You guide her to a little spot near the edge of the patio where you were having dinner and pull her close to you. Your hand free hand coming to her waist, hers coming to your shoulder. You begin to slowly dance in the moonlight, soaking up this moment.

A moment you would never dream of forgetting.

AN: This was a fun one to write! I hope you all enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[504py]

Its me again (i hope you don't mind i am in you ask again 😅)

So uh do you have headcanon for yandere russia and canada with their s/o?

Thx 🌻

holy SHIT i got carried away 😭😭😭 this was supposed to be a short post, but i got too deep into their characterization. and don't worry!! i appreciate your asks! anyways, here we go guys... please heed the warnings!

Yandere Russia and Yandere Canada Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, domestic violence, implied NSFW, self-harm, manipulation, forced feminization, dubious consent, stalking, long post ahead!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

Russia

How the relationship started

Your relationship with Ivan first started with you doing some mundane thing, but he was there at the right place and the right time, and something about you intrigued him. Be it at a restaurant eating a strange food combination, seeing you early in the morning with your hair wet and rushing to get somewhere, or even getting a glimpse of your mismatched socks when you walked past him and didn't even pay him any mind. That was enough to seal your fate as his property. His mind can't seem to stop running with thoughts of you, how are you, why are you, and he needs to scratch that itch.

Ivan sends out a private investigator to stalk you basically, and provide him with your daily schedule. Once Ivan has your schedule, he dismisses the investigator, and takes matters into his own hands by stalking you himself, and trying to insert himself into your daily life.

Then, it was just a matter of getting to know you, courting you with expensive gifts and dates, then fully dooming yourself when you accepted him as your boyfriend.

Expectations

Ivan is very blunt with what he wants. Not very long into your relationship, around a month or so, he asks you to move in with him. Any sort of opposition or protest will be stonewalled by this; "We will be married and living together someday anyways. Why fight it? Don't you love me?"

So, whether you like it or not, you move in with him in his giant, lonely house.

There are no maids and none of the Baltic states to be seen, and this is because Ivan expects you to fulfill the role of a housewife, regardless of your gender. So he'd like for you to do chores yourself and to clean up around the house while he's gone. He doesn't expect perfection from your cleaning, in fact, he finds it a little charming when some areas aren't clean or spotless. His house was huge and you were only so small.

On the topic of fulfilling the role of his housewife, he expects you to do other things that make you fit the role even more, such as giving him affection, cooking for him, and keeping up a good front when guests are around. He wants the two of you to evoke the image of a traditional married couple so badly, and if you fail to meet those requirements...

Punishments

Ivan can be cruel. He doesn't tolerate rebellion very well, and his punishments are always physical.

He is a very touchy man, and if you fail to reciprocate his touch, or actively shy away from it, he'll only get more aggressive. His hugs will feel more suffocating, his grip on your jaw while he kisses you will feel bruising, and you swear, it feels like he's trying to crush your hand while he holds it, despite the sweet smile on his face..

If you continue to refuse him, he'll be much less subtle with his harm. One day, when you try to shove him away from you, his grip on your arm tightens to the point it feels like he might just snap it, and he pulls you close to whisper a threat into your ear; "Will you continue to be like this?"

If you say no and apologize, which would be your best option, he'll let out a strained breath and try to relax his clenched jaw, before letting up his grip on your arm and muttering an apology under his breath himself.

If you say yes... His jaw will tense up, and the look he gives you is bone-chilling. "Alright." He says, and doesn't give you much time to think before he drags you to the front door, and throws you out into the harsh cold, with only the clothes on your back.

You can cry and scream apologies and bang on the door all you want, but he's already walked away and drinking a bit of vodka to soothe his own nerves.

He'll keep you outside till you are on the brink of getting mild hypothermia. He waits there, thinking of how long it'd take for the cold to get to someone of your size and shape. He knows everything about snow, and he knows everything about you.

Right before you start to ebb in and out of consciousness, he opens the door, and drags you back inside, wiping the snow off of you and taking your weak, shivering body in his arms.

You cling to him, wanting to live in his house, his coat, and in his arms forever after experiencing the unforgiving hellscape that is the Russian winter.

Ivan mutters sweet nothings, the alcohol in his breath and the powdery smell of his clothing enveloping all your senses. He says that he wouldn't have to do this if you would've just obeyed him, that this is all your fault, and that he didn't want to do this and that he just loves you too much.

If you had any sense of self-preservation, you'll listen to him from now on, and if not... He wouldn't be above breaking a few bones. But you won't disobey him again, right? It's for your own good.

"I'm sorry, моя любовь.."

Rewards

Ivan is a very affectionate man, but he isn't the best at showing it vocally. He shows it in the lavish gifts and dates he goes on with you— Yes, he takes you out on dates. Only for special events or when he's feeling particularly affectionate, but he does it too because he feels he also has a role to fulfill as a doting, providing husband. He'd feel too bad if he just kept you locked up your whole life as his wife (and, also, he wants to test you.. He wants to see if you'll act up in public, and to see if he can trust you). Ivan feels it adds to the aesthetic of a married couple, too.

Besides that, he is INCREDIBLY physically affectionate. He has no sense of personal space at all, which may or may not be a bad thing to you, but regardless, what you think doesn't really matter, and he'll continue to invade it anyways.

He always calls you over to sit on his lap, he sleeps way too close to you, and he's always looming over your shoulder no matter where and what you're doing. As long as he's home, it's GUARANTEED he will be touching you in some way, shape or form.

Because of such things, Ivan is.. prone to getting intimate with you.

Unlike everything else, he actually sort of values your consent when it comes to the bedroom. Yes, he will make advances and be very touchy-feely, and maybe intimidate you a bit, but at the end of the day, if you keep refusing it, he'll let up, but his mood will noticeably be more tense.

Ivan is especially prone to this because clothing is one of his favorite things to gift you, he enjoys dressing you up in things he finds cute. And I mean literally. Whatever he buys for you, be it dresses, coats, or underwear, Ivan will want to be there to undress you and then dress you up in the things he bought himself. You're like his own cute little doll.

Regardless of your gender, Ivan will buy you feminine clothing and accessories. He may even be inclined to forcing you to grow out your hair.

He likes sniffing you. He rests his nose atop your scalp while hugging you, just to breathe in your scent. It calms him like nothing else in the world, and he feels alive again.

And during not-so-often times like these, he'll speak and voice his affections.

"I love you.. We are going to have a great life together."

࿐°*˖✧┊͙✧˖*°࿐

Canada

How the relationship started

Matthew would be completely enamored by you just.. noticing him on a regular basis. Nodding your head at him whenever you two walked by each other in the hallway, mumbling a hello whenever you two sat next to each other, and the mere act of your eyes meeting his. Fully looking at him, and not just straight through him. It always left him red and unable to calm his heart for the rest of the day, so it was only natural he'd fall head over heels for you.

His crush on you kept festering day by day, with him being too shy to continue the little interactions you have, and having such little experience with socializing that he wouldn't even know how to continue furthering this "relationship."

Matthew is rather delusional. He spends his days fantasizing about talking to you, hanging out with you, being with you romantically, and, more often than he'd like to admit, rather impure things... all while you're seated next to him, or while you're across from him, a heady stare through his foggy glasses.

Eventually, Matthew starts to believe that you two were already in a romantic relationship, despite being acquaintances at best, and he starts to get really insecure. What if you forget about him someday? What if you stop noticing him, and you just disappear from his life? He believes that other people you notice, any other person you notice, will jeopardize that oh so special relationship you and Matthew clearly have.

So, Matthew bites the bullet, and asks you out for lunch one day. You smiled and blushed at him so brightly as you accepted, and at that moment, he knew he'd dedicate everything he had in his life to worshipping you.

Expectations

Matthew still puts in an effort to appear like a normal boyfriend, unlike Ivan, so your relationship with him would progress much more naturally.

That doesn't mean he hasn't been doing anything weird, though.

Matthew's already been envisioning what it'd be like to have a family and grow old with you the first moment he heard your voice. All you said was, "Good morning." So what more now that you two are in a real, established, romantic relationship?

He fantasizes constantly about clinging to you like a lifeline and crying about how much he loves you, and to hear you feel the same way he does. He wants to pin you beneath him, letting him do all the work, and showing you just how much he loves you, while whispering praises and prayers to you with a crazed, devoted look in his violet eyes.

You two have only been together for three weeks.

...If it wasn't apparent, all he wants is for you to always, always be by his side.

He doesn't care much for appearances or services like Ivan does. If anything, Matthew wants to be the one to do nice things for you, though he would like it too if you did nice stuff for him once in a while. Though, just kissing him on the cheek is enough to keep him overjoyed for like a week straight.

He spends a lot of time doting on you and trying to prolong the time you guys have together for as much as he can. Honestly, for the most part, Matthew would play the role of a normal boyfriend rather well, and your relationship wouldn't be really turbulent, except for, well...

Punishments

Matthew hates it when you have to go. Usually, he very reluctantly drives you back home after a bit of a fight, but he's just so pitiful you could never find it in yourself to be mad at him. I think he'd be the type to cry whenever you two had any sort of disagreement.

When he's lucky, he can get you to stay the night, which absolutely sends him on cloud nine, but it's not often enough for his liking...

Things would boil over, though, when you had to leave earlier than usual because you had to go to do something, like hang out with a friend, visit your mother, anything of the sort, and Matthew gets really upset.

He starts this whole thing of begging you to stay, that "Aren't I more important than them? Please don't leave." and he's tearing up, his shaky fingers holding onto your sleeve.

"Matthew, please, just for tonight."

"I-I don't want you to go, though."

Then he's crying. Harder than he usually does, and he's looking at you like a kicked puppy.

How could you still go after seeing him like that?

Matthew then learns that he can win you over with his tears. If he just cries for you, you'll stay, won't you?

He'd never lay his hands on you, but he'd constantly guilt-trip you and manipulate you for things to go in his favor.

Violence is something he'd see as a last resort, but it's still something he'd use against everyone else and himself, but never you. He hates to hurt others, but if they get in the way of him and you, he'll do it. I feel like people forget that, while nowhere as strong as Alfred is, Matthew is still a pretty strong guy. He wouldn't ever kill anyone, but he'd severely hurt them, and he'd be hiding his face the whole time.

And yes, he'd hurt himself for you. Those crocodile tears are bound to stop working on you someday, and when that time comes, he'll harm himself and say that he'll just keep hurting himself if you aren't with him.

Then you'll just have to run back to him, tend to his wounds, and reassure him that you still love him and that you'll stay.

...But if you keep trying to run, he'll have to just lock you up so you won't look at anyone else ever again.

Rewards

Matthew is affectionate in every sense, though he tends to show it through the way he wants to do anything and everything with you.

He's always holding onto your hands, massaging little circles into it, getting your favorite snacks when he does his groceries, drying your hair after showers, arranging dates and cooking and cleaning for you as much as he can. He's naturally very doting.

He does his best for you, he really does.

Besides acts of service, Matthew just likes to spend time with you. Lazing around with you on the couch, playing with your hair, and gazing right into your eyes like you were heaven-sent. He always has the most lovestruck expression on his face whenever he's with you.

"...You're the only one for me, you know that?" He mumbles, almost as if he doesn't know he's even talking.

And he says this next line with such devotion dripping from his voice that it makes your blood run a little cold.

"...I love you so much. Never leave me.."

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

(....guys was that decent. anyways! all art used is mine so if you're reading this, go give the original posts some love on my blog!)

[yawujin]

bwaaaah hetalia allies with s/o who's a virgin /// or, nsfw for their first time OUUUGGH!! also, what's ur limit for how many characters u write? I'd ask for both allies n axis but don't wanna bombard that many on u !! ^^

don't worry about that, i got youu ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) enjoy!! 🤍

hetalia allies & axis | first time 💭 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

type | nsfw , smut , they/them pronouns used , established relationship , light hearted , first time trope

allies ♥︎

america/alfred f. jones

he's really excited and is prone to getting carried away.

it will take direct communication from his s/o to get him to calm down and take things slow. he can respect that, so he does.

he's making sure to be careful in everything he does, tracking his pace so he goes slow enough to not overwhelm them but fast enough to not bore them

he really really wants their approval...so he's doing the best he can (he wants that sweet praise after all is said and done)

england/arthur kirkland

he's like really anxious so if they're able to help him through that, that would be really great

he just has this fear that he'll hurt them so he is really gentle, it's an expectation that he's aware of so he just automatically does it

he's very encouraging and accepting towards mostly anything his s/o does during sex. he's the type to urge them to let it all out if they want to moan but are holding back. he also really wants them to grab onto anything of his, really. but only if they want to

he'll want to hurry and get them cleaned up as soon as they both finish, so they don't have to feel uncomfortable...especially after their first time

france/francis bonnefoy

he makes it very sweet, very loving, and makes sure that they feel comfortable before they even begin.

he'll give them words of affirmation, and letting them know they're free to back out at anytime. "if you want a break, just say the word and we'll have a break." france kisses their cheek

he's very vocal, complimenting them on their expressions, sounds and on their figure.

afterwards, he'll want to lie down and hold them. he'll tell them just how much he appreciates them and say what his favorite parts were. he'll ask them what theirs were, too.

canada/matthieu williams

he's shy but not anxious. being gentle is in his dna, so it comes to him automatically

"i never want you to feel uncomfortable..." he says. his voice is soft and sweet.

he's the type to guide them through it, putting his hand on theirs and placing it somewhere on his body. it's especially helpful if they're the type to not know where to touch.

i feel like he'd want to kiss them a lot, but he understands if they don't want to or get overwhelmed.

russia/ivan braginsky

first of all, he puts in effort to not look scary because he knows he can be intimidating

and since sex can be intimidating to some, he really tries to get them to have fun with it

he tries to do the same, and not take himself too seriously

he saves the sweet talk for after they both finish. for now, he wants to savor the moment with them and moan into their ear, watching how they react to all of it, all of him. he likes the fact that it's brand new to them, but he'll like it even more if he can please them...so he focuses on that.

china/yao wang

he's very well versed in helping people feel relaxed, especially during a moment that can be so overwhelming for some.

of course , it helps that he's experienced, too. that way he can reassure them and promise that he's going to make his s/o feel great

he's already prepared the essentials (i'll leave it up to the readers to guess what those are winkk)

he knows already that he's going to need to take things easy at first. it's really fortunate that he's good at tracking his pacing, and reading expressions. he keeps asking them if they feel alright, and if it's okay for him to continue. if they consent, he'll give them a quick kiss on the forehead before going back to what he was doing.

axis ♥︎

north italy/feliciano vargas

he's all smiles. he's just happy that he gets to be their first.

he's excited!! but he respects them completely, so he asks what exactly they want to happen.

italy is here to fufill their wishes. and that he does.

he can't help but hold them tightly in the heat of the moment, going in for a quick collection of kisses before pulling away for some air. he's getting desperate but he asks for permission before doing anything else.

germany/ludwig beilschmidt

he's nervous ngl but he knows what to do so he approaches this *situation* practically

he prolongs the foreplay just so he can give them a taste of what's to come also so he can get an idea of what they might like or dislike

he overthinks a lot of what people say and what their body language is so he takes that into account before they begin

he's the one to ask: "can i do this?" "is this okay with you?" before going any further. if they didn't know any better they'd think it's his first time with the hesistant way he goes about this (it's kind of sweet, since he's usually so direct)

japan/kiku honda

he's very sweet towards them, now more than ever

he says it's okay if they're nervous, but he really wants to know how they want to go about this

he urges them to talk about exactly what they want, so he can give it to them just as they prefer

he delivers; making them feel cared for from the very moment they start making out to the final moments where he's looking at them, even if they're too shy to maintain eye contact

prussia/gilbert beilschmidt

similar to his brother germany, prussia is direct and he uses this as a guide for them

he gently asks them if they can do a certain thing, letting them ease into it and letting them take the lead without so much pressure. he reminds them they can say no if he unknowingly asks too much of them

he does this because he'd rather not risk coming on too strong (he doesn't want to let his eccentricity get the better of him and overwhelm or scare his s/o ☹️)

he's happy with whatever they want to do and gives them a little bit of praise to encourage them further

south italy/lovino vargas

he tones down his usual blunt and outspoken demeanor just for them, reminding them that it's okay not to take themselves so seriously

he uses touch as a way to soothe their nerves, constantly holding any, and every part of them in one way or another

he goes ahead with touching them in the typical ways most people like, but tells them that they should let him know if they don't like something right away

as he gets accquainted with everything they do like though, he'll tell his s/o how amazing they feel, on almost every part of their body.

[cutestbow]

Summary: y/n has to tell Jack the truth, (based off of the song futile devices)

Notes: I’m finally back!!, also very unedited so please excuse any mistakes!!

Warnings: self hatred, guilt, basically leading someone on. And that should be it if not let me know!!!

It’s been a long long time since I’ve memorized your face.

Laughter echoed throughout the dimly lit apartment i had been in for the last 4 hours, i had told myself id go home twenty minutes ago but that never ends well when im with my friends

“So y/n? hows jack going?” my friend asked, the question gaining attention from the others as if they had been wondering also.

“Oh it’s going well, he’s a really good guy.” I shrugged smiling at the thought of the brown haired boy.

“Thats it? You’re not going to give us any special details about him?” She groaned to my vague response.

“Yeah, like he doesn’t have a beauty mark on his left cheek-“ another one had chimed in

“No, his upper right lip!” I blurted out embarrassingly fast.

All chatter had stopped in that moment, the only noise being the tv that had been faintly playing in the background.

My face burned red from my sudden comment, if my friend no cited she hadn’t said anything about, she just smirked and took a drink from the glass that had been sitting in front of her.

“Well at least Christian’s out of the picture.” She stated once more before diving into conversation with one of the girls sat at the table.

I nodded but it didn’t feel right almost as if it weren’t genuine.

It’s been four hours now since I’ve wandered through your place.

Jack had left his apartment hours ago but i still remained after hours of him begging i stay and just watch the game from his house, so that’s where i had been left at now

Walking through the halls of his somewhat clean apartment, for someone who lives by themselves he really did try to keep some type of theme going.

I laughed at a photo he had kept near his bed of him and his brother when they were younger, it was a photo of when they lived in Canada the setting being somewhere snowy and the three brothers looking confused and unready for the photo.

I sat the photo back down and looked over at the clock that had also been on the side of his bed, i sighed walking out of the room and back to the couch to watch the puck drop.

And when i sleep on your couch i feel very safe, and when you bring the blankets, I cover up my face.

It was normal for me and jack to have our annual movie nights on friday, and work had kicked my butt the following week and I hadn’t planned on going this Friday but i knew jack had been looking forwards to it stating that he found a new movie that we might like so I couldn’t decline.

We had been laying on the couch, my head on his shoulder and eyes slowing opening and closing once and a while, i quickly snapped out of that stare once the arms that had once been wrapped around me were gone.

“Where are you going?” I asked as jack got up from his spot on the couch.

He didnt reply and disappeared into his bedroom, i had went to get up before he reappeared again, this time with a large comforter.

I sighed with embarrassment and guilt, “Jack im fine.” I said

“No you’re not, you’ve had a busy week. If you were tired, you could have stayed home.” He responded, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

He layed me back into the couch carefully wrapping the computer around my tired body.

The droopy state from before slowly coming back

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I let out one last sigh before I closed my eyes.

And i would say i love you but saying it out loud is hard. So I won’t say it at all.

It had been a beautiful day, and usually on days like these Jack would tend to drag me out of my apartment to go on a picnic.

I carefully set a blanket down over the patch of grass we thought would be perfect spot to settle, I watched as he set the basket down and very carefully pulled each container of fruit and crackers out.

Jack had always been easy to talk too I never had to filter myself around him, but I didn’t deserve a person like him.

I watched him as layed propped up on one shoulder talking about anything and everything, slowly biting into my cherry. I paused for a moment before rubbing the bitten cherry against his cheek leaving a pink stain.

I laughed at his reaction going to wipe it away before quickly getting pulled down and the previous cherry being rubbed on my face now

I laughed attempting to push him away but it was no use he was stronger.

“Now we’re even.” He spoke, smiling down at me.

we stared at each other for moments, three words I died to say lingered at the tip of my tongue but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to him.

And I won’t stay very long,

Tears rolled down my face as I found myself in-front of a door I’ve been faced with for months now, my heart banging against my chest.

I waited for a moment before the door swung open to a half awake Jack, his eyebrows furrowed in worry at my distressed state.

“y/n, what’s wrong?” He asked softly pulling me into his apartment, I pulled away slowly.

“I’m sorry jack” I cried lowering my head

“You’re so good to me, but I just can’t seem to-“ I sobbed uncontrollably, unsure if he could even understand me.

“I know.” He responded softly. My head shot up realization and guilt washing over me.

He knew the entire time, but why?, the question repeating over and over in my head.

“I’m so sorry jack” I cried, the sobs becoming more violent as he pulled me into an embrace.

“It’s not your fault,” he shook his head

“I just can’t see how I’m supposed to love if I can’t love myself.” I spoke once my cries softened.

“I want to love you,” I said pulling away, watching as tears threatened to spill from his eyes

“But I just can’t” I finished, attempting to wipe the spilling tears away.

He nodded in agreement giving me an understanding smile

“It’s ok” he reassured me as if I wasn’t breaking his heart.

“I understand if you’re mad or annoyed with me I don’t know why I’m like this” I spoke lowly, the lump in my throat making my words shaky.

Jack embraced me once more, this time hushing me

“If you knew why did you stay, why did waste your time if you knew you’d get hurt in the end.” i questioned

He sighed, “because the thought of not having you at all hurt to much.”

But you are the life I needed all along.

I smiled as me and a group of my friends stumbled into a bar we had been dying to go to for the past month.

the smell of alcohol and burnt out cigarettes washing over me in a second.

I watched as a few of the members separated going there own ways, leaving me a one ther girl.

We had decided to settle at the little bar ordering two beers for night.

I grabbed the cup swiftly taking a sip before setting it back down onto the table. I skimmed over the bar watching as people danced and played pool.

My heart immediately skipped a beat once I was met with a familiar pair of blue eyes that had been staring at me from across the bar.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Jack in a year. Or really since that one night in his apartment. I would say we ended on good terms.

My face burned red as he waved at me with a soft smile.

I waved back, nervously smiling. I watched as he began to mouth something.

“You look beautiful.” he mouthed slowly

“I feel beautiful.” I excitedly mouthed back.

He laughed at my response from across the bar.

“Good.” he nodded.

[brucewaynehater101]

I typically go with Romantic which is just. So *oof*. Also, I can just picture it now. Dick asks Tim why he thought this was a good idea at all, why he didn't call someone for a ride and Tim simply replies, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own like this for years. No need to bother you guys." and before he can even continue theres a chorus of "you aren't a bother" and "what the fuck do you mean?!"

Tim just takes a deep breath and says, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own since before I was Robin so it was never a Robin or Batman issue, it's always been a Tim Drake thing." of course Bruce demands to know what Tim means by "getting back to Gothem on his own" and he just sighs as he sits on some grain, biting the bullet to just get it over with as he says, "sometimes when I went on trips with my parents they would get into arguments and leave in separate cars. And both of them would think the other one took me with them. And I always showed up at home safe and sound a few days later so they never really questioned it. Ha, first time was actually at a Gala in New York. I remember they were fighting about what dig site to go to and that night Mom got on a flight to Siberia while Dad got on a flight to The Congo. I snuck my little nine year old self onto a gray hound bus and rode it all the way to Gothem and then walked back to the manor."

Tim goes on to tell them about other times, somewhere between venting about his trauma and reminiscing about times he looks back on fondly. The fight that left him in Panama Beach when he was 11, the one that left him in Denver when he was 13, just 3 weeks before he became Robin, the one when he was 15 and was abandoned in Atlanta, the time when they left him somewhere in *Canada* and the time he was left in *Mexico City* when he was 14. He even laughs about having to sneak onto a cargo ship when his parents left him in Paris, France when he was 16. He comments that that one was actually a few weeks after he healed from the Titans Tower fight. Bruce and Jason are both totally not having a near panic attack about that last one.

Tim is living his life and forgetting that what he went through is probably fucked up. If it happened to another kid, he'd label that as criminal neglect. For himself? Meh.

(I know this is possible because, as someone who's been praised for being smart, I can be so fucking dumb. After explaining to my therapist that I've had anxiety attacks several years before and get anxious in social situations, I was shocked when she told me I had anxiety. Fucking dumb of me, but I bet Tim makes similar mistakes).

Just Tim vibing over all the "good times" he had and forgetting that it's fucked up his parents did that. He probably also felt really proud of himself for figuring it out. He was able to solve his issues and navigate complicated problems (like crossing borders without a passport) all by himself! Isn't that so cool!

The poor batfam is having heart attack after heart attack hearing all of this. It's another aspect of Tim that gets added to the piles of "things he hid from us without meaning to" and "why digging up the Drakes to revive and kill them again is a good idea" (Damian and Steph mainly are the ones to propose the second option).

I love the examples you proposed! Tim really was vibing

[sunnys-out]

I've loved you for so long (1) | Lucy Bronze

A/N: Hello! I haven't written in so long but here is something that I have been working on since the WC (she's a short one I know). I didn't post it earlier because I was moving and starting a new job but everything has calmed down and I had time to edit it. Please let me know what y'all think and hopefully, I can post the 2nd part soon! If you like my writing maybe through in a suggestion and I'll try my best! :D

Content: Angst, Fluff if you squint

{Word Count: 2004}

______________________________________________________________

I've loved you for so long

Oh, I'd forgotten how it feels

Feelings come back strong

'I've Loved You For So Long - The Aces'

Lucy and I had met, informally, in 2015 in Canada, we never played against each other in that World Cup but that didn’t stop us from bumping into each other at Tim Hortons. The couple of times that we ran into each other at the World Cup caused small conversations and laughs that left me wanting more. God, even just her smile left me wanting. 

I didn’t message her throughout our respective seasons right after the World Cup but sometimes I’d click on her Instagram profile and just scroll and see her thrive in Manchester City. Well I did drum up the courage to message once.

‘It’d probably be weird if I messaged her out of the blue right?... I mean it has been weeks  since Canada?’ I told myself as I lay on my small apartment couch in Portland.  

My thumb hovered over the send button with a slight tremble.

“Fuck it” My thumb harshly hit the screen and the quick ‘Wanted to say that you had an amazing tournament. Shame we never played against each other ♥️That goal against Canada was a banger meant to send that in Canada lol!”  message was delivered.

 I swear I threw my phone onto the other side of my couch and took a shower not expecting to see two notifications sent five minutes after me.

‘Lucy Bronze liked your message’

‘Lucy Bronze: ‘means a lot. Hope to see you again soon, miss world champion ⭐️⭐️⭐️’

I didn’t notice the smile growing as I looked at the notifications on the screen. I probably read it 20 times, setting the phone down on my coffee table and pacing the room debating whether I should respond or what I even should respond with. 

“Lucy is funny, maybe I can joke about how it’s been long or maybe just a ‘feeling is mutual’” I said aloud to myself.

‘Why am I getting worked up about this?” My hair is now messy by how many times I redid my ponytail pacing the room for 13 minutes. I kept procrastinating and just settled with getting ready for bed.

‘I’ll just respond tomorrow,’ I said, confidently,  plugging in my phone and placing it on my nightstand. That sentiment lasted about 2 minutes before I walked quickly back into my room picking up my phone, opening the message, and liking Lucy’s before responding. 

Y/N: I would love to see you again! I hope it's somewhere other than Tim Hortons even though I loved that place lol 🙂

My phone immediately locked as I got into bed and turned away from my phone. I closed my eyes tightly trying to go to sleep quickly so that in the rare probability that Lucy would continue the conversation, I could deal with it tomorrow morning, maybe ask Klingenburg for advice. Though she might scold me for fraternizing with the enemy, jokingly of course. Defenders knew other defenders right? Kling would find it funny that a right winger is flirting with a right back.

My thoughts were interrupted by one vibration and then two more in succession. My body slowly turned over to see my phone lit up still and then slowly dimming. My hand, subconsciously, went over, picked up my phone, and opened the messages seeing Lucy liking my message.

Lucy: Let me buy you a cup whenever you’re in Manchester; there are some cafes you’d like here.

Lucy: I would love to show you around 🙂 

I smiled at the messages and immediately replied without a second thought

Y/N: I will let you know because I do need a vacation 🥲

Y/N: And I would love to give you a tour of Portland, the coffee capital of the world. Worth it.

I stared at the messages until I saw a little heart appear on my last message. The little dots of a message incoming made me nervously tap the side of my phone. 

Lucy Bronze: I’ll take that as a promise 😉

Y/N: And I expect that cup of coffee in Manchester is a promise too ☺️

Lucy would only like the message and I would promptly go to sleep after waiting 15 minutes for a message that never came. I tried my best to not think about it but the feeling that came from reading her messages and the smile that would creep onto my face…I wouldn’t forget. 

Hayley Raso came into my life slowly after that. Glances turned to long stares. The lingering touches throughout practice became more than a pat on the back for a job well done. The smiles and laughs echoed off the walls of Providence Park as we walked to our cars until it was just to my car.

The weekly movie nights at my place turned into watching a show and cuddling together after practice for days on end. Another toothbrush appeared in the bathroom and suddenly my queen-sized bed wasn’t as empty. 

Mornings were met with a quick kiss, a hug from behind, and sweet nothings whispered in each other's ear.

Going to practice wasn’t done alone anymore and it was nice to have someone waiting on you if you had to stay behind to see the physio.

It was easy since we were both playing for Portland at the time and the team weren’t surprised when we told them.

 Little by little the Australian would appear in my Instagram photos and I in hers. 

The one that “broke the internet” was Hayley’s post of her kissing me on the cheek at the end of a game when the USWNT and Australia had a friendly. The one that sealed the deal for everyone was my Christmas post of photos of the party I had at my apartment. One, a particular one at the end, Hayley was in my lap while I kissed her. 

Something, however, nagged at me every time I saw a certain person's name pop up “Lucy Bronze liked your post” but I ignored it. I now know it was the feeling of the “what if” and “what could have been”. 

‘Did Lucy not want this with me? Maybe that’s why she never followed up. I probably said something to scare her away. Hayley didn’t run away’ I remember thinking to myself and as if on cue two arms snake their way around my waist. 

“Everything alright babe?” Hayley said into my back, I, immediately, felt my shoulders relax at the sound of Hayley’s voice.

I whispered, “I'm alright, just read some rude comments. You know how some people get”. I lied to Hayley; I was happy in our relationship and shouldn’t be wondering about the “what could have been” with someone that wasn’t her.  

Hayley would then go on to say that she’s told me to never look at the comments because when have the mean ones ever done something for us? She’d led me back to the bedroom to get ready for bed as we had an early practice but not after she promised to take my mind off the “negative comments”...it worked. 

______________________________________________________________

She Believes Cup March 6th, 2016, 

Lucy Bronze’s POV

We hadn’t played the United States in Canada which is a shame to not be able to play the future World Champions. Once, we had heard that we would be playing them in the She Believes Cup. I was excited for multiple reasons.

The US call up was released and I would be playing against (y/n). Since the World Cup, (Y/N) was making a name for herself as a strong right winger and playmaker for Portland and the National team.

On the pitch, she seemed cold and intimidating, but I met her as the complete opposite. 

I was able to just watch her tap her lip with her finger with her US cap on backward as she decided which pastry she wanted with her coffee at that Tim Hortons. She whistled quietly as she waited her turn and then adorably, fumbled through her order. Then humming to herself happily as she waited on the side with her warm croissant covered by a napkin.  

I was in awe of her. I had seen her play before and was always impressed by what I’d seen but never played against her. 

As I went up to order my own coffee and pastry I noticed her scrolling through her phone, laughing to herself. (y/n’s) eyes crinkle when she laughs or smiles really big. She hadn’t noticed me when I stood next to her, also waiting for my drink, there I took notice that she was at least three inches above me and that she sticks out her tongue when she is reading something. 

I breathed in and said loud enough for her to hear as she read, “I won’t tell your trainer if you don’t tell mine” I shook my little bag containing the coffee cake I had just ordered. I chuckled at the little jump she gave when she noticed me.

“Shit, sorry you scared me” a nervous laugh leaving her mouth

I extended my hand, “Sorry bout that. I’m Lucy, Lucy Bronze with England”  

She completed the handshake, “(y/n) (l/n) with the US…obviously” She pointed to her hat that had USA stitched on the back.

The conversation had good enough banter that we both remained at a table for about 2 hours talking about life and football. I could tell you that I fell for the way she looked at me with her gentle (y/e/c) eyes as she described the antics of her new golden retriever puppy named Chili she had adopted when she went to Portland.

I never really was intimidated or made nervous by any American player, especially on the pitch but watching her warm up with an icy cold expression during the She Believes Cup match made me question if the person I met at Tim Horton’s was the same person. 

I don’t think I was nervous but I lost count of how many times I would try to get a glimpse of her as she warmed up. Every time I did I’d feel the blush on my cheeks as I remembered the short text conversation that we had shortly after the World Cup. 

I regretted so much for not following up immediately; I got scared. If (y/n) asked me today why I didn’t respond, I wouldn’t have known what to say to be honest. Lack of courage was what Jill had told me as Jordan patted my back while reading the messages.  

The moment that I finally gained the courage to message (y/n) on Instagram to invite her to Manchester for a visit, was the day when I saw the picture of Hayley Raso kissing her cheek at a friendly. It was the first thing I saw when I opened the app to message her.

I remember my stomach dropping like the feeling when you don’t feel the bottom of a pool. 

I had it all planned in my head that she’d accept and I had a mini itinerary in my head of things she would’ve enjoyed and sightseeing spots. But the photo of her with her face buried in Hayley’s neck as she hugged her made the feeling worse.

Raso had beat me to (y/n) and she didn’t even know it. I kicked myself for not being brave. I would’ve had her in my arms sooner. I tell her all the time that I fell for her immediately and from meeting her I wanted more of her every passing day. 

Just seeing her across the field filled me with the tucked away feelings I had for her. I remember thinking…What I would have given to be there again talking about the most mundane things over coffee. Hearing her try her hardest to tell a joke but failing as she laughs remembering the punch line or even unconsciously speaking with an English accent when we spoke… God, I really loved her for so long.

[malk1ns]

october 26 2024 @ canucks, 4-3 loss

Бабник = fuckboy, roughly

The Pittsburgh Penguins’ best-kept secret is how much of a party boy their captain is.

Zhenya remembers the phone calls he’d get from Sanja his rookie year in DC. He’d listened to the stories of what it was like to play in the NHL, filing them away and thinking to himself someday, someday. There was so much to remember, new cities and new people and a whole new way of playing hockey, and Zhenya had wondered how Sanja managed to keep it all straight.

One person that kept popping up, of course, was Sidney Crosby.

Zhenya knew who Crosby was, of course. Anyone even remotely connected with hockey heard of him, had an opinion on him—and even without all of that, Zhenya would have remembered him from World Juniors. They’re meant to be teammates, after all, as soon as Zhenya can get out of Magnitogorsk. Sid had been a nasty little bitch on the ice, but his reputation off-ice was sterling. He’d even called Zhenya before World Juniors 2006, once Zhenya was in Canada and his phone calls couldn’t be so closely monitored, to wish him luck. By all accounts, he was polite, respectful, and the perfect ambassador for the sport.

Sanja called him Бабник.

He liked scandalizing Zhenya with stories of Crosby’s exploits, the way the Penguins PR team had to scramble to hand out NDAs and get pictures erased. Even living with Mario Lemieux hadn’t calmed him down, if Sanja was to be believed.

Zhenya didn’t. And then he arrived in Pittsburgh, and saw for himself.

Not much has changed since 2006. Sid’s had girlfriends, ones serious enough to bring to team stuff even, but it never stopped him from having a good time, and because at his core he is a good guy, kind and thoughtful and generous, the team covers for him without hesitation. Zhenya’s watched girls come and go, each of them thinking she’s the one who can get Sid to settle down. None of them have been.

Zhenya can’t judge them too harshly. He keeps that same hope buried in his chest.

Kris knows, Zhenya thinks. He’s never been a very good liar; when Kris caught them once, years ago, Sid was able to smoothly explain it away, it was just casual, convenient, no feelings involved, and Kris nodded along until he looked over and saw Zhenya’s face.

He’s never tried to talk about it with him, but Zhenya’s seen the way Kris looks between them, the way he frowns at Sid when Sid’s putting the moves on some bunny at the bar and Zhenya’s watching. 

He’s doing it now, staring Sid down from where Kris and Zhenya are posted up at the bar. Sid’s on the other side of the room, laughing it up with a couple of girls that managed to get into the team Halloween party. It never seems to matter that they reserve the entire bar every year, someone somewhere finds out and tells people, and halfway through the night there are girls everywhere.

“He’s shameless,” Kris mutters, narrowing his eyes. Zhenya swallows his beer to avoid having to comment. “And in half an hour he’ll be back over here, and you’ll—”

“Shut up, Legend,” Zhenya says, more harshly than he intended. Kris is a good friend, though, and never takes Zhenya’s fits of temper personally; all he does is pat Zhenya’s arm and order him another drink.

Zhenya watches Sid over the rim of his glass.

He’s dressed as a cowboy this year, complete with a red plaid shirt and an oversized white hat. He looks handsome, of course he does, smiling crookedly down at the girls clustered around him as he hands out shots.

If this were a television show, Zhenya muses, Sid would feel Zhenya staring at him. He’d look up and smile, and they’d make significant eye contact, and Sid’s smile would fade as he realized what it meant, and he’d ditch the girls without another word to beeline to Zhenya’s side.

Sid doesn’t look up.

He slips into the car Zhenya called at the end of the night, though, buckling himself in without even asking if Zhenya minds the company.

He never does. That’s part of the problem. He doesn’t mind the warm palm Sid brushes over his leg, sliding it higher and higher up his thigh as they wind through the dark streets back to Zhenya’s. He doesn’t mind the way Sid crowds him as they stumble into his house, the way Sid moans so sweet in his ear as Zhenya puts him onto the mattress and grinds them together, licking at his neck to get the smell of some girl’s perfume off and replace it with Zhenya’s own.

It’s not until after, when Sid’s putting his clothes back on and chatting about his plans with Flower after Tuesday’s game like nothing happened at all, when Zhenya starts to mind.

Every time Sid comes over, he lets himself hope. And every time Sid leaves, the disappointment is painful in its familiarity.

No, Sid hasn’t changed much since 2006. Zhenya has, though. He wonders when he’ll have changed enough to stop doing this to himself.

[thatchickwiththecamera]

If I'm There

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Death, Loss, Grief.  

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Y/N groaned upon entering the hotel room and flung her body onto the crisply made king sized bed. The pelican case she had been holding was discarded somewhere along her journey. Noah, her boyfriend of two years, simply smiled at her antics as he rolled their remaining bags into the entryway. 

Noah’s band, Bad Omens, had just wrapped up their latest North American tour with a four day run of shows across central and eastern Canada. Y/N was a member of the band’s visuals team and worked as the lighting and video technician alongside Matt at Front of House. Her and Noah met four years ago when she was running visuals for one of the bands supporting Bad Omens on tour. 

Noah, Matt, and Nicholas liked her work and decided to extend an offer to join their growing team prior to the next tour. After two years of working with Bad Omens and two years of tip-toeing around shared feelings, Noah finally asked her on a date and as they say, the rest is history. 

With this tour coming to a close, it meant that they had the next two weeks off to do whatever they wanted before the guys had to be back in Los Angeles to finish tracking the new album. Everyone was scheduled to fly back to their respective home states at various times throughout the next day. While all of the gear was to be freighted back to the LA to either be stored in the warehouse until the next tour or to be moved into the awaiting studio space for recording. 

“I am so ready to sleep in my own bed,” She exclaimed, voice slightly muffled by the pillows. “I think the mattresses in the bunks are getting worse with each tour.”

“Either that or we’re just finally starting to feel older.” he said, flopping down next to her, “I mean, we are almost thirty.” 

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

Before she can raise the question of who gets first dibs at the shower, she is interrupted by the familiar sound of her sister’s ringtone chirping from the phone in the front pocket of her hoodie. 

“Yellow!” She tiredly exclaims, placing the phone on speaker. 

“Y/N” the serious tone of her sister's voice cuts through the speaker. 

She immediately sits up and looks over at Noah, now sporting a concerned look on his face that she was sure matched her own. 

Her sister rarely called her by her first name. Mainly using childhood nicknames. Never her given name. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N questions. 

“Y/N…it's Olivia.” Her sister continued, voice shaky. “There’s been an accident.”

She went on to explain that Olivia, Y/N’s best friend since as long as she could remember, had been hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home from dinner with friends from work. She had been rushed to the local trauma center where the medical team had managed to stabilize her but they stated that the next 24 hours were going to be critical. 

Noah was immediately on the phone with Matt, who five minutes later knocked on their door ready to drive them to the airport. 

The small airport chapel was dark and empty. The smell of incense lingered in the air from a Mass held earlier in the day. Y/N sat quietly in the last pew staring up at the large crucifix hanging on the wall above the altar and tabernacle. 

Despite eventually developing a vehement disinterest in organized religion as an adult, Y/N had been raised in the Bible Belt of the deep south and had grown up in and out of church as a child and young adult. She had witnessed and experienced enough over the course of her life that made her unable to completely let go of the notion that there was a greater power at play somewhere in the universe. 

Her grandmother always expressed belief in the power of prayer and when her usual sage advice fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn teenager, she always told Y/N to ultimately pray about it. 

“Give it up to God,” she would say, “Put it in his hands.” 

There were no direct flights out of Toronto, which left them stuck at JFK in New York City for the next three hours due to a layover. Noah’s many years on the road made it possible for him to sleep pretty much anywhere despite his tall frame. But her anxiety prevented her from finding any respite of sleep on the uncomfortable metal chairs outside the gate. 

Which is why she now found herself sitting in the Our Lady of the Skies chapel talking to a wooden crucifix. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you or if you even are actually there and listening,” She states, eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to form, “But at this point I’m desperate.”

“If there is one person in this lifetime that deserves to live a long and fulfilling life it is her,” she continued, “she can be one of the most naive people I know, but she has only ever brought kindness and love into this world because of it.” 

“You’ve already taken so many from me…,” she pleads, unable to hold back the tears as a few escape and trail down her cheeks. “Please don’t take her too.” 

A moment later she felt the warmth of an arm wrap around her and turned to see Noah sit down next to her, their carry-ons bags sitting on the floor in the aisle next to the pew. 

She buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, placed a tender kiss on her head and held her close as she finally let the tears pour out. 

Upon landing in South Carolina, Y/N's sister met them at baggage claim. She looked as tired and spread thin as Y/N did. She knew just how much Olivia meant to her little sister, and also considered her a good friend. But her bond of friendship was no wear near as unbreakable as the one that had been built between Olivia and Y/N over the years.

She wrapped Y/N up into a tight hug and let her know that Olivia had been rushed back into emergency surgery about an hour before they had landed. They had found internal bleeding that was previously missed due to the severity of the initial trauma sustained in the crash, causing her previously stable condition to quickly deteriorate. 

Upon arriving at Columbia Memorial Hospital, they quickly located Olivia’s parents in the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Olivia’s mother, Mary grabbed Y/N in a  bone crushing hug the second she saw her, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did. She followed the band and knew the journey they had made to be there. Before they could speak further, a man dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the large bay door. She felt Noah take her hand and give it a squeeze.

Mary walked over to the doctor. He grabbed her hands and shook his head. Y/N couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but Mary’s reaction to them told her all she needed to know. 

Olivia was gone.

Y/N felt numb. She felt her emotions shut down. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees but her body just remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Noah’s hand never left hers and his grip never faltered.

They briefly expressed their condolences to Mary and other member’s of their family before leaving them space to grieve. There was no reason for them to stay at the hospital while Mary began the heartbreaking task of preparing for her only child’s funeral. 

The drive to her sister’s house was silent. She showed Y/N and Noah to the guest room and left them to unpack and prepare for bed. 

Y/N found little sleep that night. As sunlight began to stream in through the bedroom window, she turned to peer at the clock on the nightstand. 

It read 6:00am. She quietly rose so as not to disturb Noah’s sleeping form in the bed next to her. She quickly dressed, grabbed her sneakers, and headed out the front door. 

Y/N ran. 

She ran until her lungs felt like broken shards of glass. 

She ran until her legs felt like they were made of jello.

She ran until her feet were numb and weighed heavy like cinder blocks.

In school, she ran after her first heartbreak, she ran when her father died of cancer, she ran when her mother became absent in her own grief leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, until she would eventually pass as well. 

She ran when all of life's problems seemed to pile up as high as the peaks of Mount Everest and bare down on her shoulders. 

When life didn’t make sense, Y/N ran. 

Olivia had always been the one to run with her. When her own body would grow tired she would remain on the bench at the trailhead of the old high school cross country course, making sure Y/N knew she wasn’t alone. 

But now Olivia was gone and the bench by the trailhead sat empty save for the water bottle Y/N had discarded at the start of her run. She tried to ignore the empty spot as she set out on her second loop. 

As she circled around again she spotted a second water bottle sitting next to hers on the bench. She felt the already growing agitation stir inside her further at the idea of having to interact with a stranger on the course. She prayed they would just run their route and leave her alone. 

Halfway through her third loop she heard the sound of another person coming up from behind her and expected them to call out what side they would be passing her and continue their run. 

Instead the person fell into stride next to her. She turned her head, ready to tell the stranger to politely fuck off, but stopped when she saw Noah running next to her.

He didn’t say anything, just kept running, never leaving her side as they continued to complete two more loops. He knew this was something she had to do, and despite his own fatigue, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone. 

Toward the end of her fifth loop, she felt her legs start to give way. Her toes snagged on a root sticking up in the middle of the path and she waited for her body to hit the dirt. She thought that maybe she would just lay there for a while and let the earth swallow her whole, but the impact never came. 

Instead she felt Noah wrap his arms around her. Pulling her firmly into his chest. The weight of everything she tried to hold inside started to fracture and crumble around her. The emotion she tried to run from rebounded back like a lightning bolt striking her directly in the heart. She thrashed against his hold and hit the bottom of her fists against his chest. 

She screamed out in rage as the hot tears streamed down her face. But despite her best attempts at getting him to let go, his hold remained firm. Noah was sure that his chest was red by the time she finally relaxed in his arms. He took the opportunity to kneel down and scooped the sobbing figure of the woman he loved into his arms. She didn’t have the energy to protest as he carefully carried her home. 

The funeral took place four days later. It was held at St. Joseph's Cathedral downtown where four generations of Olivia’s family had been baptized, confirmed, married, and eulogized. She could not deny that the Mass her family prepared had been beautiful despite Y/N not knowing much about the ways and traditions of the Catholic Church. 

After the service, Mary came up to the both of them and thanked them again for traveling back like they did and for staying for the service. 

“You were the closest thing Olivia had to a sister and even though it may not have seemed like it at times, you were and still are like my second child.” She stated. “Thank you for being her friend and being in our lives.” 

Tears once again formed in her eyes as Mary pulled her in for one of her soul squeezing motherly hugs that Y/N learned to cherish over the years. 

“I love you so much” she said, reaching up to grab either side of Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs. “And I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, before hugging the woman once again. 

The next day they were scheduled to fly back to LA, but not before visiting Olivia’s grave. It was covered in layers of floral arrangements and marked by a temporary placard with ‘Olivia Renee Barber” and her dates of birth and death engraved on dark metal. 

Noah stayed back as Y/N paid her respects. He wished that he could take all of her grief and carry it on his own shoulders so she didn’t have to weather the burden. He knew from his own experiences that she had to go through this process at her own pace. Loss was not linear and there were no magical boxes to check as you grieve and heal.

There was one thing he knew for absolute certain. As long as he was around, she would never go through anything in this world alone. He’d be there to catch her when she’d fall and just as he knew she’d do the same for him in return.