#looking back at that friendship and its felt like for years now that she would never take responsibility for anything

[lqveharrington]

Rodrick heffley………better than revenge

Better Than Revenge | R.H.

summary: after years of friendship with rodrick, the one thing that came in between you was a girl.

pairing: rodrick heffley x best friend!reader

includes: use of Y/N, reader's last name is Johnson, pretty much angst, fighting, yelling, cursing, unspoken feelings, mentions of murder, not proof read

a/n: first time writing for rodrick, tell me how it is!

The one thing you didn’t think would get in between you and Rodrick was a girl. Sure, he had talked with girls who would give him the time of day, but they never really phased you. Not like Heather Hills. Her prissy attitude and selfishness somehow found its way under your skin, riling you up and causing a hitch in your friendship with Rodrick. You knew she wasn’t good for him but — of course — he never listened. It seemed as if you were merely a second thought.

And it didn't help that she looked at you like you were a waste of space. But who was the one getting all the college scholarships and going to college in the first place?

“Rodrick, she’s just using you as a rebound!” You huff and grab your keys from his bed side table, slipping your shoes back on.

You meant to spend an hour over at Rodrick’s before heading over to your cello lesson in preparation for the final concert before heading off to college, but he just had to bring up his date with Heather. You tried to fake a pretty smile for him and nodded politely — you really did. But as soon as he stopped everything to answer a dry text message from the woman herself, you decided you had enough of his nonsense.

Rodrick hastily tucked his phone in his back pocket and watched you with confused eyes, brow furrowing at your sudden desire to leave. “Heather likes me, okay? You know this has been the dream since—“

"Since elementary, I know!" You glare at him and stare at him a second longer before running your fingers through your hair in annoyance. "Whatever, I don't have time for this."

Swiftly, you raced down the stairs and nearly collided with Greg. You quickly apologized and did your best to make it to your car without being stopped by Rodrick. Did you really want to leave the house on a bad note? No, but god he was annoying you beyond all measures.

Rodrick pursed his lips and tapped his foot to the ground before chasing after you, colliding with Greg this time. He pushed his brother out of the way and blocked the front door, narrowing his eyes when you rolled yours.

You moved to the left and he followed. You moved to the right and he followed. Huffing, you crossed your arms and looked up at him in exasperation. “I need to head to cello, Rodrick—“

“Are you jealous?” He breathed out and looked over your facial expression, shaking his head when you sent him another glare.

Rodrick was used to your glares and your occasional arguments, but this one felt more personal. After years and years of friendship, this felt like a final blow to a precarious accord. Like one wrong move would completely change your views on each other.

“Why would I be jealous?” You crease your brows and frown, eyes flickering back and forth between him and the door behind him.

He shook his head and raised his arms in frustration. He didn't know what to say, so he said the first thing his mind thought of whenever he thought of you. “I-I don’t know! Maybe because I'll like her better than you?”

Your mouth parted ever so slightly before you felt your eyes glazed over in anger, shoving him to the side. "Fuck off, Rodrick."

Of course the time you decide to use foul language was when Mrs. Heffley entered the room. She took one look at the two of you and stood in between, hands pushing you two away from each other.

“Language!” She scolded and glanced at your teary-eyed expression, anger dissipating at the sight. “What are you two arguing about now?”

“Nothing.” You both speak at the same time, still staring at each other in glowering hatred.

Several seconds later, you pull away from Mrs. Heffley and move to the door yanking the handle hard like it was the one who insulted you. Mrs. Heffley looked at her soon in disappointment and opened her mouth to speak but got interrupted by you, pursing her lips at how distant your voice was.

“I have cello, so if you’ll excuse me.”

For the rest of the month leading up to your final orchestra concert in Plainview, you were in a sour mood. You would have thought a final goodbye to your childhood town would have been more mournful, but all you felt was annoyance. Even your cello teacher knew something was upsetting you. However she was only in her early twenties, so every so often you felt like she was your friend more than a mentor.

“Then he has the audacity to ask if I’m jealous and never reaches out afterward!” You pace around your cello teacher's office with a heavy heart. You had been complaining for the last thirty minutes of the lesson, and all you wanted to do was burst into tears at the thought of Rodrick claiming you were jealous of Heather. “I swear, he’s such an ass. Even more now that Heather has him wrapped around her finger. She thinks she's so innocent when really she's an actress and known as a w—"

You teacher put a hand up and stopped you, "Enough complaints about Rodrick. I'm almost positive tomorrows lesson will be about him anyway."

You sent her a sheepish smile and sat in your chair again, fiddling with the old friendship bracelet you and Rodrick made way back in middle school. You didn't think twelve years of friendship would wash away because of Heather, but you also didn't think you would end up in the situation you were in now.

"Besides Rodrick, have you hung out with anyone else this summer?" She moved around to wipe the dry erase marker off the board, tilting her head when your face flushed crimson. "So there is one?"

"Only Alex." You murmured and picked at your nails, more interested in the color than the topic.

Your teacher chuckled and gave you a lopsided smile, "Instead of dwelling on the Heffley boy, why not give Alex your time? It's better than whatever revenge you were planning in your head."

Somehow, you flushed an ever deeper shade of red and nodded, hating how she was able to read you so well. Your thoughts went back to the boy who caused all your grievances. If he didn't care how you felt any longer, why should you care about how he felt?

Rodrick didn't know if you even wanted him to come watch you orchestra concert. Since you first picked up a cello, he came to every single concert and in return, you came to watch whenever his band performed. But after the horrid argument he started, he wasn't sure if you would still welcome his family — more or less him — to the concert.

“Rodrick, let’s go! We’re going to be late!” His mother shouted from the bottom of the staircase, causing him to snap out of his stupor.

Grudgingly, he clipped on his tie and made his way to the foyer, groaning when his mother fussed over the dirt smudges over his face. He swatted her hands away and took care of the issue himself, grumbling in annoyance. Susan looked at her eldest and narrowed her eyes, knowing he had something to say.

Rodrick rolled his eyes and shook his head, unruly hair sticking out in various places. “I don’t think she’ll want me there.”

“Of course, she does!" Susan adjusted Rodrick's collar and patted his chest, giving him a reassuring smile. "Despite whatever — uh — conflicts you two have, she’ll still want to see her best friend in the audience for her big day.”

"And we already told her family to save seats for us at the front row." Frank muttered under his breath and earned a smack to the arm from his wife.

Rodrick huffed and messed with his cuffs, not meeting either of his parents' eyes. He didn't need his mother's sympathy or his father's military style attitude to ruin the rest of his already awful summer break.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He shuffled to the door and swung it open, nearly knocking Greg off his feet. “Let’s get this over with.”

As always, your performance was flawless. From full orchestra to your solos, you were absolutely marvelous. Every time you went to play, you were completely immersed in your own world. You focused on your own instrument and listened for the cues. You were at peace and it was such a display each and every time.

Often you would open your eyes to scan the crowd in between the switching of instruments, almost like you were looking for someone. When you met Rodrick's eyes, he sent you an encouraging smile and only until you sent him a quick smile did his own felt real.

"See, she did want you here!" Susan whisper-shouted at Rodrick and nudged him with her elbow, earning a weak grin from him.

When the concert finally finished and the final applause died out, the institution was finally able to award their seniors as they were leaving in a little over a week. Rodrick had completely zoned out all the other awards, nearly falling asleep before his mother stood and cheered quite loudly when you were called up to the front.

“The Beatrice Huntington Award goes to… Y/N Johnson! Along with the George Barati Cello Scholarship! Congratulations Miss Johnson!” Your cello teacher spoke into the microphone and handed you a plaque, giving you a hug when you appeared by her side with a bright smile.

You beamed at the crowd as many of them knew you since you were only six. Your eyes watered as you took a final bow, earning a louder applause. You knew this would be your last performance for the institution, and when you came back, it would be completely different.

Your eyes met with Rodrick's one last time before the audience was dismissed. You could practically feel how proud he was despite his low effort in looking decent. He sent you a thumbs up and you laughed softly, wiping your tears before your makeup could run.

When you made it out to the auditorium foyer, you were immediately swept into the arms of Mrs. Heffley and felt her attack of kisses to your cheek. Laughing, you returned her hug with the same amount of emotion. She was the one who truly supported your decision in playing the cello at such a young age.

“Congratulations, sweetie!” She squeezed your shoulders and pulled you into another hug, smiling so bright it could out shine the sun. She sniffled and dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. “Couldn’t be more proud of you!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Heffley.” You pull away and send her a grateful smile, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Your eyes drifted to her family behind her, smile widening when Manny waved at you. You could see that the entire Heffley family was proud but nothing could prepare you for Rodrick trying to hide his own tears. You were unsure if they were for you or about you, but you were immediately pulled out of your thoughts when Mrs. Heffley offered to take you out for dinner with her family.

“Oh, it's quite alright, Mrs. Heffley!" You tighten your grip on your award and avoid Rodrick's eyes. "My... A friend is taking me out to dinner tonight and I wouldn't want them to feel like I'm ditching them last minute."

Her eyebrows shot up and opened her mouth to ask who, in hopes of inviting them as well when said friend walked up and wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed you temple, smiling down at you. She was even more surprised when you smiled up at the boy and whispered unknown words to him.

"I'll be there in a second." You murmur and meet his bright eyes, heart swelling when he pressed a kiss to your lips. "Alex..."

"Well you have to introduce me to them, yeah?" He whispered back and pressed one last kiss to your lips before winking at you.

You clear your throat and give the now shocked family a bashful grin, eyes only meeting Mrs. Heffley's wide ones. She continued to look between the both of you, doing her best not to verbally react to the new information.

"Uhm, Heffleys, this is Alex. Alex, this is the Heffley family." You gesture and nearly drop the plaque, Alex's hand coming around to help you balance the heavy glass.

When no one reacted, you awkwardly stood in front of them, smile faltering when they glanced at each other with confused looks. You were about to excuse yourself when Mrs. Heffley finally realized what had happened.

She began to introduce everyone in the family and nodded until you thought her head would fall off. You hid your laugh in Alex's shoulder and sighed softly before you heard Alex mutter something utterly shocking in your ear.

"Rodrick looks like he might stabbed me to death with his drumsticks."

You furrow your brows and look over him, frowning when he did in fact look murderous. He was happy just a few second ago, what happened?

"Sorry to interrupt," You cut of the rest of Mrs. Heffley's confusing rambling. "But we have to get going soon."

"Oh, yes, of course!" She quickly spoke and gave you one last grin. "Congratulations again."

"Thank you." You send her a happy smile before looking back at Rodrick one last time.

He shook his head at you and turned away, leaving you to ponder whether or not he truly was happy for you. But was it your fault? He didn't try and reach out to you the entire month and he expected you to just stay around him. It was unfair and you both knew it.

So without any sort of remorse, you let Alex sweep you away to the diner. It didn't matter what Rodrick thought anymore. Besides, he had Heather Hills to fall back onto.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt. 

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you. 

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

[sakebytheriver]

...

[wileys-russo]

Wally, “they just called me your girlfriend and you didn’t correct them” at a cafe or smth please

correction II l.wälti

"-and you're sure you know where we're going?" you asked skeptically, shrugging on your puffer jacket and grabbing your scarf from the hat rack.

"of course i do! i am the local here, no?" the swiss woman huffed, raising an eyebrow questioningly as you wrapped your scarf around your neck and shrugged.

"i wasn't aware you grew up on the mountains in the middle of nowhere. were you raised by wolves?" you teased the girl who mocked you and pulled a face, pulling your beanie down to cover your face.

"we are not in the middle of nowhere, we are at a ski resort and going for a walk on a marked trail. it will be fine!"

turns out, those were famous last words.

"we've passed this tree trunk before." you narrowed your eyes, jutting out your hip and looking it up and down. "how would you know that!" lia paused beside you and scoffed, hands on her own hips.

"easy. you tripped over it, see? your boot mark in the snow." you pointed out, squatting down and outlining the partially covered up print, pointing then to lias own boot with a satisfied nod.

"i tripped over? you pushed me!" lia argued as you glanced up with a sly smile. "me? i would never dare." you gasped sarcastically, standing up straight and backing away slightly, noticing lia now had one hand hidden behind her back.

you weren't quite sure what the two of you were, close friends to say the least, though you'd be lying if you hadn't thought about becoming more, wondering if lia had too.

it had started only a few months ago, what had grown to be a comfortable and dependable friendship with the midfielder seemed to shift one night, a group of your teammates over for dinner all but lia had headed off to their own homes.

the two of you had been locked into a very heated game of monopoly, warned by your captain you had training the next morning but both of your competitive natures meant you weren't stopping until someone won.

well that was the plan, until lia, who was surely set to lose, was suddenly just far too tired to continue, insisting the two of you call it a draw and ignoring your accusations she was only saying this so she didn't lose.

she'd wound up staying the night, and not bothered to change the sheets in your spare bedroom she'd crashed with you, only when you awoke it was to the pair of you much closer than you'd been when you drifted off, limbs entangled and lia's face so close to yours you could count the freckles dotting her nose if you wished.

since then you noticed the pair of you, who'd always seemed to gravitate toward one another, had somehow grown even closer, lia seeming to spend the night more often, and every morning you'd wake up wrapped up together, but never did you really speak about it.

from then on it felt a little like the two of you were doing some sort of dance, you'd get close, then closer, then right as it seemed like maybe something a little less than friendly might happen one of you spun away like a top, and a little while later the cycle would repeat itself again.

then came the winning of the continental cup, and the alcohol fueled dance party that carried on till the early hours of the morning, the pair of you both crashing at leahs house too drunk to remember your own addresses to add to the uber.

and around three in the morning, curled up together on the sofa in leahs living room, the pair of you shared a very drunken kiss, a habit which seemed to follow you both though a habit which only raised its head when your bloodstreams pumped with alcohol.

then the next morning would come the fake amnesia, neither one of you choosing to bring up your activities the night before but also not making a choice to refrain from letting them happen again.

and just like that a whole new step was added to your little dance routine.

a lack of new years plans had you roped into lia's, the girl forever eager to gush about her home country was all the more excited to be able to actually show it to you, meeting up with a few of her friends after she'd picked you up from the airport two days after christmas.

"say that you tripped me." lia ordered, her slow steps forward matching yours which moved backwards, hand still hidden behind her back, your lips curling into a smile at the accent which stuck to her words.

"i was raised not to tell lies, wälti." you grinned, a slight mistetp having you tripping over a stick hidden beneath the pilowy white surface of the snow trodden ground, and with that little wobble, the swiss woman struck.

"oh? well then since i was raised by wolves..." you squealed as the ball of snow exploded against the side of your face, lia's own lit up with a shit eating grin, a belt of laughter echoing through the air.

"this means war."

somewhere along the way of your running and dodging and throwing it would seem you'd stumbled back into the ski village, the trail left behind you as you felt your back knock into someone.

"oh god i am so-" but your words fell short as a snowball hit you in the back of the head, the man you'd bumped into giving you an odd look and continuing on his way.

"oh lia it went down the back of my neck!" you whined with a groan, wiggling uncomfortably as the ice cold water trickled down your spine, your scarf now also damp and useless as it was balled up in your hands.

"entschuldigung. come on, let us warm back up!" the woman laughed, arm slung over your shoulders and an apologetic kiss pressed to your cheek, marching the pair of you toward the nearest cafe.

"now will you admit that you got us lost?" you accused, bumping your shoulder into lia's after she'd ordered coffees for the pair of you. "no! i knew where were going the whole time." lia declined as you scoffed and she gave you a cheeky smile.

"you absolutely did not." "i did!" "you did not!" "i did. we got back here, no?" "no thanks to you!"

your little argument was paused by lia's name being called out as she pulled your beanie down over your face again and hurried to the counter to collect them.

"oo wait they have chocolate syrup!" you spied eagerly as lia handed you your coffee, darting off back to the counter as she watched with a smile before looking around the crowded room for a free table.

unable to find one she made her way to a couple sat at a six seater, politely asking if they'd mind sharing which neither one of them did, lia finding you chatting away happily to the barista, catching your eye with a little wave.

you'd made enough polite conversation with the couple beside you to warrant them bidding their goodbyes as they had a ski lesson booked in, though you'd excused yourself to use the bathroom when they arose from the table.

however you did catch the very last of their farewell as you returned toward the table, messing about with the zipper of your puffer which was jammed, a frustrated huff leaving your lips.

"-and tell your girlfriend we said good luck for the champions league for both of you. up the arsenal!" the woman cheered before her partner who appeared a little embarrassed tugged her away, lia laughing and waving them off.

"well we can tell leah that we have converted some non football fans into gooners!" lia teased as you joined her back at the table, both of your coffees long finished and a slice of chocolate cake shared between you.

"they just called me your girlfriend, and you didn't correct them." you stated as you took your seat, lia's cheeks flushing with colour. "i-well yes." she confirmed, a little lost for words and clearly flustered.

"does that maybe mean if i asked you to get dinner tonight, it could be a date?" you weren't sure where the sudden burst of confidence came from, the fear of rejection simmering at the surface the more seconds ticked by without an answer.

"or that was a stupid idea and-" "yes."

"yes?" you asked, wide eyed in surprise as now your own cheeks seemed to flush a rosy pink. "yes. its a date!" lia smiled shyly, knee knocking into yours as a few moments of comfortable silence passed between you.

"so does this mean now you will admit you got us lost?"

[wifelivvyx]

magazines - fred weasley.(fred x fem!reader)

✮ — In the burrow alone in with Fred in his room which was shared with his twin brother, you find a dirty magazine.

(handjob, teasing, smut, minors dni!)

also should i continue this story?? i dont think its that good but

You and Fred were sitting in the cluttered, mismatched room that George and Fred shared at The Burrow. The scent of old wood and faint traces of their mother's cooking filled the air. The room was cozy in a way that only a space filled with years of memories could be: posters of famous Quidditch players were pinned up haphazardly, a few stray socks lay on the floor, and a pile of half-finished experiments sat on the desk. The room felt like a reflection of Fred himself—chaotic, creative, and always just a little bit mischievous.

Fred was propped up against the headboard of his bed, tossing a small ball of parchment between his hands. You sat cross-legged at the edge, your attention fixed on the open notebook between you, filled with doodles and ideas for your wizard joke shop. The soft glow from a nearby lamp cast a warm, golden hue over the room as you both scribbled, your minds brimming with the next big prank or invention that could take the wizarding world by storm.

Though George and the rest of the Weasley family were somewhere else in the house, probably causing some sort of commotion in the kitchen or lounge room, you and Fred were content to stay in your little corner of the Burrow, brainstorming in the quiet. It was the perfect moment for brainstorming—no interruptions, just the two of you and your wild ideas.

Your hand paused mid-scribble as you glanced up at Fred, catching his eye for a split second. There was a familiar comfort in the space you shared—one that had developed over years of friendship. The dynamic had always been easy between you, starting from childhood, when you would race around the Burrow together, exploring every nook and cranny of the place. But now, there was something else, something unspoken that lingered in the air between you.

You were aware of it, and Fred—well, he seemed to be aware too. You had both noticed that your bond had changed over time, growing deeper, quieter, but still somehow more powerful. It was a silent intimacy that neither of you really spoke about, but you both felt it—especially now, sitting together like this, with the hum of the Burrow in the background, the world outside just slightly out of reach.

You sighed, obviously bored - not to mention your hand was starting to cramp from all this writing. Your eyes wandered around the room before your eyes locked onto his bedside draw. Her fingers wrapped around the draw puller. "Lets see what you have in here," She said with a grin.

"Eh, not much," Fred replied, a slight grin on his face. He knew you had always been curious about his room. "Just some potions textbooks, a few quidditch supplies, and a hidden stash of sweets. Oh, and a couple of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes prototypes that we never got around to selling."

He nudged you with his elbow playfully. "Mind you, you might have to dig a bit to find the sweets. I'm not going to make it easy for you, now, am I?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but paused when you saw something that looked.. out of place. It was some sort of magazine, hiding under loose parchment and potion textbooks. Your fingers wrap around it and pull the magazine out. "Hey, what's this?-"

Fred's eyes visibly widened and he hastily snatched it out of your hand. "Its nothing, just a boring catalog." He said, his tone rushed and slightly shaky. He quickly hid it back in its original place, letting out a loud breath that almost sounded like relief.

You eyed him suspiciously. "If its just a boring catalog, why are you hiding it?" He was now refusing to meet your eye. "It- well, you know-" He tried to stutter out, failing miserably. She tried not to snicker. "It- well- can I see it or not?" She retorted, crossing her legs as she turned to face him fully. He gave her a serious look, one you rarely see on either one of the Weasley twins. "Listen,-" As soon as he even tried to explain himself, she had swiftly snatched the book and ran to the other side of the room. You were hoping it was something that would embarrass him. She expected it to be a diary, a journal - you opened the book swiftly, only to see naked women posing in different types of positions - this was a pornography magazine.

Your cheeks flushed - you had never thought about your child best friend masturbating, you didn't even think he would be able to sneak around doing such a lewd thing without getting caught by at least one family member.

Fred had turned into a stumbling mess, unable to form words. "No, you- its not what it looks like!" Fred could feel the heat radiating from his body, and he knew you would never let him live this down. He tried to laugh nervously, hoping that maybe you'd find the whole situation amusing.

You were at a loss for words, you were incredibly flustered..

but that only lasted a few moments.

She flicked through the pages with her thumb, seeing a particular girl on her knees staring up at the camera. The page had spots of what looked like cum, which glistened the page. "Looks like you really liked this position," She turned the magazine so he could see for himself. She stared at him for a moment, seeing a tent begin to form in his pants - he looked slightly ashamed, and his cheeks were almost the same color as his hair. This was the perfect opportunity to mess with him. she slowly walked over to him, standing in front of his legs. she grabbed his knees, spreading them open so she could stand in between them.

Fred was beyond confused now, but he said nothing, his tent in his pants more obvious than earlier. She put the magazine on the bed, then sat down on her knees, looking up at him. "Does this do something to you?" She said, looking up at him. Fred's eyes widened as he took you in, his eyes travelling your position. You could now clearly see the outline of his entire dick, the head almost completely visible. "Aww," She fake pouted. "Poor baby's got a terrible erection." She made a 'tutting' sound with her mouth, then used two fingers to slide into his waist band and tug his pants down to his ankles. Fred's breath hitched as his erection bounced off his stomach. She used her thumb to wipe his tip, his pre-cum already leaking through his underwear. He let out a groan. "Shh, there's people downstairs." She teased. Most of the Weasley family was indeed just downstairs, chatting away. she drags her thumb along the tip of his cock, and she can’t help but smirk against his skin as he shudders. You slipped a hand down his trousers and into his boxers, running it along his length. His eyes were screwed shut in the sheer amount of pleasure that was washing over him as you pumped your hand up and down. He bit his lip to the point that it looked like it was going to start bleeding any second. Fred bucked his hips into her hand, letting out muffled groans. his knuckles began to turn white from how hard he’s gripping his bedsheets. She can feel his dick twitch in her hands.

She then pulls her hand out from his boxers.

He let out a gasp at the sudden loss of touch, his hips thrusting the air for a moment. Fred let out an annoyed groan. "Please-"

She couldn’t help but laugh, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The situation felt far too entertaining for her to keep a straight face. "Seriously, be quiet," she teased, her tone playful but with an edge of caution. "We don’t want anyone hearing us, do we?" A smirk curled on her lips as she let the words sink in. She relished the brief moment of tension in the air, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Then, she stood, taking her time as she made her way toward the door. Her hand brushed the cool wood of the doorframe, lingering for a second as if she was debating something, before she turned back toward him. The playful gleam in her gaze softened, replaced by a more subtle, knowing expression. "I wouldn’t stay in here too long, your family'll get suspicious." She let the words hang in the air for a beat before pushing the door open and stepping out, a confident smirk playing on her lips as she pulled it shut quietly behind her.

Descending the stairs with purpose, she felt a sense of pride swell in her chest. She could hear the sounds of conversation from below, and as she turned the corner, she saw the family in the living room. Molly and Arthur were perched on the couch, the usual warmth of their presence filling the room. George and Ginny sat on the floor in front of them, the faint sound of their laughter mixing with the creaking of the wooden floor beneath their feet.

Molly’s eyes brightened when she spotted her, and she beamed, gesturing for her to join them. "Dear! Come sit, come sit! Where's Freddie?" The question was filled with curiosity, but also the kind of innocent concern that only a mother could express.

Without missing a beat, she slid onto the couch next to George, her body language confident as she casually leaned back. "He’s still upstairs," she replied nonchalantly. "He should be coming down now." She could hear the soft creaking of the stairs from above, the sound of Freddie making his way toward them.

Fred came over, his legs looking as if they were cramped together, and his hands trying to causally look like they were comfortably placed over his crotch - he was hiding his obvious boner. He looked like such a mess - face flushed, breathing unsteadily. George looked at Fred then you suspiciously, and it seemed only him and Authur suspected anything.

[theoldsports]

SPONTANEOUS.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

LINK TO SORRY SERIES

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she’s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

[dae-chwiita]

A Little Too Late, A Little Too Drunk

Pairing : San X reader

Summary : You keep ignoring San and his drunk self can't handle it.

TW : drunk San, jealousy, kind of corny ? idk fluff fluff fluff

_________________

The room buzzed with laughter, music, and the faint clink of glasses, noises that matched your troubled emotions. The party was in full swing, yet it felt as though you were outside looking in—especially when your gaze inevitably found its way to San.

There he was, all sharp lines and soft smiles, his laughter booming over the music as he chatted with the girl you’d seen with the group before. She was beautiful, confident, and far too comfortable with him for your liking. It wasn't the first time you saw her; always hanging out with the guys recently.

You turned away quickly, heart twisting. It wasn’t as though you had any claim over him—San didn’t know about the feelings that had grown for almost a year now, feelings that had steadily grown into an ache every time he smiled at someone prettier who wasn’t you.

It was easier to ignore him, to let the sting of jealousy numb you, rather than risk exposing your vulnerability. That burning jealousy made it impossible to even look his way, you couldn't let your overflowing feelings see the light of day. If he found out, your friendship would be gone ! How could San want someone like you, when he could have someone like her ?

“Hey, come on.” Wooyoung nudged your shoulder, pulling you back to the moment. “You’ve been in your head all night. Let’s grab a drink.”

“Sure,” you murmured, looking at your empty cup, hoping the distraction would help. But even as you followed Wooyoung toward the makeshift bar, your eyes betrayed you, darting once again to San.

He was still with her, but something was off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he kept glancing around, searching for… something.

---

San was restless.

He should’ve been enjoying himself—Yujin was funny, and she’d been a friend for years. But no matter how hard he tried to engage in the conversation, his mind kept drifting. Where were you?

You’d been distant all evening, barely sparing him a glance. Every attempt he made to catch your attention was met with a polite, detached smile or a quick excuse to leave.

It was driving him mad.

San’s grip tightened around his drink as Yujin’s laugh pulled him back to reality. She was saying something, her voice soft, but he didn’t register a word. All he could think about was the way you had been avoiding him.

He wanted to call out to you, but you were with Wooyoung again, laughing loudly at something he’d said. San’s chest tightened, an unfamiliar burn spreading through him.

His thoughts spiraled as Yujin leaned closer, resting a hand on his arm. “San,” she purred, her voice cutting through the haze, “you’re so distracted. Is it me, or is there something else on your mind?”

Before he could respond, you passed by, your laughter with Wooyoung ringing clear. San froze, his gaze snapping to you. Without thinking, he stepped forward.

“Hey, wait—”

Wooyoung turned, flashing him a grin. “What’s up, San?”

San barely glanced at him, his blurry eyes locked on you. “Can I talk to—”

“She’s busy,” Wooyoung cut in, his tone light but firm. He threw you a quick glance, silently asking if you wanted to stay.

You didn’t.

“I’ll catch you later,” you muttered, brushing past San without meeting his eyes.

“Wait.”

His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist before you could escape. Your pulse leaped beneath his touch, but you still refused to look at him, quickly glancing at Yujin and her pouting, holding San's arm.

“What’s going on?” San asked, his voice a mixture of frustration and desperation. “Why are you avoiding me?”

The question hung heavy in the air, but before you could answer, Yujin’s voice rang out. “San! You aren't even listening to me...”

You stiffened, the sound slicing through whatever resolve you’d had left.

“Let go,” you said, your voice cold as you tugged your arm free. “Go back to her.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, but Wooyoung did. He hesitated, torn between following you and staying behind to let San step in.

“Wooyoung, don’t—”

San’s voice cracked, and when Wooyoung turned back, he saw something raw in his friend’s expression.

“Let me go after her, please.”

---

You were outside before you realized it, the cool night air biting at your skin. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried to push down the wave of anger and hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. She was touching his arm again, holding it like it was her's. Like he was her's.

Why did it have to hurt this much?

“Wait!”

San’s voice shattered your thoughts, and you turned just in time to see him stumble toward you, his steps unsteady.

“Go back inside, San,” you said sharply.

“No.” His voice was firm despite the slur in his words. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

You scoffed, turning away. “You’re drunk. This isn’t the time.”

“I don’t care.”

Suddenly, he was in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as he forced you to face him. His eyes, glassy with alcohol, bore into yours.

“Why are you ignoring me?” he demanded. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything!” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “That’s the problem, San. You didn’t do anything, and you don’t even see...”

“See what?”

You hesitated, the weight of your feelings pressing down on you, looking down.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, trying to pull away. “Just let it go.”

“No.” His grip tightened, his voice breaking. “It matters to me. You matter to me.” He took a deep breathing, tilting his head. “Can you at least look at me...please.”

Your heart lurched as you looked up, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “You don’t get it, San. You’re always with her, laughing and smiling like she’s the only person in the world. And I—”

Your voice cracked, and you looked away.

“And you what?” he whispered, his tone softening.

“And I can’t stand it,” you admitted, the words barely audible.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then San let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding down to your wrists.

“You’re jealous,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You think I care about Yujin like that?”

“Don’t you?”

“No!” The force of his answer startled you, and you looked up to find him staring at you with an intensity that stole your breath.

“It’s you,” he said hoarsely, his hands shaking while holding your wrists. “It’s always been you.”

Your mind reeled, the confession sinking in.

“But—”

“No buts,” he cut in, his voice trembling. “I’ve been losing my mind all night because you wouldn’t even look at me. You have no idea how much I—”

He broke off, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I’m in love with you.”

The words hung between you, heavy and unshakable.

“‘You… what?’” you repeated, staring at him like he’d just sprouted a second head.

“I said,” San slurred, his voice louder now, “I’m in love with you. And I’ve been losing my mind all night because you’ve been ignoring me! It’s driving me CRAZY!”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the outburst. “San, you’re drunk—”

“Drunk, yes,” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “But I’m also telling the truth! Do you have any idea how many times I tried to talk to you tonight?!”

“San—”

“Seven!” he exclaimed, as he held up what looked like five fingers, his other hand still busy holding you. “Seven times! And every single time, you just… just walked away like I didn’t exist!”

Despite yourself, you snorted. “I didn’t walk away seven times.”

“Yes, you did!” He leaned closer, his expression equal parts pitiful and desperate. “And it hurt. It hurt.”

“Oh, come on—”

“No, I’m serious!” He pointed at his chest, his finger poking himself a little harder than intended. “Right here. It hurt right here. Every time you ignored me, I thought, ‘Wow. I must’ve done something terrible. Maybe I insulted her by accident?’ But no, you just hate me now for no reason!”

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered, fidgeting with your fingers.

“You sure?” His tone was suspicious, but there was an undeniable softness in his eyes as he stared at you. “Because it really felt like you hated me. Especially when you were laughing with Wooyoung. Do you like him more than me now? Is that what this is about? Is he funnier than me? More handsome? Does he have better hair?”

“San!” you interrupted, laughing despite yourself. “What are you even talking about?”

“I don’t know!” he admitted dramatically, throwing his hands in the air, finally letting go of your arm. “I’ve been spiraling all night, okay? I mean, you’re over there, looking gorgeous, and I’m stuck with Yujin... again.” He sighs dramatically. “Do you know how many times she’s tried to touch my arm tonight? Ten!”

“Ten times?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his tone heavy with indignation. “It’s like she thinks I’m some kind of… of armrest or something. And the whole time, all I wanted to do was talk to you. But nooooo, you’re busy ignoring me, laughing with Wooyoung, and looking way too good for my sanity!”

You bit back a smile, your irritation melting as you watched him rant. His cheeks were flushed, his words a little too loud, but there was a raw honesty in his drunken rambling that made your heart ache.

“San,” you said softly, cutting him off before he could spiral further.

“What?” he asked, his wide, pleading eyes meeting yours.

“I wasn’t ignoring you because I hate you. Or because of Wooyoung.”

“Then why?” His voice cracked slightly, and you could see the desperation in every inch of him.

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—with so much vulnerability—made it impossible to hold back.

“Because I was jealous, okay?” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Seeing you with her all night… it made me feel like I didn’t matter to you. Like I couldn’t compare.”

San stared at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t quite process your words.

Then, with absolutely zero grace, he blurted out, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Excuse me?” you said, your eyes narrowing.

“You’re jealous of Yujin?!” he exclaimed, looking genuinely baffled. “She’s not even my type!”

“Oh, really? And what is your type?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He blinked at you, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “You!”

Your mouth fell open, but before you could respond, he kept going, his words tumbling out in a drunken rush.

“You’re my type, okay? You’re the type. The only type. Like, if someone said, ‘Hey, San, describe your dream person!’ I’d just say your name and that would be it! So the fact that you think I care about Yujin when you’re literally right here is just… just—ugh! It’s stupid!”

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

“See?!” he said, throwing his hands up again. “Now you’re ignoring me again! I've even told you the L word and you keep ignoring me!”

“I’m not ignoring you!” you said, trying not to laugh, feeling your cheeks about to burst in flammes.

“You kind of are...” he muttered, pouting slightly.

“San.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Before he could say another word, you grabbed his face and kissed him, cutting off whatever nonsense he was about to say next.

For a moment, he froze, his brain clearly struggling to catch up. Then he melted into the kiss, his shaking hands finding their way to your waist as he pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes were wide, and his lips were parted in surprise.

“Does that clear things up?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded slowly, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it does.”

“Good.” You started to turn away, embarrassed by what you've just done, but he grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“Wait. Just to be clear, are you my girlfriend now? Or do I have to ask officially tomorrow when I’m sober?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “We’ll see how you handle your hangover first.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

[katemoneymartinsgf]

•pairings - paige bueckers x reader

•summary - reader comforts overwhelmed paige (lil paigey mentioned!)

•a/n - I wrote this late enjoy (everyone be proud i was actually writing.)

~~~~~~

The summer sun poured through the gym's large windows, illuminating the court where Paige was locked in her own world. The rhythmic sound of the basketball bouncing against the polished wooden floor echoed through the empty space, a steady beat that mirrored her determination. It was supposed to be summer break—a time for relaxation and carefree days—but here she was, drenched in sweat, pushing herself harder than ever.

You watched from the bleachers, your heart heavy with a mix of admiration and longing. Even though you had the opportunity to join her on many of her “world tour” trips this summer, you had chosen to stay back and take extra classes, hoping to lighten your course load for the next semester. You wanted to dedicate more time to the team, to be there for Paige, but the decision came at a cost. The time you could spend together felt almost nonexistent, and when you did manage to see each other, it was often in the midst of chaos.

So here you were, late at night watching her practice because you’ll take any time you can get to spend with her. 

As Paige dribbled the ball with relentless energy, you could see the weight of the world pressing down on her. Every missed shot seemed to chip away at her vibrant spirit, the frustration building in her posture. It worries you. She was so used to thriving in the spotlight, but now, the pressure of expectations loomed over her like a dark cloud. She knew this was her last year. She wants to prove herself and get a ring, but its starting to take a toll.

This was the same girl who had held your hand through sleepless nights of uncertainty. When you had to let go of your dreams of playing, it was Paige who sat with you on the bleachers, her laughter a soothing balm against the ache of loss. She would bring you snacks during practice, just seeing her smile while walking up to you changed your mood for the day. With every shared secret and late-night conversation, your friendship had blossomed into something deeper, a love that felt like coming home.

The day she had asked you out was etched in your memory—a perfect mix of nervous laughter and hopeful glances. Under the stars, with the distant sounds of campus life swirling around you, she had leaned in, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and sincerity. “So, what do you say? Want to be my girlfriend?” It had been a simple question, but the weight of it had felt monumental. From that moment on, you were inseparable.

Yet, in your heart, you knew that love wasn’t measured by time spent but by the moments that made you feel alive. And watching her now, it hurt to see the vibrant girl you adored caught in a cycle of pressure and performance, yearning for her to find her way back to the joy that first drew you to her.

“Hey, P!” you called out, trying to keep your tone light, hoping to pull her back from the edge. “How about a quick break love? I brought snacks!” You said pulling up the bag of strawberry tru fru from your bag

She paused, glancing over with a hint of a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe in a bit,  I’m gonna get it eventually!” Her cheerful demeanor felt forced, the strain beneath it cutting deep.

You stood, your heart racing as you approached her, sensing the tipping point was close. “No, seriously. You’ve been going at it for hours, and you look like you might explode.”

With a slight chuckle, she brushed it off. “I’m good, Just need to get in the zone.”

“Good? You look anything but,” you replied gently, stepping closer. “I’ve seen you play baby I know you’re better than this, you aren’t gonna get anywhere if you are in your head. Talk to me.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her gaze drifting to the floor, the conflict in her expression visible. You knew that she held a lot inside, and it was time for her to let it out.

“Please, Paige,” you pressed softly, your eyes meeting hers. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

she hesitated for a moment, her grip on the ball tightening as she took a deep breathe.

“I'm tired,” Paige admitted, and you could see the walls she had built around herself start to come down. Her shoulders slumped as she set the ball down on the floor, the tension in her body easing just a bit. “Traveling is great, and I’m so lucky and fortunate for everything I have and am able to do. But I’m so tired. I feel like I barely even have time to process my thoughts,between practice, being gone, and with all the drama going on online right now with the team. and sometimes it feels like there’s a weight in my mind—if that even makes sense.”

You felt a pang in your heart at her words. You felt guilty knowing that she was trying to take this on all alone. She sank onto the floor, legs slightly apart, the energy that usually surrounded her dimming. You bent down in front of her, placing your hands gently on her knees. “Then let me hold it.”

“Huh?” she replied, surprise flickering in her eyes.

“Some of this weight on your mind, P. I need you to tell me when things are getting heavy and too much,” you urged softly, your gaze locked onto hers, hoping to convey the sincerity of your words.

She shook her head, a hint of defiance in her voice. “You don’t need that,” she insisted, standing up and dusting herself off. “On top of school, what you do for the team, and everything you do for me, the last thing you need is my shit on top of that.”

You were baffled by her response. “Baby, what are you talking about? You do so much for me, and you think what you bring to this relationship isn’t enough? I’m here because I want to be, not out of obligation. Let me help you.”

Her eyes softened, but there was still a flicker of hesitation. “It’s just—I feel like I’m not giving you enough in return. You do so much for me; the least I could do is figure my shit out by myself.” Her voice cracked, her tongue poking at her cheek as she tried to keep her composure, her head falling slightly.

“Oh, my love…” you murmured, pulling her in for a hug.

Nothing was said for a moment as you held her tight, feeling the tension in her body slowly ease as she wrapped her arms around you, sinking into your touch. You pulled away slightly, your hands taking her face in your palms, gently lifting her gaze to meet yours.

“Paige, you don’t have to repay me for the things I do for you. I do them because I love you, and I don’t expect anything in return. There is nothing more fulfilling than the love you give me. I want all of you, Paige—the good and the bad. So let me take some of the burden off your mind, baby. You won’t owe me anything. Loving me the way you do is payment enough.”

Tears glistened in her eyes as she took a shaky breath, her lips trembling into a small smile. “You really mean that?”

“Always,” you replied, your thumb brushing gently across her cheek.

A wave of relief washed over her as she melted into you, the warmth of your embrace enveloping her like a cozy blanket. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Seriously, you’re my rock.”

‘’I got you, baby, through everything,” you said gently, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips, which she returned gladly.

She pulled away, searching your eyes before a mischievous smile crept across her face. “Everything?” she questioned, and you nodded hesitantly.

“Even my struggling rap career?” She joked 

you pushed away, but she held you tight.

“Shut up, P.”

“I would appreciate it if you addressed me as Lil Paigey,” she shot back, her eyes sparkling with playful defiance.

“Yeah, not happening. Good try, though.” You placed another kiss on her nose before breaking free from her grasp and grabbing the ball.

“Maybe if you beat me in a game of horse…” you challenged, a playful grin on your face.

She took that as a dare, snatching the ball from your hands. “Okay, but I'll go first!” she declared, walking toward the court with a bright smile.

Your heart eased at the sight of your girl radiating happiness, the stress that had weighed her down fading away. This was the moment you’d been hoping for—her laughter echoing in the gym, bringing a sense of normalcy and joy to both of you.

~~~

lmk if you like, it’s how i decide if i’m gonna write more this week :)

[freshxsturniolo]

haunted jealousy - chris sturniolo x femreader

summary : you had been a sam and colby fan for years and when they asked the triplets to film with them, your boyfriend chris could not wait to tell you and bring you along for the weekend. it was also common knowledge that colby was your biggest "celebrity" crush, but chris thinks nothing of it until you actually met and start to get along, and his jealousy takes over him.

mentions / warnings : fluff. smut. slight angst? swearing. pet names.

"are you not scared that your boyfriend might be about to get possessed?" chris says, throwing his arm around your neck as he walks by your side to the restaurant you were planning on meeting sam and colby.

you look up at chris as his fingers graze your shoulder, his other hand in the pocket of his hoodie.

"youre a pain in my ass now, never mind possessed." you joke, and he pushes away from you in a joking manor.

"might mean you can run off into the distance with colby" he said, a joking grin on his face as he came in front of you, walking backwards as you continued to step forward into him.

"with any luck" you joke, and you laugh as chris slams his hands to his heart, letting out a cry.

it was no secret you had had a crush on colby brock since you first found their channel, way back before chris and his brothers had even started their channel, way before you and chris even considered their could be anything more than friendship between the two of you. colby was your "celebrity fantasy" if you will, and your guilty pleasure. chris loved to tease you on it all the time, but it was always in jest.

"we're here" matt shouts from in front of you, and chris turns around, coming to a stop so you accidentally walk straight into him.

"fuck" you whisper, stepping back, and he turns to grab your hand, laughing once he realises youre not hurt. your relationship with chris was always like this. making jokes, having banter, being the best of friends. but he was in every single heartbeat your loving, caring, boyfriend too.

you step to the side, gripping chris' hand in yours as you walk across to both matt and nick, as you stand and wait for sam and colby to arrive. tomorrow, they would be filming their video, where they go and investigate a popular haunted hotel, but tonight they wanted to formally meet for the first time. they had all been sending messages back and forth for the last few months, so they already felt like friends. of course, you were just the little tag along that wanted to be involved, but when chris' had made everyone aware you were coming, they were more than happy.

after a few minutes of waiting, your eyes finally land on the blonde and brunette walking towards you. it felt weird to be excited, but it equally felt weird your boyfriend and best friend where fast becoming friends with them too. once they reach you, they all dap each other up, a chorus of hellos, how are yous, how was the flights, before chris introduces you.

you say hello to them both, both of them coming in to give you a hug.

"shes a huge fan" chris chuckled behind you.

"chris" you give him an eye as you pull away from your hug with colby, looking back at him to see him laughing down at you.

"we appreciate it" colby says, and you give him a nod before he turns and walks into the restaurant.

its super lowkey, not many people in, but its lovely all the same. as you take your seats, chris sitting to your left, you cant help but be shocked when colby sits beside you and you give him a smile. checking the menu you all order food and drinks, before sam starts to tell the triplets exactly what it is they'll be doing tomorrow. youre invested, of course, being a fan of sam and colby and genuinely interested in their content, but youre caught off guard when you hear colbys voice.

"what are you doing tomorrow?" he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

"whilst you're acting ghost busters?" you joke, and he coughs on his drinks which makes you laugh, before giving you a nod. "ive bought plenty of books to keep me occupied. i know you guys film until early hours so i'll probably try get some sleep before they all come bouncing in." you laugh, and colby laughs with you.

"chris says youre a huge fan?" colby says now, and you give your boyfriend a side eye before turning back to colby.

"i swear im not crazy. ive just watched you for so many years, this just all feels a little surreal" you admit. but before you know it, you're chatting away like you'd met a thousand times. your food comes and you slowly pick your way at it, listening to stories from videos they had never put out, or things they've seen when they aren't even filming, your eyes widening the more and more he speaks. before you know it, you're laughing and joking with him and you realise you haven't paid attention to anyone else in the room. when colby announces he's going to the bathroom, you turn around to face the rest of the boys youre seated with. matt and nick are still having a conversation with sam, who looks at you and gives you a smile, but when you look to your side to give a smile to your boyfriend, you can tell his entire mood has changed from what it was earlier.

"you okay, babe?" you ask. and he snaps his head to look at you.

"hmm? oh, yeah. im good." he says, picking up a fry from his plate and nibbling at the end.

"not nervous for tomorrow, are you?" you give his shoulder a little shove, and finally a smile appears on his lips.

"no" he says. "just thinkin."

"about what?" you press, but before he can answer you hear colbys voice again from behind you.

"i paid the bill guys."

"oh god, how much do we owe you?" you say. he smiles at you.

"dont worry about it!" he says enthusiastically before sitting himself down, leaning over slightly so he can see chris.

"your girl knows a lot about ghosts" he says, and you look to chris with a smile who gives a chuckle.

"shes probably watched your videos a thousand times, bro" he says, giving, and then the two start talking comfortably, you sat in the middle, looking between the two of them and having your say every now and then.

when the night draws to an end, and you all say your goodbyes to go to your own separate hotels, colby gives you a hug.

"so lovely to meet you," he says, as he pulls away he puts his hands on your shoulders. "i'll find you on instagram and give you a follow. chris tagged you in some stuff, yeah?"

you let out a laugh. "yeah! please dont feel you need to" you laugh, and he gives you that famous colby side eye.

"youre a friend now" he laughs, giving your shoulders a slight tap before he moves to say goodbye to everyone else.

when they turn to walk away, nick is the first to come to your side, wrapping his arm in yours. "girl, did you fucking hear what we are doing tomorrow?" he says, and you laugh as you pull yourself closer to him, his warmth a comfort in the winter chill outside.

"yes. are you nervous?" you say, starting to head in the direction of your hotel.

nick starts to talk about how excited he is, the things he wants to do, the things he hopes to see, that you dont even notice when you get to the front of their hotel.

"chris," nick says, and you turn around to catch the eye of your boyfriend as he chats away to matt. "are you coming to our room?" he says, giving you a smile as he does so. you smile back and look to chris for an answer, but the look on his face already tells you its a no.

"im tired." he says, and you hear nick let out an "oh" before turning to you.

"i suppose you wont leave your knight in shining armour for an hour to keep me company, will you?" he says, a pleading look on his face. you have to admit that with the adrenaline from the last couple of hours, you were defiantly not ready for sleep yet, but chris speaks for you.

"no. shes coming with me." he says, and you screw up your face as you look towards him. chris had never been demanding, and you had spent many times with his brothers without him, but the look he was giving you now, you knew there was nothing wrong.

"i guess i'll see you tomorrow then." nick says, giving you a hug. you hug him back before making your way to matt, giving him a hug too, before chris comes over and grabs your hand, practically pulling you in the direction of the hallway that your separate room was.

"ouch, chris. whats wrong with you?" you ask, and the tone to your voice makes him loosen his grip.

"nothing. sorry. im just tired" he says as you get outside of your room. you take the key from your purse and unlock the door, stepping inside and throwing your purse down.

you let out a stretch, a small moan coming from your lips, before you move over to your bag to get out one comfier clothes. you hear chris slam onto the bed and you turn to look at him, his eyes on you as he places his hands behind his head.

"chris, whats wrong? and dont say nothing" you say, a stern look on your face. he chuckles.

"nothing. im sorry. honestly i am. its been a long day" he admits, and you give him a sympathetic smile as you see the bags already forming under his eyes. luckily, filming wasnt until tomorrow night, so you had the whole of the next day to catch up on sleep.

you turn away from him now and slide your jeans down your legs before you hear your phone tumble to the floor. "fuck" you whisper, as you forgot you'd put it in your back pocket rather than your purse, and you bend down to pick it up, the home screen illuminating from the fall.

"oh," you laugh, turning round to face chris and making your way across to the bed, throwing yourself down on it so you were on your front, nothing but one of chris' fresh love hoodies on your body now. "colby actually followed me. and sam" you say, opening up your phone to double check the notifications.

but chris snaps. whatever had been bothering him suddenly become too much, and he stands up off the bed in a huff, walking over to the bathroom and slamming the door. you watch in astonishment, waiting for the bathroom door to open up again, and after a moment when it doesnt, you take your way over to it, knocking lightly.

"chris?" you say, but it takes not even a second before the door is flung open. you stumble back in surprise, chris with one hand on the door handle, the other on the side of the frame.

"you're mine, you know that don't you?" he says, and you almost laugh.

"excuse me?" you choke out, looking him up and down. he does the same back.

"you're mine." he says again. this time you do laugh.

"im so fucking confused, chris. what on earth are you talking about?"

but your laugh, and your obliviousness to what hes taking about only angers him more, and he rolls his eyes as he goes to slam the door in your face. but not before you manage to wedge your foot in the way, hand coming to the side of the door. chris spins around and looks at you, shock on his face, but the anger is still there.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" you say, pushing the door fully open now and stepping into the bathroom.

"doesnt matter" he says, turning on the tap, but you step at the side of him, turning it off.

"of course im yours, you idiot. who else's would i be?" you say, but the no answer makes you laugh as you realises exactly where he is going with this. you connect the dots immediately.

"youre joking me chris. its because i spent the night chatting to colby, isnt it?" you say, and you see his eyes screw up slightly. you laugh again. "are you jealous?" you say.

"ive heard you talk about how much you love him for years" he scoffs, eyes traipsing down your body, down to your bare legs.

"yeah, when i was fucking 16, chris. are you serious?" you laugh, but your laugh and lack of seriousness is infuriating him.

"he wanted to know what youre doing tomorrow" he says through gritted teeth.

"he was making polite conversation" you confirm, eyeing him up. you'd never seen him like this before. you had never and would never give him a reason to act like this. you loved him deeply and your eyes had never scanned for another man since.

he doesnt answer you though, and he pushes your hand away from the sink so he can turn back on the tap. you step to the side and look at him through the mirror, but he isnt letting up, and your frustration is building.

"so youre going to ignore me. because i spoke to someone ive been a genuine fan off for years. we were talking about GHOSTS, chris, do you even understand how ridiculous youre being?"

he notices the tone in your voice, and he looks at you through the reflection of the mirror, before bowing his head again to continue washing his face. you scoff in astonishment, before making your way back into the main room of the hotel. you throw yourself on the bed, picking back up your phone, when you hear chris coming back in.

"what are you doing?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"texting colby" you joke. you know its a low blow, but the frustration you feel is next level. youre actually about to text nick to see if you can stop by his and matts room for an hour, to let chris chill out, but you dont get chance before you feel the bed dip and a pair of hands on your hips, flipping you onto your back.

"chris" you squeal.

"texting colby, hmm?" he says, and then his fingers are looped in the band on your underwear, pulling them down. the heat that comes in between your legs is instant, and you know exactly where this is going to go.

"well, we were having a great conversation earlier." you say.

"oh yeah? you wanna go spend the night with him?" chris says, your underwear now at the bottom of your feet and in on swift swoop theyre in his hands, before he shoves them into his back pocket.

"well my boyfriends being a jerk, so" you start.

"didnt notice how he called you my girl?" he says now, but then his hands are on your hips and he drags you down the bed. you cant hide the gasp that escapes your lips. "well?" he asks now, dipping his head to inbetween your legs.

"didnt notice. was too busy looking at his face" you say, but your breathing is hitched.

"i'll fucking show you who's girl you are" he says, and then his tongue is in your folds and your arms outstretch instantly, gripping at the bedding.

"fuck, chris" you pant, his tongue working wonders in-between your legs, hitting all the right spots, your back arching as his teeth scrap against your folds. you move your hands to his head, pushing him further into you, before his head snaps up.

"chris-" you pant, looking down at him, but he grips both your wrists with one hand and pushes them behind your head, his entire body coming with them so his face is inches from yours in one quick swoop. you look into his eyes, and he gives you a smirk before his free hands moves down to your wet folds, fingers teasing you.

"chris-" you say again, and he lets out a deep chuckle before his fingers enter you.

"oh, god" you utter and you close your eyes as he starts to move his finger back and forth, thumb coming to your clit and rubbing gentle.

"open your eyes" he says, and you do as he says. "who's girl are you?" he says now, fingers moving more vigorously now, hitting your g-spot perfectly. when you dont say anything, unable to from the pleasure youre feeling, he stops abruptly, a small whimper escaping your lips.

"who's fucking girl are you?" he spits out.

"yours, chris. im yours" you cry out.

"good girl" he says, before his fingers start working again, pumping you so hard you're seeing stars but your eyes fixed on him, not wanting him to stop.

"im gonna-" you start, unable to finish your sentence.

"let go for me my girl" he says, and the words on his lips bring you to your climax, legs buckling and squeezing into his hand tightly as you ride it out. when you finally settle, your breathing harsh, he pulls out his finger and gently removes his hand from your wrists.

you lay, in utter bliss and also disbelief as he removes himself from your body, gathering yourself before you sit up on your elbows, looking straight at him as he walks off back into the direction of the bathroom, but before he does, he turns back to you and gives you a grin.

"i dont know about no ghosts," you start. "but that jealousy possessed you." you utter, and a laugh escapes his lips as he enters the bathroom finally.

you stand up, finally going back over to your pyjamas you'd abandoned just moments before but you hear the shower turn on, a smirk comes over you, thinking about how you're going to return the pleasure he just gave you.

[dazzlerwriting]

a long long time

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

pictures from pinterest!!

word count: 2.8k

summary: childhood best friends, who always felt a bit more about each other, finally see each other after 12 years. will all their wishes come true at the Seresin holiday party?

warnings: childhood best friends to lovers! fluff!! cheesy goodness!! no use of y/n but reader does uses she/her pronouns! pet names: sweets, sweetheart, darlin, tiny dancer. no looks are given besides an outfit!

an: this is heavily inspired by ‘Its been a long long time’ by harry james! definitely recommend listening to it while reading! can you guys tell i love when people dance together as a form of intimacy? thank you to my friends who have no clue who jake is, who proofread this. & thank you guys for all the love on my other two fics! this is incredibly new to me so to see that people like the stories is really amazing. thank you. likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated!!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Growing up, Jake Seresin was always by your side. Jake’s mom and your mom were best friends, meaning the two of you were destined to be in each other’s lives. Of course, you two went through the phases of disgust when one of you thought the other had cooties, but they never deterred your friendship. When you would fall off your bike and cry because you scraped your knee, Jake would immediately be by your side. Jake’s PeeWee football games never had a silent crowd, of course not. Little you would be right there next to his parents, screaming the loudest for him. A dance recital, nervous about your performances? Don’t worry, Jake would be right there in the front row next to both of your families, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

High school hit, and Jake became the star football player who girls and guys alike pined after. You on the other hand were a quiet theater kid, dancing still, and leading the school newspaper. Despite running in different social circles, you two were still attached at the hip. The sharp stares you received from girls who wanted Jake would burn into your head, but you never let that affect your friendship. The free time you two had was spent with each other, taking long drives when you needed to clear your head, watching new episodes of TV shows you both enjoyed, and studying together. There has always been a hint of something more between you two, but out of fear of ruining things, you never made a move. Although, there was a time during your senior year when the possibility of being something more didn’t seem as distant. You two had just taken a long drive to a field in the middle of Texas to watch the sunset. It was then that you two shared your first kiss, and then it was over, and neither of you brought it back up. You knew you had feelings for him. That wasn’t even a question. But those feelings would not outweigh your friendship, you’d rather have him in this way, than in no way at all.

When Jake got into the Naval Academy, you were ecstatic for him. He had been dreaming about getting out of here since you were little tots, and now he had his out. You got into a school an hour away for Broadcast Journalism, and he was just as excited for you. When you told him, he picked you up and spun you around, both of you reminiscing on the days when he would play with his model planes and you would pretend to report every little thing that was happening around you two. Graduation day came and went, and soon you were getting ready to send Jake on his way to Maryland.

“Don’t forget me when you become a hot shot pilot mister.” You said to him with tears in your eyes. He looked back at you with something that could only be described as melancholy and kissed your forehead, “I could never forget you tiny dancer. Plus we can still keep up with each other, and I’ll see you over the holidays!”

You two kept up with each other for the first two years of your college time, but communication became scarce. He didn’t come home for the holidays, you couldn’t blame him though. He finally got out of there, he was doing what he always wanted to do. Communication between the two of you completely went away during your junior year. You’ve kept up with him through your parents and his, and to say you were proud was an understatement.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s been 12 years since you last saw Jake Seresin. You would be lying if you said you didn’t think about him a lot of the time. After you graduated from UT at Austin, you moved back home and started to work at the local news station as an Anchor. Your free time is spent with friends, going out to bars, or just brunch together. They always hound you about finding a guy, “Come on!! You’re single, hot, and an amazing person!” “You can’t just sit here all night, come meet Tyler, I promise you’ll like him! Please?” You knew they had good intentions, with their bright smiles and kind words. So you tried. You would go out with who they wanted you to, but every time, it felt as though something was missing. You knew what was missing, you just didn’t want to admit it. Seasons change but you don’t think your feelings for those

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The holiday season is always your favorite time of year. From October to January, you feel lighter. Walking around to see decorations everywhere, families laughing together, and hot apple cider to warm the now-cold Texas air. Work is busy, but you can’t complain, you love your job. Recently you covered a story about a baker and her husband who had just celebrated the 30th anniversary of their bakery by having the cutest reindeer cookies and a huge cake for everyone who may want a slice.

Tonight is the annual Seresin family Christmas party, and just like every other year, you hold on to hope that Jake will be there. You know it’s a stretch, but you can’t help but be hopeful.

You bought a new outfit just for tonight, a red cable knit sweater, a black mini-skirt with black transparent tights, and black leather boots that went up to your calves. After adding some touch-ups to your makeup, you decided you were ready to go, grabbed your purse, and headed towards the Seresin’s house. It was about a 5-minute walk from your new place, which is quite convenient, and you spent the entire walk with your head in the clouds, daydreaming about the pilot who stole your heart all those years ago.

Walking into the house you spent so much time at as a child, a sense of warmth feels you. The entire house smells like freshly baked cookies, Christmas lights twinkle along the hallway, and the sounds of laughter and soft Christmas music fills your ears. Mama Seresin sees you and you are immediately engulfed in a hug that could probably fix anybody who is on the receiving side of it. “Oh my goodness look at you!!! You get more beautiful each time I see you.” You felt your face heat up instantly, shying away a bit from her kind words. “Thank you mama Seresin. I’m happy to be here again, happy holidays.” She pulled back and had an incredulous look on her face.

“Thank me?? Sweetheart, you are welcome at this house any day, any time. Make yourself at home, tonight should be a wonderful night.” She winked at you and left you standing there in the entryway.

After making your rounds, you grabbed yourself a drink and sat on the couch watching “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” with one of Jake’s sisters. She kept looking over at you with a sly smirk on her face so you snapped, “What is going on with y’all tonight? First your mama winks at me, Elizabeth said she was ‘So excited’ for me tonight, and now you can’t stop looking at me like the cat who caught the canary! So what is going on?” With an exasperated look on your face, you fully turn to look at her. Charlotte just slides off the couch and smiles, “We’re just happy to see you and we are hoping you have a great time tonight.” With the cryptic answer said, she walks away leaving you to sit there in your skepticism.

After an hour or so, everyone has made it and dinner is about to be served. At least you thought everyone had made it, that is until you hear a knock on the door. Mama Seresin rushes to open it, and you lean over the arm of the couch to see who it is. You can’t tell if it's the winter air or who you see standing there, but a chill runs down your spine. In all his glory, Jake Seresin is standing there with several suitcases and a bright smile on his face. Taking him in, you notice he’s grown into himself in the last 12 years, His sandy blonde hair isn’t as long, he’s filling in the brown button-up shirt very nicely, and he’s grown at least 3 inches since you last saw him. He’s still got his cowboy boots on and a smile that could light up a room, so not everything has changed. Finally, you look back up to his face, and you lock eyes with the man who has never left your mind.

You stand, mouth agape, and the two of you finally make your way to each other. You meet in the middle of the entryway, and as soon as his arms are around you it’s like everybody and everything fades away. You stay there in the comfort of each other’s arms for a few more seconds and when you finally pull away, the sounds from the rest of the house fade back in. Looking at each other, you feel a warmth creeping up your neck, the chill from earlier has fully disappeared. “Hi,” you said with a shy smile as you fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve. “Hi sweetheart,” he replies with the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. The moment is broken when someone clears their throat behind you, “Dinner is ready.” You turn and see the Seresin women standing there with smirks across all of their faces. Looking back at Jake you realize he’s got a scowl on his face, and you just giggle a bit. At the sound of your giggle, he looks back at you, the scowl being replaced with a shy smile, “We can talk after dinner?” You nod your head and make your way toward the dining room.

Dinner is the most delicious thing, but you would never expect anything less from Mama Seresin. She always cooks things with love, which makes things 10,000 times better. Once you get turned away from helping with dishes, you make your way outside to get some air. It’s a bit chilly, the backyard is decorated with lights strung across the way, the music from inside the house carries softly across the yard although it’s muffled, and stars are shining so bright in the night sky. You see a plane fly across the sky and you huff out a laugh, realizing your dreams of seeing Jake again, came true tonight. At least you know why the family acted so odd tonight. You take a seat in one of the cushy chairs sat up in the backyard, and stare up at the sky.

Surely Jake didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight, Has he changed a lot? Did he miss you as much as you missed him? Was your pining so obvious to everyone that they sat this up? Your mind starts spiraling with thoughts, and a bit of nervous tension sets in as you sit out there. The music gets less muffled for a second, meaning someone has just opened the back door, but it’s quickly snuffed back out. You don’t bother to turn your head, your mind is busy with so many questions. In your peripheral, you see the man on your mind take a seat next to you. He looks up at the sky and you can feel the nervousness roll off of you both as you sit there.

You turn to look at him, right as he turns to look at you, and you both sit there taking each other in for a second. “So-” “It was-” You both start trying to talk simultaneously and once you realize, you both start giggling. You nod your head to tell him he can go first, and with a shy smile he rubs the back of his neck and says, “It was nice to see you again sweetheart, I was really hoping you’d be here.” That warmth from earlier creeps back up your neck, and you smile softly at him. “I was hoping you’d be here too cowboy.” You both just sit there with smiles, and after a few beats of silence you add quietly, “I missed you.” What you could only call longing, flashes in his eyes, before he smiles at you, “I missed you too tiny dancer.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation. He tells you all about the Naval Academy, and how he is the “best of the best,” which you don’t doubt. Once he sets his mind on something, he doesn’t give up. You learn he’s living out in San Diego, but he constantly misses the Texas skyline. You tell him all about your experience at UT at Austin, and how your job at the local news station is going. You both continue just telling each other what you’ve both missed out on.

At some point, the conversation shifts to relationships. You take a deep breath and ask, “So do you have anyone special waiting for you back in California?” He takes a minute to just look at you before responding, “No sweetheart, I don’t. Do you have anyone missing you tonight?” You let out your breath at the word “no,” and chuckle. “The only person missing me tonight is my fish, Mr. Speckle.” He throws back his head and barks out a laugh at that, before looking back at you with a wide smile. It shifts to a bit of an apprehensive smile before he asks, “Is there any reason? You’re a gorgeous girl who is amazing sweetheart, I’m sure guys are lining up for a date with you.”

You knew you could try and lie to him, but he knows you too well. He would immediately figure you out, so you shake your head and respond truthfully. “I’ve tried over the years. But every single time, it didn’t feel right. Something was always missing. It took me a while to realize what that was.”

“And what was that?” His face is a bit more hopeful now, or maybe you’re just going crazy. After a moment of just looking into his eyes, you turn to fidget with your sweater and finally speak. “They weren’t you Jake.” It came out softer than you thought it would. The silence surrounds you like a suffocating room, and panic starts to claw its way up your throat.

You’re about to apologize profusely when Jake finally speaks. “That’s why I don’t have anyone waiting for me sweets. They weren’t you. The gorgeous girl I’ve known since diapers, who has always been so caring. Who put others before herself. The girl who knows me and my family, and still chooses to be around us.” You stare at him with wide eyes, trying to absorb everything that was just said. Softly, you reply, “I will always choose you, Jake. The boy who didn’t let me go to bed upset. The boy who constantly cheered me on in everything I did. The boy who set his sights on something and chased it. ” Your chest feels lighter, while your heart beats at a lightspeed rate.

Looking at Jake, he has a boyish grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck again. In the blink of an eye, he is in front of you with his hand held out. You look at him like you’re considering your options for a second, just to make him sweat a bit, but ultimately you take his hand with an affectionate smile. He pulls you close and wraps his arms around your waist, your arms going around his neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. The two of you dance to the muffled music coming from inside, under the twinkling lights of the backyard you’ve spent so much time in over the years. You look up at him to find him already staring at you. He’s got a look of love in his eyes, and you’re sure he sees the same look in yours.

“So can I take you out tomorrow sweetheart? I should’ve asked you that years ago.” He asks with a smirk across his lips. You mirror his smirk as you respond, “You sure can cowboy. We have a lot of time to make up for.” You both slowly lean in, and your lips meet in a short kiss that makes fireworks go off in your stomach. You both pull away, but that one kiss isn’t enough. The two of you share another short kiss, before breaking out into a long deep kiss. He dips you a bit with this one. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of has come true under the twinkling lights. You’ll have to make sure to send the Seresin women some cookies and flowers for planning this.

From inside the house, the Seresin family is silently cheering. They’ve watched both of you pine after each other for so long, they knew y’all just needed a bit of a push in the right direction.

[earthfire-75]

Demons have needs too

Genre: Dragon Age Veilguard

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook de Riva, Spite x Rook , Spite!Lucanis, female!Rook, Named Rook, otherwise, non descript

Warnings: smut, just smut PWP , knife play?, no blood, demon possession, dub-con

Notes: purple italics are Spite's thoughts/speaking

Wherein we wonder if Spite isn't actually a Desire demon...

Luna sighed and dragged herself out of bed. Heading into the kitchen, she found Lucanus’ coffee maker next to the stove. She smiled to herself, making herself a cup and a fried egg sandwich for breakfast, then she would head to the training room, where she would also likely find Lucanis. She leaned against the doorway as she watched him, jumping a little when he spoke without looking at her.

“You are improving, my friend. I almost did not hear you.”

Friend? Not friend. Want!

She hid the sadness she felt at his use of friend. She desires so much more than his friendship, had since the last time they had seen each other. But she had only been a teenager then. Now, seeing him again, she knows what she feels isn't infatuation. There is a sexual tension that comes with their sparring, however, and she needs to be careful. She's certain Lucanis Dellamorte is neither ready for any sort of romance yet, nor interested in her that way to begin with.

“Almost only counts in playing horseshoes,” she teased.

“And hand grenades. Or so I ‘ve heard.”

Lucanis turned around, finally facing the girl…no, woman…entertaining the training room. He remembers the teenager he last met years ago. She was beautiful then, but now? Now she made his heart race and his cock twitch, for Makers sake. Now he both looked forward to and dreaded their sparring. The sexual tension it brought…he wanted to …do things to her...

Fuck her, the demon supplied in a whisper. Make her ours! Spite breathed in deep. Smells like…lavender dipped in honey.

Lucanis, for his part, does his best to ignore the demon, giving Luna a smile that's meant to be reassuring as he withdraws his daggers from their sheaths. “Ready for our sparring session, my Moon?” It's a slip, one he deliberately does not acknowledge, in hopes that she missed it. But of course she does not. Still, Luna says nothing, refusing to believe he meant it in the way her heart wishes he did.

* *

He had her pinned against the wall, hands above her head, his dagger pressed firmly against the hollow of her throat. His eyes were ablaze with something she dare not name and something more sinister as he started her down.

Fuck her! The demon was worked up now, more difficult to ignore.

Pretty. Pretty tits, pretty pussy.

Never kissed, never touched

Wants, needs, aches. Aches for us!

The demon tightens their grip on Luna’s wrists. Their eyes drop to her breasts, sliding the blade from her throat down to the first button of her shirt.

We want, we need.

Throb, pulse, ache. Ache for her!

“Lucanis?”

A deep growl - Take, claim, taste, fuck!

Ours! All ours! Fuck her or we will!

At the first sign of hesitation, Spite growls in frustration, shoving Lucanis' consciousness to the side, but not down. The demon wanted its host to remember this.

“We want to see those pretty tits.” The voice that came out of Lucanis was not entirely his own and Luna swallowed around something stuck in her throat as the hand holding his dagger flicked, sending the first button flying. The second and third aren't far behind as Luna's breasts rise and fall heavily.

“Pretty Moon. We won’t hurt you. Well, maybe a little, but we think you'll like.,” the demon spoke as it continued to flick away at the remaining buttons. “But we won't deny ourselves anymore. We want you wrapped around our cock. Not our fist.”

The blade slides back up, between her breasts, cuts through the lacings of her bra, then uses it to move the shirt away from her breasts, exposing them completely. They circle her left breast with the dagger, spiraling closer and closer to Luna's tightening nipple.

“Such lovely, perfect tits.” Spite takes her nipple between its teeth, rolling it until pleasure borders pain.

“We want to tell you, but Lucanis is a coward. Big scary assassin can't tell the pretty how much we want to feel her tits, suck her nipples and ram our cock into her dripping cunt over and over until she's screaming our name, drunk on the absolute fucking we’ll l give her.”

The demon takes the blade to her right breast, offering up the same treatment as its twin. “But no, he leaves that for me to do. So We'll tell you every dirty thing we want to do to you.”

Luna hated herself for it, but she couldn't stop herself from squirming, squeezing her thighs together, arching her breasts forward and moaning as her nipples hardened and her pussy pulsed with desire. The demon breathed in deep, taking in her scent and picking up on her sweet arousal. It dropped their eyes to her still covered bottom half. With the dagger still in hand, the demon cut the ties holding Luna's pants up and watched them fall to her ankles before swiftly and carefully cutting off her panties at the hips.

It slides the blade up her thigh from knee to apex, watching goosebumps form all over her skin, making her nipples tighten even more and a gush of desire floods her. The demon gathers some on the blade carefully, as if gathering something precious. “ We want to taste you,” it whispers before licking her gathered juices from the blade, slow and sensual.

“To fuck you with our tongue and fingers. To fill your dripping, aching cunt in every way you’ll let him…Let us.”

The demon drops the dagger, lifting Lucanis' hand to cup her breast, lowering his head and swirling his tongue around her npple, nipping at the sensitive bud just to hear her cry out, to make another gush of arousal slide down the insides of her thighs.

“We've wanted you like this the longest. Every time we've sparred together, we’ve imagined fucking you into the wall after. Your tits bouncing in our face, your aching cunt squeezing tight around our equally aching cock.” It finally pressed their cock into her thigh as he kicked her legs apart, making her fuck their leg as she feels just how hard they are.

“We’ve imagined bending you over the kitchen table, our hand twisted in your hair, fucking you senseless from behind, not caring who might walk in and see it. Imagined tying you to your bed, legs spread as far apart as possible, arms above your head as you are now, helpless, dripping, begging as blade and tongue trace the shape of your perfect body, especially your tits. Maker, we really love your tits…then we bury our fingers deep into your cunt until you scream out your first and second orgasms. And then, of you’re a really good girl, we fuck your cunt with our cock.” It pressed said cock harder into her thigh to punctuate the point.

It shifted their hips just enough to be right next to her apex and began dry humping. The hand cupping her breast now pinching and pulling at her nipple. It swirled their tongue around the opposite nipple before closing their lips around the hard bud and sucking. The action made Luna moan and her hips jerk. “Please,” she begged, “Lucanis, please…”

“Shhhh, little Moon. Lucanis is…present enough. Point of no return, Pretty. Let us take care of you, let us fuck you, little Moon. Let us…” Frustratingly, the demon found it's host had more influence on them than they thought. They couldn't just fuck her like they wanted. Not without permission.

“Yes!” She couldn't take anymore teasing. Tears stung her eyes thinking her weakness now damned them both, but her hips begged the demon to take her, to fuck her in the ways it described. In a moment she felt the heaviness of his cock before it was teasing at her entrance and sliding all too easily into her, stretching her, filling her.

It did not ease the aching, but heightened it, her cries of pleasure/pain growing louder with each thrust. The demon growls, releasing her wrists to grip her hips in both hands, practically bouncing her on their cock, manipulating how she squeezes around it. She has to grip their shoulders to hold herself up.

“Please…” Luna angles herself to lean back a bit. “I need…” She feels them reach between her legs, thumb finding her clit and rubbing hard, rough circles into it and her pitch becomes higher as she now fucks herself on their cock.

They watch, in awe of her even as they chase their own orgasm. Indeed her breasts bounce, her face twisted in pleasure, sacred and profane all at once. A final thrust of their hips and she screamed out their name as predicted. But their own release comes with a whimper as they bury their head into the crook of her neck.

“You could bring us to our knees, little Moon. You could bring a demon to its knees…”

[gilbertscurls]

heyy so i got this request idk if you will like it but yk the song Margaret by lana del rey so its about her friends being in love so i have the same idea but like its with Madison beer and she is interviewed and they ask her about a new song and she tells its about Chris and reader whom she is friends with and describes how the song is about them

hope you like it!! <3

When You Know, You Know ➵ Chris Sturniolo

The interview room was buzzing with excitement, the studio lights casting a soft glow over Madison as she sat comfortably in the plush chair, adjusting the microphone clipped to her shirt. The interviewer, a lively woman with a bright smile, had just asked the question that would send a ripple through the room and beyond—one that would inevitably reach you, and Chris too.

“So, Madison,” the interviewer began, her tone light but filled with curiosity, “we’ve been hearing a lot about this new song of yours, Margaret. The fans are really intrigued. Is there a personal story behind it?”

Madison chuckled, leaning back a little as she allowed a playful smirk to tug at her lips. She took a moment, glancing at the camera, as if she was trying to gather her thoughts, before she spoke.

“Well, I’ve got to admit,” she began with a teasing tone, “the song is about some of my closest friends. You see, Chris and Y/N—” She looked directly into the camera, a knowing glint in her eyes, “—have always had this… connection. It’s one of those things where everyone around you can see it but the two of you are too stubborn to admit it.”

The interviewer leaned forward, eager for more. “So it’s about Chris and... Y/N?”

Madison nodded, her smile widening. “Yeah. It’s a love story, but not in the typical sense. It’s about two people who know they’re meant to be together, but can’t quite figure out how to get there. Or maybe, they’re just afraid of how much it means, you know?”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it—people talking about the way you and Chris seemed to orbit around each other, like two stars destined to be in the same galaxy but always just a little too far apart to collide.

The first time it happened, you laughed it off, chalking it up to just your close friendship with him. After all, you’d known each other for years. The teasing came from everyone, from mutual friends to even strangers who could sense there was something more in the air whenever you and Chris were together.

But now, hearing Madison’s words in front of the world, you felt a twinge in your chest. The truth was, you’d always known. You knew that something was there, something unspoken, something deep—but you were both too afraid to put a name to it.

Madison continued speaking, unaware of the emotional swell beginning to rise in your heart.

“I mean, it’s clear as day,” she said, her eyes glinting with humor. “When Chris met Y/N, he was just sitting there, like, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ And the way he looked at her, it was like he could already picture the rest of his life unfolding, and it scared the hell out of him. He had these flashes of the good life with her.”

Madison paused, letting out a quiet laugh as she leaned forward, her expression suddenly more sincere. “But here’s the thing. When you know, you know. That’s the thing about love—when you find it, you don’t have to second-guess it. You just have to take the plunge.”

You and Chris sat on the couch at his apartment a few hours later, the air between you thicker than usual, despite the usual casual chatter. Chris had insisted on making popcorn, throwing in a few too many kernels, and now both of you sat in the middle of a mess of popped corn and half-emptied bowls.

“I just watched Madison’s interview,” you said, breaking the silence. You leaned back against the cushions, picking at the popcorn, trying to distract yourself from the sudden heat on your face.

Chris turned to look at you, his eyebrow quirking in amusement. “You did, huh?” he said, his voice light but there was something underneath it—a hint of unease that you couldn't quite place.

You glanced at him, your heart racing. “Yeah, I did. So… you’ve been thinking about me like that?”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to the window before meeting your eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to navigate this territory.

“I didn’t exactly tell her what I think, but…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s true though, right? About us?”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle around you like an undeniable truth. The truth you’d been avoiding for so long.

“Chris…” You let out a shaky breath. “I—I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out, too. I thought you’d get it. I thought you knew.”

He shifted closer, the space between you now almost nonexistent. His voice was quieter now, the playful teasing gone, replaced with something deeper, something more vulnerable. “I think I’ve known for a long time. But I was scared. Scared of messing this up. Messed up a lot of things in my life… But this? You? I don’t want to screw it up.”

Your eyes softened, and without thinking, you reached out, placing your hand on his. It felt like a simple gesture, but in that moment, it spoke volumes.

“I think we’ve already figured it out,” you whispered. “Maybe we were just waiting for the right moment.”

Chris nodded slowly, his fingers lacing with yours. “Maybe we were.”

And for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

There was no more running, no more hesitations. You both knew. You knew that this—whatever this was—was something real. Something you didn’t need to question anymore. The world might take a little longer to catch up, but in this moment, as you sat on that couch with Chris, you knew.

When you know, you know.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt

[randxmthxughts]

Be Mine - Neteyam x Metkayina ! reader (fake dating)

summary: the one, where neteyam pretends to court the reader to avoid all of the nagging from his parents and a group of admirers. of course, it doesn’t take long for her to fall for him too

warnings: none really, pure fluff, fake dating trope, jealousy, loak x tsireya canon, events take place five years after the battle between the metkayina and the sky people, so aged up characters

wc: >12k

a/n: now that i finished writing this, i realized that i wrote an avatar version of bridgerton, lol </3 if you enjoy this, i love getting compliments and reblogs

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everybody knew about Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, ever since his family first stepped into your village. His blue skin, golden eyes, and the strange tail, were easily the talk of almost every conversation among your peers. Yet, despite the obvious physical differences, there was always something about him that fascinated you, lured you in.

Many things changed after the Battle at the Three Brothers. With the help of your soul sisters and brothers Tulkuns, and joined by the great Toruk Makto, your Olo’yektan had an upper hand and a decisive victory over the sky people. It was a victory to be passed down in stories to your future generations and to be celebrated gloriously among the clan. This year was marking its fifth anniversary, with a big celebration that would last the whole night.

Since that battle, Neteyam has truly transformed into a man, earning approving and respectful looks from all around him. His forest upbringing never held Neteyam back from growing into his place among the Metkayina: his once slim shoulders broadened, matching the most skillful divers, height increased, and his muscles started showing without even flexing. In addition to his looks, his physical appearance never betrayed his personality. It seemed like Neteyam had the purest, kindest heart amongst all, always rushing to help the villagers with their chores, big and small; whether it meant fixing up a canoe, carrying baskets of food, or sometimes even babysitting, that is if he had time. His father was reluctant to stop the training with his sons, just in case of another attack from the sky people, so Neteyam rarely had any time for himself. 

Guys wanted to be his friends, while the girls were fawning over him, hoping to become his mate. It was no secret that now, being of an age to pick the one for himself, parents’ sudden attention and admiring looks were following him everywhere. But Neteyam didn’t rush to choose.

Unlike his brother, Lo'ak seemed to have his life all figured out, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Falling for Tsireya, Lo’ak had many expectations to live up to, if he wanted to be with her. After all, she was the daughter of the chief, and a tsakarem, the future Tsahik of Metkayina. And while at first, Tsireya’s parents were hesitant of the bond she was forming with the forest boy, Lo’ak’s family spoke for himself. His father had played a significant role in the victory at the Three Brothers, providing guidance and knowledge that helped secure their win. Lo'ak also worked hard on himself to earn her parents’ approval. So the day, when Lo’ak finally returned home with Tsireya's necklace around his neck, a symbol of acceptance, was the day when Neteyam felt the weight on his shoulders double in size. 

You were no different from the other girls adoring Neteyam, as you had also developed a crush on him during your teenage years. It was unavoidable, really. Before you grew out of your friendship with Tsireya, the two of you used to be quite close. So when the Sully’s first moved to Awa'atlu, and Tsireya was assigned to guide the kids, you were often hanging around them too. 

But it was easy for you to accept that you were never going to be an equal match for Neteyam. He had many admirers who were stronger than you, more skilled, more talented, and had respected families. Everything came into the play, and you were losing at every aspect. So, you have successfully suppressed this silly crush for years, before you could finally push it to the very far back of your mind and forget about it. Instead, you occupied yourself with your learning. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Despite not being friends anymore, Tsireya and you have always maintained a polite demeanor towards each other. Now it did feel a little strange to be paired with her for the gathering of pxorna’ fruits, but you had to follow through. As per tradition, the entire clan was divided into groups to prepare for the upcoming celebration, and you were assigned to work together. Even though climbing tall trees wasn't exactly your strong suit as a water Na'vi, protesting wasn't an option: after all, the sweetest fruits were always at the very top. So, to make the task easier, you and Tsireya took turns climbing the trees and picking the fruits, then one would lower the bag for the other to catch and store into the big woven baskets provided. This method ensured that the bag wouldn't become too heavy for you to carry back down.

Ready to lower another batch of fruits, you call out to Tsireya to catch it. But instead of a response, all you can hear is her laughter. Surely enough, when you look down, you find her engrossed in a conversation with Lo’ak, completely ignoring you. You try to catch her attention one more time, before huffing under your breath, and deciding to climb down by yourself. You clutch the bag tightly against your chest, but as you get closer to the ground, some of the fruits start slipping out of your grip. Your hand reaches out instinctively to catch at least one, when you suddenly begin to lose your balance. You can almost imagine the damage to your back muscles, once you will hit the ground, when a pair of hands help you down on the ground.

“I got you,” you hear an accompanying voice. 

“Thank you,” you blink in surprise, as you find Neteyam Sully to be your savior.

“You spilled some but they should be good,” he grins at you, as he crouches down and starts gathering the fruits from the ground.

Quietly, you empty your bag into the basket, throwing a glance at the other basket. It’s almost empty. You sigh out of frustration. There was still a lot of work to do, but Tsireya now seems to be completely distracted. At this rate, you’ll never finish. 

“Lo’ak, that’s enough,” Neteyam grabs his brother by the shoulder, interrupting his chat with Tsireya. An amused smile creeps up on your face.

“Come on, bro, let’s stay,” Lo’ak gestures to the trees around him, “At least, there is work to do here. You know the area where Ronal sent us for fruit is dead.”

“I don’t care, if we have to gather fruits from the dead trees,” Neteyam tries to pull him but Lo’ak stands his ground, “Lo’ak, you know that whatever Ronal decides is not up to discussion.”

“Bro, we spent an hour climbing those trees for nothing,” Lo’ak points to the empty baskets they brought, “If we stay here, we can help out the girls and gather for ourselves too. No one has to know.”

“Neteyam, please,” Tsireya pleads.

“Ah, what the hell?” Neteyam shakes his head before breaking into a toothy grin, “But these baskets are gonna have to be full, Lo’ak.”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes at how easily Neteyam agrees to the empty promise. You weren’t close with Lo’ak but even you knew how often he got into trouble for not keeping his word. It doesn’t take long to confirm your suspicion: while you and Neteyam are occupied with the task on hand, Lo’ak and Tsireya disappear from underneath the trees. 

“Great,” you huffed, emptying yet another full bag into the basket.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help,” Neteyam says with a gentle tone.

You watch him empty out his bag into your basket too, instead of his. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you feel guilty. Does he always work harder to overcompensate for Lo’ak’s behavior?

“I don’t mind.”

He takes it so light-heartedly, you wonder if it’s a daily occurrence. You stare off into the direction where Tsireya and Lo’ak had previously disappeared.

“Don’t you find it annoying?” you ask him curiously. Surely, even he must have his limits.

“They mean well, give them a break,” Neteyam chuckles, nudging your shoulder.

“You know if you keep covering for him all the time, he will never learn his lesson,” you shake your head, “Lo’ak will be the only adult who doesn’t know how to take care of simple chores.”

“He’s not that hopeless,” he laughs, finding your reaction amusing, “He’s just a kid in love.”

You don’t disagree with him, instead falling quiet. There was no place for you to talk about his brother’s behavior, you weren’t close.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be discussing your family matters like this.”

“No need to apologize, Y/N,” his gaze softens, “Besides, wouldn’t you prefer a forest Na’vi climbing the trees, instead of Tsireya? I promise I am much better at it.”

“Of course you are,” you return his smile.

The two of you get back to work, with mostly Neteyam picking the fruits, and you filling up the baskets. Despite your initial annoyance with Tsireya for leaving you, you seem to enjoy working with Neteyam way more. He’s quick and attentive, and you are grateful for him overtaking the climbing part, because you were always a little clumsy when it came to physical activities.

Soon enough, the baskets are nearly full, so you decide to regain your strength and take a break. Neteyam peels fruits for the both of you, and you sit under the trees, enjoying the shade. 

“Hey, did you make that bag?” he suddenly points at the pocket attached to your belt. It was a small woven bag that you had on you all the time, in case you found beads or rocks you could put to use.

“I did.”

“It looks great,” Neteyam smiles, “I’m not surprised though. You always had golden hands.”

“That is not true,” you disagree.

“Are you joking?” his smile grows wider, “Y/N, you make the most beautiful items. I see people approaching you everyday for help. Do you know anybody else in the village who is as skilled at weaving as you?”

“Well…no,” you shake your head.

“Believe me, you really have a talent for it.”

It wasn’t just weaving that he was referring to. You were pretty handy when it came to making jewelry, also clothes, and headpieces. When you first indulged yourself in weaving, eager to learn to make beautiful pieces for yourself, you never expected that it would turn into a hobby. Your expertise soon expanded to other things too, like making resin weapons, toys, you even took up pottery. Eventually, people noticed and started approaching you with small tasks here and there, and you were glad to help out. But your clan didn’t have a name for your occupation, so you never considered yourself to fit into one. 

“Remember the ceremonial belt you helped me make? It still holds up incredibly,” Neteyam reminds you with a toothy grin.

Of course you remember. It was exactly four years ago, when one night, Neteyam came to your marui, ears pressed flat against his skull in embarrassment. He had to explain the reason for his late visit in front of your parents, saying that he had only the night to make his ceremonial belt. It took you by surprise, because Neteyam wasn’t known for slacking off. He just didn’t think that it would be so difficult to make a damned belt. Scolded by his parents for not starting out sooner, he was then too embarrassed to ask them for help, so there he was instead, asking for yours. Having a soft spot for Neteyam, your parents allowed you to help him, despite the late hour. You two barely caught any sleep that night, working on the belt, making sure that it looked special, different from the other guys’. Neteyam watched your movements attentively, eager to learn, so sometimes you would pass the belt back to him to practice.

“I see you still wearing it sometimes,” you smile.

“You really helped me out back then, I was going to get skinned if I didn’t have a belt by the time for my ceremony,” he pauses, “I still owe you for that.”

“Nonsense, no one owes me anything. Neither do you,” you shake your head, “I like helping.”

“You can’t possibly help everyone with nothing in return.”

“I mean, people bring me food here and there,” you chuckle.

“No gifts?” he quirks his eyebrow.

“Not so much. I can make my own gifts,” you shrug, “But Mateä brings me seashells sometimes.”

“Seashells? Do you like those?”

“Oh, they make necklaces and cover ups look so lovely. Of course, they’re a little tricky to work with but it’s worth it,” you explain, “And Mateä always makes sure to bring the most beautiful shells he can find… Sometimes, he even lets me have the ones he picked for himself.”

You knew Mateä ever since you were kids. He was only a year older than you, but he was very mature for his age, way more than anyone you knew. Mateä was also one of the most skilled swimmers in your clan, which allowed him to swim outside of the perimeters and discover great depths. So whenever he had a small task for you, like fixing up his spear, or making an armor for his ilu, in return he would bring you the most unique-looking, colorful shells he could find. 

“Why would Mateä pick shells for himself?” Neteyam squints.

"He probably just likes them," you shrug, "But there were times when he asked me to make a shell necklace for him, but then he would insist that I keep it for myself because he knew how much I liked it."

“So he makes you make your own gifts?” Neteyam snorts.

“Hey, that’s rude,” you give him a playful slap on the arm, “It doesn’t matter. I have many beautiful things thanks to him.”

“I’m only kidding… I just think that he might like you, that’s all.”

“Maybe.”

You don’t deny his accusation, partly because there is some truth to it. Mateä’s and your fathers were close friends, so they were quite happy with the possibility of you and him bonding some day. And while growing up there was no pressure on either side, the two of you had always felt that something might happen. You were never opposed to the idea anyway. Mateä was a good match for you: he was admired for his strength and swimming, and he was very respectful towards you. And even when you had your little crush on Neteyam, you still knew that Mateä was a more likely option. More recently though, you suspected that Mateä was eyeing you too. He just never made a move… not a direct one anyway. 

“Is he taking you as his date to the celebration tonight?” Neteyam interrupts your thoughts.

“Are we supposed to bring dates?” you ask, teasing. Sure, some brought dates to celebrations to make their bonds known but it wasn’t a requirement.

“Exactly! My father wants me to bring a date, like this isn’t a celebration of a battle.” he emphasizes the last word with his thick accent, clearly annoyed. 

“Why does he want you to bring a date?” you cock your head.

“Because I lied,” he blurts out, a guilty expression covering his face.

“Lied?”

“That I am courting someone,” he cringes, “Even though that someone doesn’t exist.”

“Why would you lie about courting someone nonexistent when you have dozens of girls ready to be swept away by you?” you stifle a laugh, “Especially Zìsmì.”

“Please don’t mention her,” Neteyam rolls his eyes, “I don’t mean to sound rude but Zìsmì is very persistent. I sometimes have to turn directions to avoid running into her.”

“That’s kind of mean,” you decide to tease him, saying that with a stern tone, like you mean it. Neteyam shifts uncomfortably. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s rude of me to talk about her that way,” he begins to apologize but stops at the sound of your laughter.

“I’m only joking, Neteyam,” you tilt your head back, “Don’t worry, everyone knows how pushy Zìsmì can get. If the two of you were ever to become mates, she would dominate you completely.”

“Thank you!” he agrees eagerly, “Please tell that to my parents. They have been so persistent that I reciprocate her attention. I mean… just because she is a good hunter and has respected parents, doesn’t mean I click with her.”

“Is that why you lied?”

“Yeah… I just didn’t think it through. I only said it to get them off my back for a while,” he explains, his voice low, “But when I told them that I wanted to keep it a secret for a bit longer, they got too excited. So sometimes, they kick me out of the house to go on my secret dates.”

“Secret dates?” 

“I kind of told them that the girl I’m courting hasn’t told her parents yet, that’s why we have to hide.”

“For a lie you didn’t think through, you sure had many details to add,” you’re amused by the clear regret on his face, “So they want to meet her tonight?”

“To confirm that I am not lying. After all, it’s been going for over a month now,” he sighs.

“A month?”

“I know, I’m going to get skinned,” Neteyam hides his face in his palms.

“Skinned by whom? Dad or Zismi?” Lo’ak’s voice interrupts your conversation.

Hand in hand, Tsireya and Lo’ak emerge from the trees and sit in front of you. She throws a concerned look at Neteyam.

“Dad, of course” Neteyam breathes out, still not lifting his head, “I can deal with Zìsmì later.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Lo’ak smirks, “By the way, you owe me, bro. Zismi was going to invite you as her date tonight.”

“What?” Neteyam looks up at his brother, “How do you know?”

“Oh, she asked me in the morning. She was looking for you, and then told me that she wanted to invite you.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that she shouldn’t because you already had a date,” he shrugs.

“Lo’ak,” Tsireya groans, disappointed, “Now your brother will have to apologize to her, once she catches on the lie.”

“I am so dead,” Neteyam grunts, “If I could only have a little more time to think about it, I’m sure I can figure it out. But it’s like she’s conspiring with my parents against me.”

“Maybe you just need to finally turn her down,” you suggest, earning a chuckle from Lo’ak, “What?”

“Neteyam and rejecting someone don't go in the same sentence. He would rather run and sneak around the village, than tell someone that they annoy him.”

“I just don’t find that type of conversation pleasant. Or necessary,” Neteyam objects.

“They are necessary if the person doesn’t get the hint,” Tsireya adds, “Remember when Nauru -”

“Please don’t remind me of Nauru,” Neteyam interrupts her with a pleading voice.

“What did Nauru do?” you ask, now curious.

“Oh, you don’t know?” a grin stretches on Lo’ak’s lips, “It was insane.”

“It’s not funny, Lo’ak,” Tsireya shushes him, turning to you, “At first, it was kind of sweet. Nauru would leave gifts for Neteyam by his marui. But there was this one time she left him flowers, and, of course, she didn’t know that some of those were poisonous. Neteyam almost lost a finger because of her. She would also follow him everywhere, even show up to his hunts, almost earning an arrow in her head by another hunter. It was getting out of hand, and Neteyam had to reject her directly and ask her to give up.”

“Enough about Nauru,” Neteyam groans, “What am I going to do now? Even if I do turn down Zismi, I’d still have mom and dad to deal with.”

“You’re right,” Lo’ak agrees, empathizing with his brother, “I’m sure you’ll like someone eventually, but we both know how impatient our parents can get.”

The four of you fall silent for a moment, contemplating a solution to Neteyam's situation. But somewhere deep down in your heart, you feel a little relieved that he didn’t have his eye set on anyone yet. You are also partially grateful to your parents for not pressuring you in the same way. It must be hard having the Toruk Makto for your father.

“I know what to do to win more time, Neteyam!” Tsireya excitedly interrupts your thought process, “Remember the time Ao’nung asked Sìlälaw to play along, as if he was courting her?”

“That was pretend?” you ask. Surely, you missed out on a lot of things by not being friends with Tsireya anymore.

“Of course,” she says, like it’s obvious, “Before finding his mate, Ao’nung was getting scolded everyday by our mom and dad. So, he asked Sìlälaw to help him out, pretend like he was following her around, and she just didn’t like him back.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Neteyam shakes his head.

“No, hear her out, bro,” Lo’ak holds up his palm, “It worked once, right? Mom and dad stopped bothering you, when you lied about courting someone. Just show up this once, with anyone, and that’s it.”

“And afterwards?”

“Just lie,” Lo’ak exclaims, “Say that it didn’t work out or something, who cares.”

“And when it doesn't ‘work out’,” Tsireya chimes in, “You can win some more time by being ‘heartbroken’ and ‘not ready’ to pursue another girl yet.”

“It seems so excessive,” you comment, considering the plan, “Isn’t it easier to tell the truth?”

“The truth doesn’t work,” Neteyam lets out a painful chuckle, then turns to his brother, “Where would I even find someone to agree?”

“Now that’s tough,” Lo’ak hums, “Half of the girls are swooning over you, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“What about Y/N?” Tsireya points at you.

“What about me?” you raise your eyebrows, confused.

“You don’t care for Neteyam like that,” she starts explaining, “And, you’ve had Mateä running after you for years now, but he still hasn’t even asked you out yet. Maybe if he sees you with Neteyam for one night, it’ll make him jealous and finally give him the push he needs.”

Neteyam snorts, like it’s an unlikely possibility.

“Mateä is never going to act out of jealousy, he’s not like that,” you object, “What if he stops speaking to me afterwards?”

“Then we will send Neteyam to talk to him. Neteyam will tell him that he’s heartbroken over you, and that you rejected him for Mateä,” Lo’ak chimes in, “He will dig for some information, nudge Mateä to confess to you. It’s so easy, like it was written in the stars.”

You can’t really find a flaw in Lo’ak’s suggestion. Maybe receiving a confirmation about your feelings is just the thing Mateä’s waiting for.

“Still, I’m not crazy. Do you even know how much pressure it would be to face all those girls?”

“Right, I shouldn’t be putting Y/N into such a position,” Neteyam supports your point.

“Y/N doesn’t have to face them at all. You can turn down those girls easily because you’ll have a perfect excuse. They would be too embarrassed to approach Y/N.”

“I guess,” Neteyam hums, “What do you think, Y/N? I mean, no pressure, but I would owe you for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug your shoulders. It just feels icky.

“Come on, Y/N, for the sake of our past friendship,” Tsireya pleads with you.

“Okay… it’s just for one night, right?” you agree. It wasn’t.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your chest, when Neteyam takes your hand in his. You take in a deep breath, heading towards the celebration with him. Lo’ak and Tsireya walk ahead of you.

It feels odd to be wearing Neteyam’s necklace instead of your own. That was the courtesy of Tsireya, who was convinced that once anyone saw you two exchange your necklaces, they would be convinced that the courting was serious. 

“I’m scared,” you admit through your teeth.

“Thank you again,” Neteyam whispers, squeezing your hand.

“Come on, guys,” Lo’ak turns to the two of you with an excited smile, “Act natural, okay?”

You nod your head but you’re not sure how you’re going to survive through the night. The closer you get to the celebration, the more people start noticing you. Hushed voices and gasps is all that catches your attention, even though Neteyam walks right beside you. Why does everyone look so surprised? You almost feel offended by the looks you get. Were Neteyam and you really that incompatible? 

The four of you take a seat around a small fire, pairs of eyes watching your every moment. You can’t help but sense Neteyam’s nervousness traveling down his body.

“You alright?” you whisper.

“Not really,” he admits, “Have you seen my parents yet?”

As you scan the crowd of Na'vi dancing and singing, your eyes land on Neytiri talking to someone. Jake stands beside her but his attention seems to be elsewhere, as he occasionally looks around him. Both of them are wearing celebratory clothing that is slightly more elaborate than any of yours. After all, it was a testament to their importance in the victorious battle.

“It looks like your father is looking for you.”

“Shit,” Neteyam lets out, nervously. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“Keep it up,” Tsireya says, “The more relaxed you seem, the more believable this will look.”

She gestures at the two of you, and as you look down, you notice how close you and Neteyam are pressed to each other. It’s like you’re trying to hide from the attention you’re getting. 

It’s not long before you catch Mateä watching you from afar. Your heart beats faster, when his eyes travel to your hand still intertwined with Neteyam’s. He gulps down, and you wonder if he feels jealous.

“Mateä’s looking,” Neteyam points out, “You want to take it up by a notch?”

“What do you mean?” you turn your face to him, confused. 

There is a hint of playfulness in Neteyam’s eyes before he slowly leans in, his mouth close to your ear. You shudder under his breath.

“Pretend I said something funny, and laugh,” he whispers.

“I can’t pretend to laugh,” you whisper back, annoyed, “Can’t you just tell me something funny?”

Neteyam pulls back slightly to look at you. There is an amused smile resting on his face.

“We’re really bad at this, aren’t we?”

“You think?” you quirk your eyebrow at him, earning a small laugh from him.

“Okay, this can work too,” he says. You can’t help but smile at him.

But when you check for Mateä again, he’s nowhere to be found. Your smile drops. What if you hurt him? As if sensing your sudden change in mood, Neteyam gently squeezes your hand. 

"Are you alright?" he asks, “Is Mateä still looking?”

“No, I think he walked away,” you mumble, standing up, “I’m going to get us something to drink, okay?”

“Alright,” Neteyam mumbles back, watching you leave.

“Are you crazy?” Lo’ak slaps Neteyam on the arm, “Go with her, or they’re gonna eat her up alive.”

Following Lo’ak’s gaze, Neteyam sees Zìsmì with her friends. He quickly gets to his feet to follow you but you have already disappeared in the crowd.

“Y/N,” Zìsmì’s voice catches your attention. 

Sighing, you turn around to face her. She has a coy smile on her lips, as she takes you in from head to toe. You wait for her to talk.

“The necklace, did you make that yourself?” Zismi points to your neck, pretending as if she didn’t recognize it right away.

“It looks a lot like Neteyam’s necklace,” one of her friends says, before you could even open your mouth.

“That’s a little weird,” Zismi comments.

“You have a good eye, it is Neteyam’s necklace,” you gather as much confidence as you can, watching their expressions change, “He gave it to me.”

“Why would he give you his necklace?” Zismi scoffs.

“Because I wanted to see it on her,” you suddenly hear Neteyam’s voice, as he appears next to you, “Everything Y/N touches, basically turns into a lucky charm.”

The girls stare at Neteyam, their eyes widened. Again, you feel a little offended. Why is everyone so surprised that he likes you? Before you can react, Neteyam gently pulls you by your hand.

“We have to go, girls,” he throws with his most polite smile.

Feeling their stares like daggers in your back, Neteyam moves closer to you and wraps his arm around your waist protectively, leading you away from the prying eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he cranes his neck to whisper.

“It’s alright, I’m not scared of Zismi,” you turn to look at him, “Unlike you.”

“Very funny,” Neteyam rolls his eyes. 

His arm is still firmly wrapped around your waist, as the two of you continue walking. The warmth of his body against yours feels almost comforting, despite the curious glances you receive. Neteyam seems to notice it too, as he tightens his grip on you, pulling you a little closer to him. 

"Just ignore them," there is a hint of annoyance in his voice. You wonder if it’s bothering him more than you.

As you get closer to the big fire, you hear a loud cheer erupt from the crowd. Instinctively, you want to find out what’s happening. A chuckle of disbelief escapes from your mouth, when you see Neytiri and Jake dancing around the fire, to the fast rhythm of the drums. While Neytiri’s movements are gracious and fluid, Jake’s are… Well, Jake is trying his best. She throws her head back in laughter, when he makes an awkward movement, but no one else dares to laugh at the Toruk Makto, except for his mate. Suddenly, he sweeps Neytiri up into his arms and twirls her around the fire. The Na’vi cheer them on and on, clapping their hands in amusement.

You join in on the clapping, caught up in their infectious joy. When you turn to look at Neteyam, however, you notice that he's cringing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“They are acting like little kids,” Neteyam huffs.

“I think it’s sweet,” you nudge him with a smile, “Loosen up, Neteyam.”

“How can I?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“If your father can relax for one night, so can you,” you push him into the circle, with a loud shout, “Dance, Neteyam!”

Neteyam stands frozen for a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sudden action. His ears lower, and he tries to step out of the circle, but Lo’ak nudges him back in. The music picks up and the crowd cheers louder, but Neteyam stands still, clearly irritated by your behavior.

You can’t watch him anymore, so you jump to his rescue, and take his hands in yours. He tries to resist at first, but it doesn’t take much convincing on your part to get him to loosen up. As you embarrass yourself with the silly movements and faces you make, you finally coax a smile out of him. You don’t care about the others watching you, you only focus on getting him to dance with you. Soon enough, Neteyam’s confidence grows, and he starts to move more freely to the rhythm with you. You hold onto his hands, feeling the warmth of his touch, and beam with adoration as you watch him give in. 

Other couples start joining in, and the circle becomes more crowded. People start pressing closer, pushing you and Neteyam towards each other, with barely any space left. His hands instinctively find your waist, yours rest on his biceps, holding him in place. You’re not sure whether it’s the heat of the fire, or it’s just him, but you feel warmer and warmer, every time his eyes meet yours. 

“You okay?” you smile, noticing drops of sweat rolling down his face, “It’s too hot here.”

Before he can answer, you lead him out of the crowd. You catch a look from your parents’ from afar, and can only roll your eyes at them. You know they were going to question you about tonight but you don’t want to think about it for now. At least they don’t seem to be mad? 

Distracted, you turn around, nearly colliding with Neteyam's parents. They look a little lightheaded, and you suspect they've had a drink made from the pxorna' fruits you gathered earlier. Quickly, you bow low and bring your fingers to your forehead in greeting. Neteyam shifts uncomfortably beside you.

“Son… and Y/N,” Jake looks between the two of you with an approving smile. 

“Y/N, are you the one Neteyam was hiding from us?” Neytiri asks curiously.

“Mom,” Neteyam tenses up, “Let’s not make her uncomfortable, please.” 

Neteyam looks so stressed, you wonder how his parents believed his lies in the first place. Maybe they were blinded by the excitement?

“We’re just glad that it’s been her this whole time,” Jake says, smiling at you, “You’re very talented, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you reply, shying away from the compliment. 

“We were worried that Neteyam was lying just to avoid us,” Neytiri explains.

Neteyam and you chuckle nervously, hoping that this isn’t her smart way of cracking you.

“Are your parents aware?” she asks, scanning the crowd. You quickly draw her attention back to you.

“They are now… I am sorry that Neteyam had to keep this a secret from you, that was my wish,” you lie, “It is just that my mother likes rushing into many things, and I still needed some time to get to know Neteyam.”

You weren’t completely off; your mother did have a tendency to rush into things. If she had known that you were open to dating Mateä, she would have already told him by now.

“No need to apologize,” Jake chimes in, “If anything, I feel bad for forcing your hand.”

“You should feel bad,” Neteyam grunts but you can sense that he’s holding back from saying more.

“It’s alright, I’m happy to be here tonight with Nete,” you pat Neteyam on the back.

Dropping a nickname seems to be just enough to convince them. You notice the satisfied smiles settle on their faces. 

“Ma’Jake, let’s leave them alone. After all, it’s their first outing as mates,” Neytiri murmurs, pulling Jake by his hand.

“We’re not mated yet,” Neteyam cringes, but she only finds it amusing.

“It is only a matter of time, you are your father’s son after all.”

As the two of them walk away, laughing, Neteyam takes a deep breath to calm himself down. You can sense how embarrassed he feels, knowing what you heard. But you didn’t mind it all, he has no reason to be this upset.

“Are you okay?” you nudge him but Neteyam refuses to look at you, “Hey, don’t be like that.”

“I just...I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he admits, looking down.

“What would be hard? Pretending to be in love with me?” you tease, craning your neck to see his face.

“No,” he doesn’t even crack a smile, “I’m sorry for getting you into this mess.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I am enjoying this,” you take his hand in yours, finally getting him to look at you, “Besides, we’re almost done, right?”

“Right,” he nods.

“Now, come on, pretend that I said something funny and laugh,” you playfully repeat his words. Neteyam's lips twitch into a smile before he breaks into a genuine chuckle, causing your heart to skip a beat. You love the sound of his laughter.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You two look so good together, I am not ready for this to be over yet,” Tsireya beams, as she plops down in front of Neteyam and you. Lo’ak follows her suit.

“Maybe you should keep it up for a little longer, bro. The way you were dancing - “ Lo’ak starts to imitate Neteyam’s dancing but Neteyam slaps him.

“Stop that, skxawng.”

“Just ignore him, Neteyam, you were great out there,” Tsireya says softly.

“Seriously, being less tense suits you,” you agree, noticing Neteyam hiding a shy smile.

“I got to admit, it wasn’t bad at all,” Lo’ak straightens up, “I just haven’t seen you dance since Naye.”

“Let it go, Lo’ak,” Neteyam grunts.

“Who’s Naye?”

“Neteyam’s first crush from back home,” Lo’ak snickers, enjoying how far he can push his brother, “Neteyam was so in love with her, he couldn't even talk to her. So this one time, during a celebration, he decided to express his feelings by dancing for her.”

“Well, what did she say?” your ears perk up in anticipation.

“She just pretended like it wasn’t happening and walked away,” Lo’ak breaks into laughter.

“That’s not funny,” Tsireya covers Lo’ak’s mouth with her hand, “It’s alright, Neteyam, we all had our share of silly teenage crushes.”

She unintentionally throws you a knowing look, for support, but Lo’ak immediately catches on.

“Who did Y/N have a crush on?” he asks. 

You stiffen, feeling their gazes intensifying on you.

“It doesn’t matter now,” you try to switch the topic but Lo’ak doesn’t seem to give up.

“It shouldn’t matter then, if you say it,” he pushes, “It can’t be that bad.”

You let out a sigh, knowing that you won't be able to get out of this.

“I used to have a crush on Neteyam,” you admit as laughter erupts.

You shoot daggers at Lo’ak, who is now rolling in the sand, while Tsireya tries to cover up her laughter. You turn to Neteyam, who looks at you with a shy smile on his face.

“Before you say anything, I feel like I should clear this,” you hold up your hand, “It was just a fleeting crush before I got to know you. And it disappeared. So please don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“So you’re saying your crush disappeared right after you got to know him?” Lo’ak asks, another wave of laughter hitting him. Shit. That’s not how you wanted it to sound.

Neteyam only rolls his eyes at his brother, while Tsireya tries her best to keep a straight face.

“I’m sorry, we just sneaked some of the pxorna’ juice,” she explains. 

“I can tell,” you grit through your teeth. You have now truly understood the embarrassment Neteyam felt a moment ago.

“Y/N, please don’t take this to heart,” Tsireya rests her palm on your thigh, “Who cares what happened five years ago? We know you’re interested in Mateä now anyway.”

“Yeah,” Neteyam clears his throat, agreeing, “It was a silly crush, right? It’s all in the past now.”

You nod, but you can't shake off the feeling of unease. You couldn’t help but wonder if Neteyam was relieved that he didn't have to reject one more girl, or if he was secretly disappointed that you were interested in Mateä instead of him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Neteyam asked you to keep up the fake courting till the hunting festivities to make his heartbreak more believable, you agreed. The festivities were supposed to begin only in a few weeks, to mark the beginning of the hunting season, so you thought it wasn’t a big deal. You could wait. Besides, it seemed like things were looking up for the two of you.

Neteyam was finally getting some time for himself. His father had started to ease up on him, cutting short his training. Knowing that Neteyam was supposedly courting you, Jake wanted to give his son a chance to focus on that. 

The past few months had been so tough on Neteyam both physically and mentally, that all he wanted to do was rest and recharge. So he would often use that free time to drop by your marui and ask to take naps on your floor, while you were working on whatever project you had. Since your parents were mostly out, letting you work in peace, Neteyam’s quiet snoring was no burden. And if anyone was visiting you to ask for help with their items, they would only throw an amused look at sleeping Neteyam and leave you two alone, helping you keep up your fake image without much effort. Sometimes, you would catch yourself watching him too, admiring the peaceful expression on his face, as he slept. Of course, this didn’t escape your parents’ attention, as they were peppering you with questions about Neteyam’s intentions almost every night. But you mostly ignored their inquiries, focused on the simple pleasure of being able to help Neteyam.

Slowly, the girls who used to fawn over Neteyam not too long ago also started to lose their interest. Especially with Zismi's parents informing Neytiri that they were considering another match for their daughter. Neteyam felt relieved by the idea that he didn’t have to reject anyone anymore.

On the other hand, you started noticing more efforts from Mateä. Even though you feared that he wouldn’t act out of jealousy, Mateä seemed to be persistent in seeing you more often than he usually did. Whenever you went for a swim, he was right there with you, trying his best to make you laugh. Whenever you would carry a heavy basket, Mateä sprung to your side to help. Not to mention the beautiful seashells he started to bring you without particular reason. It seemed like any day now, Mateä was going to confess his feelings for you. Neteyam didn’t seem particularly pleased whenever he witnessed your interactions, but you only assumed it was an act. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As you rounded the corner to your marui, you suddenly spotted Neteyam pacing around it. You hesitated to approach him as you could hear him mumbling something under his breath. It was almost like he was practicing some sort of speech. Instead, you carefully lowered yourself into the water and swam closer to your home, hiding just underneath. You were close enough to hear him and avoid being seen. You weren’t going to eavesdrop for long, you just wanted to find out what he’s doing before revealing yourself.

Neteyam suddenly stopped talking, and for a second, you thought that he had spotted you. That is until, Mateä came into your view, stopping by the entrance to your marui. You watch quietly, as the two of them exchange a brief greeting.

“Is Y/N here?” Mateä gestures to the marui, but Neteyam shakes his head, “Oh, I guess I thought she’d be here with you.”

“Why would she be with me?” Neteyam asks, with a slight annoyance in his voice.

“Aren’t you courting her?” Mateä asks, confused, “Or are those just rumors?”

“No, it’s true,” Neteyam seems to get his act back together. For a second, you were worried he would accidentally reveal something, “But Y/N is not tied to me every minute of the day, so…”

“So it is true that you’re not mated yet,” Mateä mumbles under his breath.

“Did you have something to pass to her?” Neteyam asks impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest. What is he doing? 

“Actually, I'd prefer to give it to her myself," Mateä matches his tone, clearly not liking the possessiveness Neteyam radiates. 

“If it’s another thing you want her to make for you, she’s been busy lately,” Neteyam scoffs. 

“It’s not a task, I brought her a gift.”

“Let me guess, more seashells?” Neteyam rolls his eyes. What is wrong with him?

“That’s right, I know how much she likes those,” Mateä steps forward.

Seemingly unfazed, Neteyam takes a step forward as well. You shift, thinking of interrupting them before things start to escalate. But Mateä doesn’t seem to be in the mood for an argument. Instead, he brushes past Neteyam towards your marui. 

"I'll leave them on her table. Tell her I brought them for her when she comes back," Mateä says over his shoulder. "Actually, don’t bother. She'll know they're from me anyway."

Neteyam watches in annoyance as Mateä disappears into your marui. You can almost hear him exhale loudly, trying to calm himself down. Maybe Neteyam’s just having a hard day today, you think. Perhaps something to do with his father? When Mateä comes back out, he leaves without a word.

Quietly, you swim to the back of your marui, and get out of the water. You pause before rounding the corner, and approaching Neteyam. Upon seeing you, he forces a small smile.

“Neteyam,” you greet him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he scratches the back of his head, nervous.

“Are you here for another nap?” you tease him, proceeding into your marui. 

“Actually… no,” he follows you in.

You hum, waiting for him to elaborate, as you start taking out some of the supplies you gathered from your bag. It’s then that your eye catches the beautiful green shells laid out on your table. Neteyam stands awkwardly by the wall, watching your reaction. 

“Who brought those?” you turn to ask him.

“Mateä,” Neteyam answers, “I forgot to mention. He was here earlier to see you.”

“Too bad I missed him,” you say, testing his reaction, “But it’s weird that he hasn’t asked me out yet. What do you think? You’re a guy.”

Neteyam has to physically restrain himself from cringing at your words. It takes him a second to regain his calmness, before putting on that fake voice he uses around his father.

“It is weird. He should have asked you out a long time ago.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t like me enough,” you turn your attention back to the shells.

“Nonsense. He’s just a coward,” you hear him scoff.

Surprised, you look at Neteyam again, studying his face. There is a mix of frustration and shame on his face. It's hard to tell if he's getting possessive over you, or if there's something else that's bothering him. 

"Is everything okay?" you ask softly, trying to gauge his reaction, “You seem to have a problem with Mateä.”

"Everything's fine. Just... he always seems to hang around you lately," he says, his voice trailing off.

“Well, wasn’t that kind of the point?” you gesture between the two of you, referring to the fake courting. 

“I guess,” Neteyam hums, you wait for him to continue, “I just don’t like that he acts like a coward.”

“Maybe if you stop scaring him away…” you mumble under your breath, but he’s quick to catch it.

“You don’t want someone who is so easily intimidated anyway.”

You don’t respond, confused by his behavior. Quietly, you start painting the pot you left unfinished last night. Neteyam falls silent too, watching you. He can’t understand what you see in Mateä. It just doesn't make sense to him. Neteyam also can’t understand why Mateä hasn’t made a move yet. Does he want you to choose him over Neteyam first? Or was he giving you other options, so you don’t have any regrets afterwards?

“You said you wanted something?” you interrupt his thoughts. 

“Um, right,” he clears his throat, “It’s kind of awkward.”

You put down the pot and turn to face him, suspecting that it is going to be something good. 

“What is it?”

“Well… apparently we’re not convincing enough,” he looks down at his feet, awkwardly, “People think that it’s just a rumor, that I’m courting you.”

“A rumor?” you frown, “But we’re hanging out all the time.”

Is he referring to Mateä’s words? Surely, if there was a rumor like that, Tsireya would have mentioned it to you a long time ago. She was keeping you updated. 

“No one ever sees us together outdoors, not after the celebration,” his voice gets a little higher, “I was just thinking that we could take it up by a notch?” 

“Well, what did you have in mind?” you tilt your head, curious. Neteyam’s eyes widen at your quick agreement.

“I take you on a date?”

“A date?” you smile, “Alright.”

A toothy grin spreads across Neteyam’s face at your response, causing your cheeks to flush with heat. You can't help but wonder if the two of you were getting too involved in this, and whether it was going to get in your way. But you can't deny the excitement you feel at the prospect of a date with Neteyam. Even if it’s a pretend one.

“What should I wear?”

“Anything pretty, and don’t worry about ruining it. I won’t take you into the water,” he says confidently, like he has everything planned out already.

“Okay,” you agree, reaching for one of the shell-necklaces you made for yourself. You raise your hand to show it to him, “How about this?”

“Hmm,” Neteyam pretends to think about it, as he leans against the wall.

You watch him with an amused smile stretching your lips. You rarely get to see a playful side of Neteyam but you love it when he acts like this. 

“I think I have to see it on, to decide,” he finally says his verdict, before cracking a smile.

You roll your eyes but comply anyway, walking up to him and shoving the necklace into his hands. As you turn around and move your hair out of the way, Neteyam carefully begins to tie the necklace around your neck. You can feel his hands shake slightly, as he takes his time. When he’s done, and you turn to face him, Neteyam is standing too close to you.

“Do you like it?” you meet his eyes, unable to put a distance between you.

“I do,” he breathes out.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Hey, Y/N, just dropping by for that pot. If it’s ready,” Tsireya walks into your marui, catching you off guard.

You had just put on a delicate pearly top you’ve made for yourself a while ago, and were trying to see if the ties in the back were in place. Tsireya gasps at the sight of you, bringing her hands to her mouth. 

“Did you make that?!” she beams at you, “You look beautiful, Y/N, it suits you so much!”

“You think? Not too much?” you quirk your eyebrow, pushing her for the truth. 

“Not at all,” she answers with a knowing look, “Are you going to see Mateä?” 

“No, not Mateä,” you shake your head. Tsireya looks at you confused, and you suddenly feel awkward having to explain yourself, “Neteyam wanted us to have a fake date somewhere public.”

“Oh,” that’s all she says.

It’s easy to see when something is bothering her. After all, you have been friends for a long time, you knew Tsireya like the back of your hand. 

“Just say it,” you urge her to speak.

“I just think that you shouldn’t drag this out for so long.”

“But Neteyam kind of needs me to keep playing into it,” you explain yet she doesn’t seem convinced, “Besides, Mateä has been showing more interest recently, so it works for both of us.”

“It doesn’t work for you and Mateä,” Tsireya disagrees, “You need to drop this, and Neteyam has to speak to Mateä before it’s too late.”

You don’t answer, considering her words. Tsireya is right, perhaps you should wrap this thing up. It was only supposed to be for one night, right? 

“Unless… you like him?” Tsireya looks at you, suspiciously. 

“Who?” your voice hitches.

“Seems like you’re starting to like Neteyam again,” Tsireya lets out with a sigh. She hated keeping things from you, but she also couldn’t lie. 

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Deep down, you suspect that she might be right. Neteyam was quickly starting to work his way back into your heart.

“I am just helping him out, Tsireya. There’s nothing between us,” you lie.

“I just think that this is not worth it… you and Mateä can have something really great.”

“The pot is ready, right over there,” you point to your table.

Tsireya throws an apologetic look at you, and picks up the pot, thanking you. She senses that you don’t want to talk about Neteyam anymore, and decides to give you time to think. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Neteyam?” you frown, as he keeps gawking at you, without a word.

It has been a few moments since he saw you walking out of your marui, and he still hasn't said anything. You begin to feel anxious about your appearance. Is it too revealing? Are the pearls too much? You just wanted to look like you were going on a date.

"You look like a beautiful syulang," he finally breathes out, admiring your look.

“You mean it?” you take a step closer to him.

“I do, you look very pretty,” he confirms, but takes a step back. You notice that he keeps his hands behind his back, as if he's trying to hide something.

"Thank you," you reply, "What do you have back there?"

“Uh, I brought this for you,” he says, bringing forward something wrapped in a large green leaf. 

You can't see what's inside, but you assume it's fragile, given how carefully he held it. As you take it from him and begin to unwrap, Neteyam observes your every move with anticipation.

"You really didn't have to bring me anything, Neteyam," you say, meeting his gaze for a moment, “It's not like a real date anyway.”

"I wanted to," he responds shyly.

As the wrapping comes undone, you see a handful of small, delicate yellow flowers. They're unlike anything you've ever seen before, petals shaped in a unique swirl in the ends. As you bring them closer to examine, you gawk back at Neteyam.

"Let me show you something," he smiles.

Without waiting for your permission, Neteyam takes your hand in his, opening your palm and holding it above the flowers, throwing a shade. The yellow flowers begin to glow with a soft, natural luminescence. 

“How come I’ve never seen these!” you beam, earning a satisfied grin from him, “This is very special, thank you.”

“I’m not a very good diver, so I can’t get you those shells you like,” he confesses, “But I saw these glowing at the top of the mountain when I was flying last night, so I went back for them this morning because I thought you might like them.”

“I don’t need you to bring me shells, Neteyam, these are very special,” you carefully pull him in for a hug with your free hand, trying not to squish the flowers. As Neteyam wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer, you close your eyes in comfort.

You were already thinking of ways to preserve the flowers, perhaps gathering some resin, and making jewelry out of them. Or something for your hair? Your marui? 

“I’ll put them into water, so that they don’t die by the time I get back,” you say, pulling back from Neteyam.

“Don’t worry, I can always bring you more,” he smiles.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Pretending with Neteyam had become effortless. As you strolled along the beach, Neteyam and you were just talking, catching up on the things that happened in the past years. Occasionally, you would make him laugh, and it warmed your heart to see him happy like that, carefree. Whenever you would notice someone watching you, Neteyam would ask you to hold hands with him to appear more serious. You agreed, of course, but Tsireya’s words were slowly weighing on you. You were letting it yourself get too invested, meanwhile Neteyam was only pretending.

As he walked you back to your marui, you could sense his growing nervousness.

“I think my neighbors are watching us,” you whisper with a smile, coming to a halt in front of the entrance.

“Are they big on gossip?” Neteyam leans in slightly, like he’s about to tell you a secret.

“Oh, very big,” you chuckle, “They are always asking my mother about you.”

“Maybe we should give them something to talk about,” he gulps down, bringing his face closer to you.

As Neteyam's eyes lock onto yours, you suddenly feel your heart race. You can't deny the tension between you, but you also can't ignore the possibility of this causing more trouble than it's worth. The thought of rumors spreading around the village about you and Neteyam kissing makes your stomach churn. Maybe this is too far. 

“What do you mean, Neteyam?” you manage to ask, captivated by his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, so quietly, like he’s going to scare you away.

“It wouldn’t be a proper date without a kiss,” you mumble. It was supposed to be a joke, a snarky comment, but you sounded so desperate, so impatient to feel him.

Neteyam only nods, his gaze fixed on your lips. He leans in, then hesitates, as if asking for one last permission. You tilt your head slightly, your heart racing in your chest. And when he finally closes the distance between you, you feel his soft, gentle lips on yours. It's so delicate and slow that it feels like a dream, intimate and special.

When you pull away, you notice a small smile resting on his lips. You can’t help but shy away from his gaze, taking a step back.

“Well, I think that was convincing enough,” you joke, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

“Thank you for tonight, Y/N,” he says, straightening up, “Have a sound sleep.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Your sleep wasn’t sound at all. You tossed and turned on your mat throughout the night, much to the annoyance of your parents. Your eyes kept being drawn to the bowl of flowers, casting a soft glow in the darkness. It reminded you of stupid Neteyam, of his stupid lips, and stupid captivating golden eyes that glowed the same way under the moonlight. You couldn't get him out of your head, and it was starting to drive you crazy.

Tsireya's warning echoed in your mind - this pretend relationship with Neteyam was going too far. You knew you had to have a serious conversation with him and move on with the final stage of the plan: turn him down. If not, you could ruin your chances of finding a real relationship. Without Neteyam.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Early in the morning, with a determined stride, you make your way to the beach, where you spot Neteyam, training with his father and a group of guys. You don’t think through what you’re going to do, when Jake suddenly notices you. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” he says, drawing everyone’s attention to you, “Anything I can help you with?”

You greet them, and gulp down, easily finding Neteyam’s curious gaze on you. Well, you have come so far, why not just get it over with?

“Can I speak to Neteyam for a moment? It won’t take long,” you turn to Jake.

Jake purses his lips, but nods at Neteyam, giving him a sign to go. He approaches you with a worried look on his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your training,” you apologize.

Neteyam obliges, when you lead him away from the beach, to talk in private. It’s still early, so most of the clan is asleep. You feel nervous under his patient gaze but you know it has to be done.

“I wanted to talk to you about us,” you begin. Neteyam nods, encouraging you to go on, “I know there’s still a week until the hunting festivities, and I promised to help you till then, but I don’t think I can.”

Neteyam’s eyes widen slightly, but he remains calm.

“Do you want us to stop pretending?” he asks softly.

“Yes, I think it’s for the best if we stop now. If we keep going on dates and…kissing, it might give people the wrong idea, and I don’t want that,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.

He looks down at his hands for a moment, thinking. You don’t interrupt him. He’s probably just trying to come up with the best way of telling his parents. He doesn’t seem saddened that he won’t be forced to spend time with you anymore. You’re the idiot who fell for her fake boyfriend.

“I understand, Y/N,” Neteyam finally says, meeting your eyes, “Thank you for helping me so far.”

“It’s fine,” you let out a breath, “Then it is decided. And Neteyam…we have to keep our distance from now on.”

Neteyam watches, as you walk away with a mixture of feelings. You're relieved, yet also disappointed that the fake relationship is over. You can't help but wonder if things could have been different between you and Neteyam, if only circumstances were different. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The following days seem to stretch with a painful slowness. You feel lost, with a constant sense of longing that follows you like a shadow. The realization that you had fallen head over heels for Neteyam and can’t be with him hits you hard. You feel stupid but you can't help thinking about him all the time, trying to carry on with your day-to-day tasks. But it seems like everything is taking more effort than it used to.

Every now and then, you catch a glimpse of Neteyam from afar, and he looks just as sad as you feel. You can't help but wonder if he's just putting on a show for the sake of the rumors, to make it believable. You wish you could just talk but avoiding him is the right thing to do for now. 

And as suspected, it doesn’t take long for rumors about you turning him down to start spreading throughout the clan. People notice that you two aren’t spending time together anymore and are avoiding each other. It is ironic, how they think that it's Neteyam going through a heartbreak, when in reality it is you. 

When Tsireya comes to congratulate you on the successful plan, she tells you that Mateä has heard the rumors and was preparing to confess to you. But you don’t want Mateä anymore. Instead of sharing Tsireya’s excitement, you can’t hold back any longer, and break down in front of her, confessing your true feelings for Neteyam. It is freeing to finally let it out, to have someone to confide in. As she comforts you, it feels like you are friends again, if only for a moment.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You got ready a long time ago. Your hair decorated with feathers and beads, face painted with white ceremonial patterns. In a few hours you would be joining the rest of the clan, to wish a farewell to the Metkayina hunters. The Tsahik would bless them with a prayer to Eywa, and after you sing your songs, the young men will leave. It was a tradition in your clan, that at the beginning of each year, the young hunters would travel by the water to an unfamiliar land. It was a test that every hunter had to pass, to learn to adapt in every situation and be able to stand for himself and for his allies. Sometimes, it would take them a few days to return back with a prey. Sometimes, it would last a full moon. It depended on Eywa’s guidance, and the hunters couldn’t return without receiving a blessing first.

Despite the value it held, the passage was still dangerous. It was painful for you to recall the instances when the groups returned with wounded or missing Na’vi. And although you were aware that it was Neteyam’s third time going on the hunt, you couldn't help but feel worried sick for him. Tonight, with the rest of your clan, you had to show your support, but your mind was contemplating not showing up at all. You didn’t want to see his face, afraid that it might make your heart break further. 

There was still time for the ceremony, as you wandered off to the water, trying to calm down your nerves. It would be disrespectful not to go, you had to show up and pray to Eywa that she keeps Neteyam safe and sound. You’re so deep in your thoughts, it takes you a second to notice Mateä sitting down next to you. You force a small smile to greet him.

“Excited for tonight?” he gestures to the extra pieces of ceremonial clothing you’re wearing on your arms and legs.

“Just wanted to be ready in time,” you’re not sure how to respond. You knew Mateä your whole life, yet it feels awkward to be with him alone. 

“I heard that you turned down the son of Toruk Makto,” Mateä emphasizes, you hum, “I will not lie to you, at first, when I heard about it, I was relieved. I thought that he doesn’t deserve you. But seeing you like this… it saddens me. I do not wish for you to be unhappy.”

“Thank you, Mateä,” you hang your head at his words. 

“Listen, Y/N,” he says softly, “We have known each other since we were babies. And while I curse myself for not spending more of my time with you back then, I do not want to regret this chance too.”

You meet his eyes again, nervously. You knew him pretty well. When Mateä was sure about something, he confronted it head on. Whether it was a rejection or an acceptance, he wished to know the truth in order to move on. 

“I always had my eye on you, Y/N,” he confesses, “What I didn’t realize that it was not just in a way one would look after their friend. It is shameful to admit but… it took me seeing you with another man to understand the true nature of my feelings. I like you, Y/N, and I wish to know if you feel the same way.”

You gulp down, tears filling up your eyes. The man you thought you could spend your life with was finally opening his heart to you, yet you didn’t want it. Your own heart belonged to somebody else. Oh Eywa, why couldn’t you enjoy what you had wished for?

“Don’t cry,” Mateä whispers, noticing the tears rolling down your cheeks, “Your heart belongs to him, doesn’t it?”

You can see the brave face he puts on, as you slowly nod your head. You feel so guilty and ashamed for admitting it to him. Mateä was really one of the only people in your life that you valued, and you were hurting him.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff, “If there was a way for me to make this better…”

“You don’t have to apologize, just don’t cry, okay?” he reaches out to wipe away your tears, and you nod again, “That is enough for me.”

You don’t feel like you even deserve his attention right now. 

“Mateä, if I could take away the pain that I’m causing, you know I would in an instant,” you mean it.

"I know, Y/N. But you can't help who you love," he says softly, "Regardless of what you choose to do, just promise me that we can still be friends, alright?"

"Of course, Mateä, you mean a lot to me," you nod, grateful.

"Good,” he stands up with a small smile, “Now, let's go. We don't want to be late."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You quietly take a seat next to Tsireya, who is anxiously watching Lo’ak from a distance. Despite knowing how important it is for Lo’ak to partake in the tradition, she can’t help but feel worried for him. You lay your hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

“Lo’ak is a skilled hunter. You know that Jake takes training very seriously,” you reassure her.

“You’re right,” she nods her head, then turns to face you, “You came with Mateä... Did you talk?”

You nod, pursing your lips together. It’s not difficult for Tsireya to realize what happened. It was only logical that you would reject Mateä because of your feelings for Neteyam.

“Oh, Y/N,” she lets out, pulling you in for a hug. You feel like it’s comforting not only you, but also her.

As the rhythm of the log drums slowly picks up, everyone falls quiet. The Tsahik makes her way to an open space, and the hunters quickly surround her in a circle, kneeling down. It’s then that you see Neteyam, wearing his headpiece and armor, with bow and arrows attached to his back. You can’t help but feel a twinge of worry for him but you push the feeling aside, afraid that it might ruin his luck. 

When the Tsahik’s voice fills the air with a praying chant, the hunters begin to sway in unison, seeking the blessing and guidance of Eywa for their upcoming journey. With the rhythm of the log drums, you find yourself lost in the moment too, closing your eyes and letting yourself be carried away. 

Eventually, when Tsahik stops, the hunters rise to their feet. As per practice, they must bid farewell to their loved ones, in case they may not return. You can’t help but feel nervous because this part of the ceremony is usually long, and Tsahik allows everyone to take their time. You know that soon enough you will watch Neteyam making his way to his family, and it hurts to know that he won’t be saying goodbye to you too. With every passing second, you feel more anxious, and all you want to do is get away from there. So, when the rest of the clan starts moving, you stand up to leave without even looking in his direction. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You rush through the trees, making your way into a small clearing, illuminated by the moonlight. You take a moment to breathe in and out with the sounds of nature, and eventually calm yourself down. When suddenly you hear a rustling of the leaves. 

Your heart skips a beat as you see Neteyam making his way to you, with a mix of concern and confusion. 

“Y/N, why did you run off?” he asks, as soon as he’s close enough for you to hear.

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss him, “Why are you here? You should be with your family now.”

“I already talked to my family,” Neteyam comes closer, and your breath catches in your throat, “But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you.”

“Neteyam,” you’re so confused at his behavior. Did he feel guilty because you looked upset? He shouldn’t be here with you right now.

“Y/N, why did you reject Mateä?” he asks suddenly, catching you off guard, “Tsireya told me.”

You don’t answer, holding his gaze. He hated rejecting girls, you can’t burden him now, before his hunt.

“Was it because of me?” he pushes.

“It does not matter, Neteyam,” you try to brush him off, “You have a hunt ahead of you, you shouldn’t be here right now. Shouldn’t be making your night about my stupid actions.”

“How can I not make this about you?” he says, irritated, “Everything is about you now, Y/N. Every moment of every night and day, doesn’t matter what I’m doing, my mind is occupied with the thoughts of you!”

“W-what?” you stutter, caught off guard.

“So for you to tell me ‘it doesn’t matter’ if you rejected Mateä for me… Of course, it matters. It matters to me, because... Because I see you,” he lets out, breathing loudly.

You stare in confusion, as Neteyam’s eyes jump all over your face, searching for a reaction. All you can do is think about how much you wanted him to say those words to you. To tell you how much he liked you, longed for you, the same way you did for him.

“I see you too, Neteyam,” you manage to whisper, reaching your hand to cup his cheek.

A loving smile breaks on his face, when Neteyam pulls you in for a kiss. He is so desperate to touch you, to know that it’s real. You’re real. Happiness overwhelms you, as you smile against his lips, your hands gently cupping his face. 

“I’m yours,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m yours forever,” you whisper back.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Did my best to upload this before my job interview tomorrow, so by the time I come back, I want you to leave your comments and tags!!! Seriously, I love that shit, it makes my heart melt. Especially when you submit questions

my 30k enemies to lovers fic (neteyam x ta'unui reader)

taglist: @ancientbeing10, @anm3mi ; @lovergirl-3000 ; @sunjayist ; @rensbby ; @okaylorrainee ; @cappsikle ; @raeeahn ; @yawneneteyam ; @oh-austin ; @midlife-crisisperson ; @teyums

[romancefranaticstay]

┕━━☽【𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑】☾━━┙

Category: fluff, smut, harry potter AU

Gryffindor!Bangchan x Slytheric!Fem!Reader

Part 2 ---> here

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

As a Slytherin you mostly distant yourself from other kinds of students. You could say you were the female Slytherin. Wise, fast, competitive, full of passion, and maybe a tiny bit cruelity...

Just got to make sure, you keep your social status up.

It was another day. Another day to show your talents. Another day to look down to other and not feeling any guilt by their sad looks, pathetic.

Everyone knew you at the school, thats because you were a tiny bit of a mischief, but during the lecture's you behaved very well.

You also had like three close friends. Their name's were Lee Know, Haerin and Yoongi. How you three met? It is a very simpel story...

You met Yoongi first. When the hat said you were a Slytherin, you were welcomed with big cheers at your table. Immediatly you found a seat next to Yoongi. You two shared the same interests, the same mind you could say. He was your very first friend.

Haerin always seems very sweet but she was just like you, also a mischief. How you two met? Well, the rules are very simple, you cannot walk around when its time to sleep. There is a certain hour were the students put the lights off. One time she wanted to explore the building, we were all freshmans one's and you know how curious we were.

You also had the same idea to wander around. You two crossed eachothers path and became close in a short time. Even tho you almost got caught, but because the school is so big, there was just no way that they could find two little mischiefs on time.

Lee Know was last. How come you two met? You could say your personality is just like that from a cat, but you were a clever cat. Also, maybe you didn't know yet, but you could change your form into a cat, i have the feeling this says enough. Lee Know is a big lover for cats. One time you were just laying in the grass, rolling around. Suddenly you felt a pair of hands petting you.

You walked a bit further and changed back into your normal form. He was to stunned to speak, but also a little bit embarassed. You didn't mind the petting. You two got into a talk and he was asking how he could turn into a cat, ofcourse that is not possible for him. He was sad when he heard it could be only achieved by genetics, but you promised you were his personal cat. Thats how your friendship started.

And now, three years later, you three are still the closest friendgroup. All of you never talked towards others, just because it did not feel right. Also nobody really had a chance to talk to you all, because you mostly ignored them. It was also known your hate for Griffindors. So, they all stayed away, very handy to be honest.

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'What is today's lecture?' you asked Haerin.

'Charms.'

'Excellent, i want to learn some new technique's.'

'For your mischief-behavior?'

'That is right. By the way..' you whispered 'are we going to wander again in the hallways?'

'Ofcourse, its our tradition.'

'We never got caught, not even once. How good are we?'

'Actually you are right. We are just to good.'

'Yes we are.'

You two were gossiping a bit. Talking about all the dorms. Also new paths you could take to explore the school. The stairs were difficult to climb because you had to carry your books with you. Today you would learn some new techniques, hoping that it would finally be something interesting. You arrived at your classroom. There were already some students present. The two of you always sat next to each other so you could always chat.

The classroom was filled with students, you hated that. Especially if some teachers preferred certain students. But what you hated most was that there was one person in your class who disrupted everything. Okay, he just disrupted it for you. Bangchan, one of the best and sweetest boy. Of course he was a Gryffondor, there was no other way. You already knew who he was hanging out with. Honestly, he hung out with everyone, but he also had a group of friends. Lee Felix, he was Hufflepuff, that wasn't a surprise. He was a real sunshine. Danielle was also a hufflepuff and also Felix's girlfriend. You were surprised that he was also friends with Hyunjin, a Ravenclaw. He also tried to start a friendship with you, but of course that didn't work.

Why did he want to be friends with you? That was of course very simple. He was friends with everyone, literally everyone, even Slytherins to your surprise. But he just wasn't friends with your group of friends. Lee Know, Haeren, Yoongi and you also ignored your own students. So it was impossible for him. But what you also didn't know at all was that he had loved you since freshman year. Strange isn't it?

You two were the exact opposite. But sometimes that fits. You could tell that Bangchan was in love with you. You never noticed that because you weren't concerned with such things. Even in class, he would stare at you, always trying to be inconspicuous, but everyone noticed. He was also quite popular with the girls. That is of course not strange, he is very handsome and his smile was the most beautiful treasure.

He tried to chat with you for 3 years. He tried to approach you, but he was too scared. If he saw you with your group of friends, he would leave as quickly as possible. Lee Know and Yoongi never looked friendly, they gave others dirty looks. So Bangchan tried to find a moment when you were alone, but you always had someone with you.

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

'We're leaving, so you know the rules. Don't touch our things.' Haerin said to Lee Know and Yoongi.

'If we find out that something has been moved, we will come and get you personally.' you said.

“So cute, threatening us like that. Don't create too many problems.' Yoongi mocked you.

"We're going to do that anyway, but okay, at least you tried to convince us."

You looked from left to right, just to make sure no one happened to be there.

"Okay, let's go."

You and Haerin sneaked through the hallways. You chatted quietly with each other. There was no one there, not even a teacher in sight, which was strange. The two of you found a room you had never noticed before. There were all kinds of spell books there. Lots of interesting books, to be honest. You took a lot of them, usually the ones you could do the most naughty with.

'We're back, and guess what we've brought with us!'

The boys both jumped straight from their beds and came to you.

"Wow, where did you guys get this?"

'Just taken from a room. We didn't even know it existed.'

'They look very old to me. But wow, powerful spells, perfect.”

"We have 8 more, so two books each, okay?"

You divided the books among yourself. This was a big win for you. Perfect, because you don't learn anything fun in class anyway.

"You guys really need to get back there."

'Okay, leave the difficult matters to us, we happen to be professionals.'

"Alright professionals, go to your rooms."

'Yes, actually, it's already 1am.' "Let's get going."

You dropped Haerin off at her room, unfortunately you two aren't roommates. The distance between your room and hers was quite large. How so? Because this year there were a lot of Ravenclaws, so they occupied a lot of the Slytherins' rooms. So unfortunately you have to go past the Gryffindors' rooms to get to your room.

You were walking quietly to your room. Of course you took some detours, just for fun. You actually wanted to go back to that room, with all those different books. Would you do it? Of course you do it. You turned into another hallway. You hopped around for a while until you saw the door of that mysterious room again. You quietly opened the room door and closed it behind you.

You looked at the different books and slid through the many bookcases. It was a spell paradise. Suddenly you heard the door creak. You saw someone sneak in. It looked like a good Gryffindor had a naughty side after all. You trailed behind the boy and tapped his shoulder.

'Hi there.'

He started and turned around. It was Bangchan.

'What do we have here? A Gryffindor. I never thought a Gryffindor would break the rules. Bangchan isn't it?'

He nodded, he had some books in his arms.

'What books do you have there? Can I see them?'

'O-ofcourse'

You picked up a book and started reading it. The spells in it were pretty boring, just spells to make plants grow faster.

"Not that interesting."

"Why are you here anyway, Princess Slytherin?"

'Discovered this room about an hour ago perhaps? A very interesting room.'

"Very private, don't you think?"

'Yes, that's possible. Do you come here often?'

"Yes, every night, I sneak around here."

"That's weird, we would have run into you anyway."

'What do you mean?'

"I always sneak around here with a friend."

'Really and truly? Maybe we take other paths?'

'That is possible.'

The two of you started talking a bit. He was actually very interesting. The conversations could last forever. But unfortunately you had to go to your own room when the clock struck two. You guys started meeting in that room every night. You tested spells, you talked about other secret rooms. You started growing closer and closer, but you didn't talk to each other during the day. It would be too suspicious.

The two of you walked together one night. Just having conversations, when you suddenly heard footsteps. At the end of the hallway was Snape. He didn't see you yet because he just turned around. Bangchan grabbed your hand and started dragging you. You heard the teacher shout something. The two of you ran to the dorms. Your room was way too far, so he brought you into his room. He closed the door softly. The room was very dark. The two of you heard footsteps. Bangchan dragged you into his bed. Luckily his blankets were very thick. You hid yourself under his covers, holding him tight. You heard doors opening. Suddenly, the door of Bangchan's room opened softly. You held onto his body even tighter.

The door closed again after a while. No one would suspect Bangchan of anything. But suddenly it dawned on you, Snap was checking all the rooms, so he would check yours too. You felt Bangchan's arm around your hip, you wanted to stay here forever, but you had to take action quickly. You jumped out of his bed and went to the window.

“What are you doing Y/N?”

“Shh.”

You turned yourself into a cat. You slipped out the window and looked from left to right. You saw the window of your room from far away. You started running quickly on the roof. You saw your window and gently pushed it. Luckily you never closed your window. Bangchan watched you push your window.

You quickly changed shape, and started walking quickly but quietly to your bed. You crawled under your covers just in time. Your door opened softly, you felt Snape's eyes on you. He moved closer to your bed and looked thoroughly at your face, just to make sure you were asleep. Luckily you were good at acting, otherwise you would have been caught. He closed the door softly again and you opened your eyes again. That was close.

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

The next day you were about to start eating dinner, when suddenly Snape spoke up.

'Last night, I saw two students wandering the halls. So we will take strict measures. The corridors will be checked several times, as will the rooms.'

Lee Know and Yoongi immediately looked at you and Haerin, but Haerin looked at them confused.

"I was in my room last night." she whispered.

Suddenly they both looked at you. You didn't notice. Bangchan was turned over and you both looked at each other with worried faces. Lee Know looked from you to Bangchan and then back from Bangchan to you. All three started to grin at each other. You looked ahead again. You saw your friends eyes looking at you. You also saw Snape looking at you, he found you very suspicious.

Supper started and it started to get loud again. Everyone talked to each other.

"Do you have something to tell us?" Yoongi asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

'Are you sure?' Lee Know asked.

'Yes, I am very, very sure. Just focus on the food.'

"As long as you focus on the food too, then Bangchan."

You became silent and turned to your friends.

"Can you shut up for once." you whispered.

'There was nothing, was there? I just said Bangchan.”

They all smirked. You kicked the leg from Lee Know.

'Oww! What are you kicking me for?'

You gave him a dirty look.

"Bangchan." Haerin coughed.

You looked up at the ceiling as your friends made fun of you again. "Bangchan."

"Bangchan."

"Bangchan."

"Bangchan." they coughed.

Bangchan heard his name all the time, so he looked your way. He saw you staring at the ceiling. Your friends were bullying you. He grins. After dinner your friends were still orbiting you.

"Bangchan." they all coughed.

'Are you perhaps ill? Because you guys cough all the time. Let me help.'

You hit Lee Know's back.

"Are you feeling any better?" you grinned.

'Ha-ha-ha-ha, so funny, so funny. Does BANGCHAN have the same sense of humor?'

'Shut up.'

'Are you shy now? Is it because I shout BANGCHAN all the time?'

You grabbed Lee Know's earlobe.

'Oww, oww, I'll stop. Let go off mine ear.'

'Will you stop?'

'I promise, I promise.'

'Good boy.' you smirked.

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

"Your friends like to pick on you, don't they?"

'Yes, it is very annoying, but yes. What can I do about it. They clearly weren't raised as well as I was.'

"We can't stay here so long this time."

'Yes, certainly not after today, that speech still gives me the creeps. Snape doesn't trust me, I get that.'

"I trust you."

"Yes, but you are you."

"You're you too, and it's definitely a compliment."

Your cheeks turned a little red, but you immediately cooled it down. After a while of talking and investigating, you left again. You guided Bangchan to his room.

'Sleep well.'

'Goodnight, princess.'

Before you left, you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. You didn't give him time to react as you sped away. You finally arrived at your room at 1am. You sat under the covers with your eyes closed. You waited for someone to check your room. Your door creaked a little, you knew someone was checking your room again. You waited until that person was gone. When your door closed again, you stood back up. You wanted to go back to Bangchan. You just wanted to be with him.

You opened your window, you turned yourself back into a cat because it was easier. You carefully stepped onto the roof and looked through every window. Just to see which one was Bangchan's. Finally you found his window. You tapped his window with your paw, no answer. You looked closer through his window, but he wasn't there. He was nowhere to be seen. You were a bit disappointed, but you went back to your room.

You crawled through your window. Suddenly you saw him standing in your room, Bangchan. You looked at him in surprise. He didn't see you, because you can turn into a black cat, and it was dark, so that was pretty normal. You walked over to him and changed back to your normal form. You tapped his shoulder again.

'Hi there.'

He turned around with a smile.

"Hello there, princess."

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Just visiting you."

'Just visit? Are you sure about that?'

'No...' He smiled at you with his beautiful dimples.

You put your pinky in one of his dimples.

'Beautiful.'

His cheeks turned red from this interaction. He placed his hands on your hips.

His face came closer to yours.

His eyes shone with the reflection of the moon. Your eyes wandered on his face. His face came closer to yours every second until your lips touched. The kiss was soft and tender. He turned you over so he could push you onto your bed.

His hands wandering on your body. Your lips reconnecting again.

"We have to be quiet, honey."

"We'll be quiet."

You started undressing each other until you were both naked. You looked at each other from head to toe. It didn't feel weird being naked around him. He gently laid you down on your own bed. His arms were muscular, his body was actually muscular. One of your hands squeezed his bicep. You both started giggling quietly. He gave you a quick kiss before positioning himself at your entrance. He first felt if you were wet enough. (Of course you were.) He slowly started pushing himself into you. It took some adjusting at first, but it didn't take long to get used to it. He grabbed one of your hands and pinned them against the mattress.

He pumped into you slowly. You tried not to moan. His hands felt soft. It was such a romantic interaction. Your hands went into his hair and you started to stroke it. His curls sometimes fell in front of his eyes, so you pulled it back. He started sucking on your neck, you had to bite your lips to keep from moaning. He adjusted his position at a moment and he found your sensitive place. He started hitting that spot.

Your legs were shaking at one point. You surrounded his hip with your legs. So you could push him closer to you. His kiss made you a little dizzy with pleasure. He started to be a little faster. You moved from back to front because of this event. At some point you felt your orgasm coming. You tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. You couldn't do anything. Bangchan of course saw that you were very close. He caressed your cheeks and whispered sweet words in your ears. He started biting your earlobe playfully.

'Cum for me, little princess.'

You dropped yourself onto the bed in pleasure. He kept pushing himself into you until he came with a groan. You both layed next to each other on your bed. You had never done this before. Yes, you were still a virgin, but that's normal at Hogwarts. When did you have time to make love, when the teachers were constantly watching the students.

"Never done this before." you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

'Never?'

"You did?"

"Mean I had practiced."

"You mean with someone there?"

'No... just... with myself...'

'You shouldn't be ashamed of that. Everyone does that at some point.'

'You too?'

"Maybe did it once."

"What were you thinking while you... did that?"

'Just someone.'

"Who was that person?"

"You still don't know?'

You turned over so you were on your side. You looked directly into his eyes.

'Me?'

Your cheeks turned red and you looked away from him.

'Hey, you shouldn't be ashamed of that. In fact, I'm glad you thought about me.'

'Do you?'

'Yes.'

He moved closer to you, his arms embracing you. You felt his warmth. His body was sweaty. You grabbed your blanket and covered him and yourself with it. You nuzzled yourself into his neck. Your arms hung from his.

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The sun shone through your window. You looked around and saw Bangchan still sleeping. You thought it was all just a dream.

'Wake up.' you whispered in his ear.

He looked around the room for a moment. His hair was all messed up. You kissed him on the cheek.

You walked around the school with Haerin. Gossiping about anything and everything.

"I heard Bangchan has a girlfriend."

You started to stutter a little.

'How so?'

“I heard he's sneaking around with her, a Slytherin. Do you know more about that?'

You cleared your throat.

'No.'

She grinned at you.

"Hmm, sure." she said under her breath.

Lee Know and Yoongi came towards you. Their faces said it all.

“Hi, Y/N. Slept well... last night.'

"Yes, probably."

'Slept well, didn't you?'

"Why are you all so weird."

"We're not weird at all, if anyone here is weird, it's you."

'Nice for you.'

"Let's change the subject, you know, I really like someone."

'Who?!'

"A raven claw."

“Eww.”

“Hwang Hyunjin.”

'That dramatic case?'

'Yes.'

"Have you tried talking to him yet?" Because staring at him from far away isn't really going to help.'

'I do not dare...'

'Just let me do it.'

Haerin tried to stop you but it was too late. You saw Hyunjin standing with Bangchan. You came towards him, Bangchan smiled at you.

“Hi, Hyunjin is it?”

'My friend there.' you pointed at Haerin who completely panicked.

'she wants to get to know you better.'

'She wants to get to know me better?'

'Yes. So yes or no, because you wouldn't keep a lady waiting, would you?'

'Is she free between 3pm and 4pm?'

'Probably.'

"Then send her to me." '

Thank you for your time.' you winked at Bangchan, who melted away.

'You are welcome, he wants to see you between 3 pm and 4 pm.'

Hyunjin waved at Haerin from a distance. She almost fainted.

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

[pastrymechanic]

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘༘ florida wind + troubles

➯ y/n is at a race where she runs into a high school memory she’d like to forget. thankfully ollie comes to her rescue.

➯ very fearful to post my first little writing but i tried my darndest so enjoy or not. constructive criticism is welcome 🌷

➯ warnings: high school bullies but hey we got ollie standing up for y/n!!

the rosso corsa sundress billowed in the soft yet humid miami wind. the peace of being back in beachy paradise felt like she was almost floating on a cloud while she flowed through the familiar paddock, speaking to fans and collecting gifts for ollie.

her sunglasses were pushed up to her head as she slid friendship bracelets onto her wrist, taking photos with fans while simultaneously collecting letters and plushies for her boyfriend. after it seemed most of the fans had been noticed and all important gifts had been placed carefully in her beige tote bag she began the walk back to the ferrari motorhome, passing the jet black mercedes garage as she goes. 

she doesn’t think twice as she passes other paddock goers, walking by two girls waiting near the mercedes motorhome until a familiar italian face pops his head out waving to the girl skipping along her way through the floridan paddock. a simple wave and smile to kimi is given before she continues on until a hand grabs her freckled arm and her journey back is cut short.

a quick squeal and she jumps back, heart thumping through her chest as the sunglasses previously rested atop her head, fall to the sidewalk and she meets the eyes of who stopped her. it felt as if every single high school memory flooded back to her in a second. the insults, the rude looks, the violence for a girl she’d tried to forget.

“y/n? long time no see, finally got to a race, i see,” the girl’s arms crossed over the sky blue dress, one y/n adored with its contrast against the hateful girl’s tan skin. 

“oh, yeah. you know my boyfriend got me paddock passes,” she let out an awkward laugh, twisting the ends of her sunglasses in her hands, desperately trying get this conversation to end faster. why years later did she have to run into her old high school “friend”?

“oh? where is he?” the girl stood behind her blast from the past asked, a matching dress in moss green adorning her body as she smirked at the memory of a girl.

“oh he’s just waiting for me in uhm, ferrari,” she spoke vaguely, trying desperately not to let them in on her private life even more than she already had.

“you don’t have to lie to us, y/n. it’s okay if momma bought the tickets for you,” the girl faked a frown. while y/n let out a deep breath, currently hoping and praying anyone would come pull her away, unfortunately the small curly headed mercedes driver seemed to disappear after a quick greeting from his close friend’s girlfriend.

“listen, i just want to enjoy my day with my boyfriend,” y/n tried to brush off the conversation, gently as the people pleaser she always was and will be.

“oh shut up like you actually have a boyfriend. give it up, if i don’t have one right now then you certainly can’t,” her old friend groaned, her hands dropping down to her sides in exasperation. almost as if she genuinely didn’t believe the girl stood before her once again, but who was she kidding she most definitely didn’t believe y/n.

just as she felt as though it would never end a hand snaked around her waist and the familiar british accent spoke beside her.

“hello amore mio, i was waiting for you,” (my love) y/n could barely turn her head before ollie turned her head for her and gave her a sweet yet short peck she’d never get tired of. 

“oh uhm just got caught up,” she smiled at him, leaning on his shoulder as he looked towards the girls. after years he could read the girl before him like a book and obviously these people were a bother, he just couldn’t figure out how.

“oh? i’m oliver,” he nodded towards the two girls who seemed gobsmacked, both rushing to speak to their old celebrity crush.

“oh my gosh ollie, i love you so much. i’m an old friend of y/n,” the previously harsh girl put her best smile on her face with a hand extended, promptly ignored by ollie.

“it’s oliver,” ollie corrected and y/n couldn’t help but let a small smile through at his sternness before he whisked her away back to ferrari, her dress twirling making her feel like a less woodsy, more motor oil version of giselle from enchanted.

“do you know i love you?” y/n looked up at the ferrari driver, a genuine smile shone up to him as he smiled back down, his happiness stemming from her sunshine smile.

“and i. love. you,” ollie fit a kiss between each word as they entered his driver’s room before she pulled away with a series of giggles.

“thanks for saving me from my high school bully,” her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes searched the briton’s face. her eyes filled with memories flashing through them, her mind only brought back to the present by ollie’s voice.

“you’re welcome love, it’s my offical duty as your lovely f1 driver boyfriend,” y/n gave a playful smack to his chest before rolling her eyes at his joking ego. with a small laugh she pulled him back into a hug so tight he thought he might loose his head to her love before any crash into a barrier. after her hold loosened ollie pulled back with pure love in his eyes before sighing in contentment at the girl before him. her gorgeous eyes staring back at him with her hair slightly tangled from the florida wind. oh how he would protect her from everyone who troubled her. anytime, anywhere.

[poeticallyspiteful]

Hi there.

Maybe a newt x f reader where reader its a healer ( doctor) . reader was a friend of theseus and they were working on a case from the Ministry of magic. Thank you so much ❤️

kiss it better

newt scamander x reader

fluff (making out)

cw: unedited, blood, a lil bit of ~suggestiveness~/(okay a lot a bit of suggestiveness i write like a romance novelist sometimes lol sorry not sorry), making out, newt is ripped and hot as hell

summary: newt gets injured and theseus knows the perfect person to kiss it better.

notes: thank you so much for the request love!!! i wasn’t sure exactly what you were looking for with this one so i just used my imagination so i do hope you like it. feel free to request something more if you don’t though :))

16+ please!!

“theseus, this is ridiculous, let go of me.”

it was a small cut, just a little one. a small mishap with alone of his creatures, that was all. such a tiny little ailment.

“it is bleeding profusely and goes all the way across your stomach, newt!” theseus exclaimed, pulling his brothers coat sleeve like a child dragging their parents through a candy store. “she’s very nice, you know that.”

oh, newt knew you were nice— that was the problem. you were so nice, so pretty, so incredibly everything that newt could hardly bare it. years and years of friendship with you and he could hardly even contain his joy at the sound of your laugh, at the mere sight of you. it made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to exist when all he could focus on was you.

“you’re working a case, theseus,” newt sighed, allowing his brother to pull him up the stairs to your apartment. “she’s probably reviewing files or something, it would be rude to interrupt her work.”

but the scamander brothers were already outside your door, and theseus was already knocking. before newt could brace himself for the wave of love sickness that would inevitably hit him the second he saw you, the door swung open and there you were; nice, pretty, perfect.

“hi newt, theseus,” you greeted, chest heaving (you may have ran across the apartment the second you’d heard their voices coming down the hall) “what can i— oh merlin’s beard.”

newt looked down, unsurprised to see the blood had seeped through his white shirt. he gave you a lopsided smile and you rolled your eyes, a pitiful attempt to avoid eye contact with the boyish man before you.

“come inside.”

theseus all but shoved newt inside, already straightening out his suit and brushing the left over floo powder off of his shirt. he looked up to you and his brother, unphased by the confused look on your faces.

“well, i best be off.”

you gawked at him. “your— your not going to stay?” you asked. he shook his head. “theseus! your brother is injured and you’re leaving?”

“we have a case!”

“it’s really okay,” newt said, bashfully, suddenly reminding you of the reason they were there.

scoffing, you turned back to newt, waving your friend off. “workaholic,” you murdered as you began searching for your emergency bandage kit.

and with that, theseus shut the door— but not before sending his brother a mischievous wink. newt felt a shiver down his spine.

sneaky bastard.

you finally found the small red box, pulling it open and rifling through it for a disinfectant and some gaws, as well as a mini suture kit.

glancing up at newt through your eyelashes, you hummed expectantly. “shirt off,” you ordered, some foreign sort of confidence surging through you.

newt swore all the brain cells left his mind. “pardon?” he chocked, suddenly not too concerned with his injuries.

“i can’t exactly fix you through the shirt. now c’mon, we don’t have all day,” you explained.

quickly, newt obeyed, shedding his baggy coat and undoing the bloodied buttons. very quickly, he felt exposed, but the bashful look on your face made him feel more smug than anything.

you had never seen newt shirtless before now, but my lord, did you wish the sight to be engraved in your mind till the day you died. you could see the viens that traveled up his tanned arms, and as shocked to see his biceps had been rather toned under that jacket all this time. his freckles spanned all down his chest and arms as well, dancing around the thin scars across him.

for a man so cute and clever, he was sure an enthralling sight to see.

clearing your throat, you finally looked down at the wound intently, relieved to see it didn’t look like too hard of a fix. with some shallow sutures and cleaning, he’d be better in no time.

“not too bad,” you murmured without thinking, entire body going cold at the implication. shit. the clever smile on newts face grew. “i— i meant the cut isn’t too bad, doesn’t look, y’know, infected.”

“good,” newt agreed, leaning back on his arms. his abdomen tensed at the movement and he hissed at the pain. “ouch.”

before you could look at him too closely, or think too much apparently, you knealt down infront of him. however, as he opened his legs to allow you space between them, you realized the predicament you’d put yourself in.

holy fucking shit.

you looked up hesitantly, feeling your heart race at the way newt looked down at you; nervous and kind, like he was just as surprised by your position as you were.

“this might sting a little,” you announced, trying to redirect his (and yours) attention back to the real reason you were on your knees.

carefully, you wiped the cotton pad across the cut, cleaning up the blood around the wound. newt hissed again, hands gripping the blanket laid across your couch. you had to will yourself to keep your eyes on the wound.

“almost done,” you reassured, finally looking up to see newts eyes screwed shut in pain. quickly, you dabbed at the far end of the wound, bringing your hands down quickly. “all done.”

newt sighed in relief, swallowing roughly. he glanced down to his stomach, feeling his head buzz as you looked back up at him. “whatcha thinking, doc?” he teased.

you could’ve died at the irony. you could not tell him what you were thinking right now.

“well, it’ll only need a few stitches at the edges there on the left, but it should be fine otherwise. just some bandages and you’ll be good,” you answered.

“no magic?” he asked.

“sadly, my regulations to do these sorts of healing charms only spans as far as britain,” you replied. “i’m working on getting the papers here in the states, but for now, just my handy work.”

newt smiled, another grin which made you weak in the knees. “your handy work is quite good.”

you ignored the heat in your face from the praise as you began you sutures. you felt newt shiver under your hands as they fluttered across his stomach, tracing the stitches and looking for any imperfections. finally satisfied with the stitching, you taped some bandages across them, and stood up once you were done. three easy steps, and nothing went wrong—

as you took a step back, you stumbled over the edge of your rug, fumbling backwards as you tried to regain your balance. before you realized what had happened, you felt newts hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you forward.

and forward was onto his lap.

you had spoken too soon.

you caught yourself with a tight grip on his bare shoulders, the skin soft and hot under your hands. your face was barely an inch from his, and your eyes met his in a brief moment of panic.

“s-sorry, i just didn’t want you to hit your head on the coffee table,” newt whispered, eyes darting form your eyes to your lips and back again nervously. he seemed very regretful of his action at first, but he didn’t budge to move you off of him, hands gripping the flesh around your hips.

“t-thank you,” you stammered, gathering all your strength not to squirm in his arms, your heart beating faster than your blood could pump.

newts eyes found yours again, thumbs making small circles in your hip bone. “have i ever told you that you’re very pretty?” the low rasp of his voice could’ve made you faint on any ordinary day, but given that you were practically straddling him, nothing could’ve made you more lightheaded. “especially up so close.”

���newt,” you whispered.

“what, love?”

“please kiss me.”

newt closed the gap without a second thought, kissing you gently. his lips were soft, but needy, pulling away and coming back for more over and over and over again. his hands traveled from your hips all the way up to your head, resting on your jaw. you moved your hands up his neck, playing with the curls on the nape.

you whined as he pulled away entirely, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. “why’d you stop?”

“isn’t there a rule about strenuous activities post surgery?” he teased, laughing as he pressed another kiss to your lips briefly; he had waited too long to do this and he didn’t wanna stop now. “making out seems pretty strenuous to me.”

“i’ll kiss it better.”