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prythianpages · 8 months ago

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When I Kissed the Teacher | Azriel

Summary: After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

Warning: reader thirsting for Az and fluff for my batboy ♥

A/N: @daycourtofficial suggested this song and idea! Though I did a poll and Az won, I couldn't help myself and also write a version for Cas (you can read it here) as a huge thank you for following and reading my stuff. I just reached 1K followers ♥

This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (:

The first moment you saw Azriel, you were instantly drawn to him.

His sun kissed skin radiated warmth. The hazel depths of his eyes hinted at wisdom earned through ages. His dark hair, a cascade of silken strands, framed a face sculpted to perfection. The Illyrian leathers he wore were a gift from the gods themselves as they only highlighted the well-defined muscles that lay beneath…

And his wings? Gods, those wings of his. They were massive yet delicate and iridescent. The way they always unfurled with such grace had your own wings fluttering in response.

But it wasn’t just the arresting beauty that surpassed all males you’ve encountered that drew you in. It was the impeccable way he carried himself. The mastery he exuded in combat, the patience he had while training you because if you’re going to be honest, you’re sure you pushed him past his limits. Yet, no matter how tough he was on you during training, Azriel was always kind to you outside of training grounds.

It didn’t take you long to fall for him and it didn’t matter how much you unleashed your inner turmoil onto the punching bag. Nothing could shake the strange fluttering sensation in your stomach every time your mind drifted to him. It’s like there were a million butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Sweat glistens on your forehead and your eyebrows furrow in concentration, too lost in your thoughts to pay mind to the silent spectator that had arrived minutes ago…until he finally steps out from the shadows and speaks.

“I’d hate to be the one on your mind right now.”

A misplaced punch lands awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through your hand. “Azriel,” you breathe, your cheeks flushing as you cradle your hand close to your chest. If only he knew…

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hazel eyes flashing with concern. He swiftly closes the distance between and gently takes your injured hand into his, inspecting it with a small frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You could never scare me.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Is that so?” He replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think I may be going too soft on you then”

“Soft?” You exhale in an incredulous manner, remembering the way your last training session with Azriel had ended.

He had taunted you and your Illyrian blood had heated at the challenge in his words, allowing him to coax you into combating him. Of course, you were no match for him. You had begun training only a year ago, thanks to Emerie’s invitation. Azriel had centuries on you. Your muscles were still aching from the aftermath.

Azriel chuckles. “Come,” he says, guiding you back into the house. His hand holds onto your wrist lightly, being careful so as not to hurt your injured hand further. “Let’s get you patched up.”

As Azriel carefully attends to your hand, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on him. His features are tense with concentration and concern, unbothered by the dark fringe that falls slightly over his eyes. Your uninjured hand is itching to run through those dark strands and brush his hair back for him.

You swear your heart skips a beat when Azriel lifts his gaze, catching your brazen staring. A flush spreads across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, missing the subtle, self-satisfied smile that graces Azriel's lips.

The sudden intrusion of Nesta breaks the spell, her figure leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, an amused twinkle in her gaze. While you were oblivious to Azriel's reaction, Nesta, caught the soft smile he allowed himself.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both of you turn your heads to find Nesta. There’s a smirk on her face as her eyes flicker between you and Azriel.

“Uh, no. Not at all,” you stammer, attempting to mask your embarrassment. “Just a little injury, that’s all.”

“Nothing to worry yourself over, Nesta,” Azriel chimes in, lowering his gaze to secure the bandage wrapped around your hand. “All done.”

“Thanks, Azriel.”

Azriel rises to his feet, and the shadows that dance around his shoulders seem to buzz with excitement over the soft way you had said his name. He pats your thigh, suppressing his smile as he stands.

Nesta's smirk transforms into a sly grin, her keen eyes not missing the way Azriel keeps his gaze averted from you to save you from further embarrassment. It doesn’t matter, anyway. His shadows are happy to inform him of the mortified look you send Nesta’s way followed by the way you silently mouth “stop” at her.

"Well, that’s great news,” Nesta replies, grasping your uninjured hand and pulling you to your feet. “Thank you for taking care of her, Az. Now, if you don’t mind, y/n here is late to girl’s night.”

As Nesta ushers you out, Azriel watches with a mixture of amusement and warmth in his hazel eyes. Unbeknownst to you, the unexpected emotions that had taken residence in your heart were mirrored in Azriel’s.

Under the soft glow of fairy lights, you sit cross-legged on the plush rug, facing Nesta while Emerie and Gwyn sit on either side of you. An array of snacks, provided by the sentient house, sits in the middle of the circle you and your friends formed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a girl’s night without the age-old game of truth or dare.

“Your turn,” Emerie grins at you, exchanging a knowing look with the other two females. “Truth or dare?”

Given the mischievous glint in Nesta’s eyes, it was an obvious choice for you. Truth would be the safer option. Emerie’s grin falters, disappointed by your choice.

However, Gwyn sees an opportunity. She wraps her blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her spot eagerly. She leans forward to grab a chocolate covered strawberry before nonchalantly asking: “Do you like Azriel?”

Nesta scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. Like we even have to ask.”

“True,” Gwyn giggles. “But I want to hear her say it.”

Heat rises to your cheeks for the third time tonight, creating a persistent warmth that makes you wonder if you might give yourself a fever. Your friends collectively hold their breaths in anticipation. Nesta’s gaze remains fixed on you, unwavering.

“Yes.”

The room erupts into squeals and teasing remarks, and your eyes widen, urging them to hush, terrified that Azriel, who is upstairs, might hear. It’s a futile attempt as their cheers only grow louder, making you bury your face in her hands.

“He likes you too.”

Your peak out from beneath your fingers. “What makes you say that?”

Nesta laughs in response but Emerie and Gywn are quick to tease you even further. Gywn assumes the role of Azriel while Emerie assumes the role of you as they exchange glances and lingering touches. The two females jump to their feet and wooden swords appear in front of them. You look up with a glare directed at the sentient house.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Gwyn uses her wooden sword to knock Emerie’s out of her hand. “Again,” Gwyn nearly growls as she tries to mimic Azriel’s deep voice.

“I can’t,” Emerie replies, feigning shyness.

“I don’t sound like that!” You cry out in disbelief, turning to Nesta. “I don’t sound like that, right?”

Nesta shrugs her shoulders, eyes sparkling with mirth at the scene before her. Emerie and Gwyn ignore your protests, continuing to pretend to be you and Azriel.

“Oh, Azriel, my love,” Emerie swoons, the back of her hand flying to her forehead while her other hand hangs in the air. “I think I sprained my wrist.”

Gwyn gasps dramatically, diving in to catch Emerie before she could fall back against the fortress of pillows behind her. “No, not my sweet y/n, who I’m absolutely smitten with” Gwyn coos, bringing Emerie’s “injured” hand to her lips and kissing it.

Then, Gwyn and Emerie absolutely lose it, the two females falling onto the fortress of pillows as laughter consumes them, unfazed by the glare you’re now directing to them. Nesta stifles her own laughter, turning her attention back to you.

“He definitely likes you,” she repeats, her words awakening the butterflies in your stomach. You wonder if she can hear them fluttering too. “But he won’t make the first move. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Absolutely not!”

Nesta grins at you. “We’ll see about that.”

“Whatever,” you huff out. “It’s your turn now. Truth or dare?”

The night wears on, filled with more laughter, more shared secrets, and the occasional embarrassing dare. You got your friends back by daring them to have multiple spoonfuls of ice cream and tomato sauce. The house keeps you well supplied with snacks and your glasses of wine never go empty.

When it’s your turn again, you hesitate for a moment. You had thought “truth” had been the safer option but now, you know there is no safe option.

This time, you decide to be brave.

“Dare.”

"Fucking finally," Emerie grins, looking at Nesta while Gwyn smiles at you. Their plan is unfolding seamlessly...

“We dare you to kiss Azriel tomorrow after training.”

Your eyes widen in panic. “What? No way!”

Nesta, seemingly unfazed, inspects her nails with feigned boredom. "Coward," she mutters under her breath.

Her words, though hushed, ignite something deep within you. Your Illyrian blood stirs, the challenge resonating in your veins. Your eyes narrow, fixing on Nesta. "What did you say?"

Nesta meets your gaze as she repeats herself. Louder, this time. “Coward.”

The room falls into a hushed silence as your friends await your response. You bite your lip, contemplating the audacious dare. It was not in your nature to back down from a challenge.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out a deep exhale.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

You didn’t sleep at all last night but as Azriel circles around you, his eyes holding a glint of challenge, you are wide awake. Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta watch from the benches facing the sparring grounds while Cassian watches from a closer distance, keenly assessing your every move. Too caught up in your feelings over Azriel, you had failed to realize that this morning’s training session was an evaluation of the skills you had been working on over the past couple of months.

To say you're nervous was an understatement because not only did you have to prove yourself as the aspiring Valkyrie you’d like to become, you also had to prove to Nesta that you were not a coward. Taking a deep breath, your grip tightens on your sword.

Azriel, with his wings casting shadows on the ground, moves with grace. Each movement is precise and deliberate as your swords meet in a flurry of strikes, the sound of steel ringing in the air. Though you struggle, you do your best to keep up and hold your ground, determination burning bright.

Sweat begins to cling to your skin and your envious of the way Azriel hasn’t even broken a sweat himself. With every strike of his and every parry of yours, he continues to push you, his strikes growing harsher and stronger. You literally blink and in that swift second, Azriel knocks your sword out of your grip. A hiss escapes you and you swear your hear Gwyn and Emerie snicker from the sidelines as they find this situation all too familiar.

With a sweep of his leg, you lose your balance and find yourself falling onto one of the training mats. Azriel’s lips twitch upwards as he points his sword toward you. “Do you yield?”

You are weaponless and at his mercy but your stubbornness continues to burn bright. “No.”

In a sudden burst of energy, you land a kick on him, knocking his sword out of his grip just as he did to yours. The bold move leaves him momentarily stunned, his shadows coiling back in surprise. You take full advantage of his distraction, hooking your other leg behind his knees and bringing him down to the mat with you.

Azriel can only blink up at you as you straddle him, eyes widening when he feels a dagger–his dagger–pressed against his throat. How did you–

He’s unable to finish his thought as you shift above him and swallows thickly at the sensation of your body on top of his. The way your breathing is shallow and uneven and the way he can feel the warmth radiating off your body–

“You will.”

Your words have his attention drifting back to you. A radiant smile breaks across your face and his own lips curl upwards, hazel eyes softening as they stare into yours. “I yield,” he murmurs, ever so quietly, you wonder if you imagined it.

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He does the same. And then the next moment, you’re kissing him. Softly and hesitantly, at first, but when Azriel responds, your heart fills with warmth. Your lips move against his with eager urgency.

Truthteller falls from your grasp and you bring your hand to grasp at the back of his neck instead, pulling him even closer. His hands find their place at your waist to keep you in place but then screams and squeals are piercing through the air. You’re immediately pulling away and jumping to your feet, absolutely flustered because in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten all about the audience you had.

You glance down at Azriel, desperately seeking a sign, but his expression is a mix of surprise and confusion. He looks nearly petrified. Your heart races and you begin to wonder if perhaps, you are a coward because all you want to do is run.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Doubts claw at the edges of your courage. What if Nesta was wrong? What if Azriel didn't like you? And you've just made a fool of yourself in front of him–your teacher– and your friends.

Turning around, your eyes meet with the delightfully entertained audience. Gwyn and Emerie, caught up in the drama, cling to each other with excitement and unrestrained giggles. Nesta stands with the same smirk she gave you the night before though there’s a flicker of surprise in her blue-grey eyes. She hadn't expected you to follow through with the dare.

Meanwhile, Cassian’s gaze is fixed on the body behind you and he throws his head back in laughter. Ignoring the whispers and amused glances from those around you, you hastily make your exit, blind to the way you left Azriel a blushing fool.

Cassian approaches his friend, who remains rooted to his spot on the floor. Azriel is still processing the whirlwind of emotions you've stirred within him. There’s a teasing grin on Cassian’s lips. “Are you okay there, Az? You look a little–”

Azriel snaps out of the trance you've cast upon him to glare up at his friend. “Fuck off.”

He then jumps to his feet, dusting himself off and ignoring the curious glances of the females nearby. Determination fills his eyes as his head turns toward the direction you ran off to. He fears you have misinterpreted his initial shock and he can’t let this moment slip away.

He needs to feel your soft lips against his again and more importantly, he needs to tell you that he feels the same way.

a/n: Hope you all enjoyed this one! Cas's version is already up!

tagging: @hellodarling1357, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #abba x acotar

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utterlyotterlyx · 4 months ago

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Starstruck

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Azriel had never wished upon a star, and after finding you, he wished he had done it sooner.

Warnings - FLUFFFFFFF, a touch of angst and sadness

There were thirteen stars that streaked across the skies during Starfall, Azriel had resound himself to noting each one as they made their journey across the same canvas each year, watching how they danced between one another and entranced the city with their show.

He sometimes wondered just how perfect someone had to be in order to be one of them, to shine so brightly and to be so adored that a whole city would wait an entire year to watch them for just a fleeting moment.

After watching for so long, Azriel knew each of them in his own special way, but he had always been particularly drawn to the singular star that always drifted to the back of the colony, like it was trying to stay for just a moment longer, and he could have sworn that he felt it watching him on more than one occasion, even when it twinkled idly in the sky and pulsed with pearlescent light.

One particular Starfall, Azriel gave in to his infantile wonder that perhaps wishing on a star would make all of his dreams come true, dreams that he had never spoken of to anyone. As silly as it felt, Azriel forced himself to close his eyes just as the stars began their dance; he inhaled deeply and wished, what for he'd never tell, but he did it.

In the days that followed, Azriel felt that tiny spark of hope evaporate within him, such showed in his tendrils of shadow who were feeling a little heavier than usual, less mischievous too. Cassian had noticed it, it was only small really and he was surprised that it was him who had caught it, but he knew Azriel better than anyone, he'd notice any slight change.

"What's wrong?" Azriel's chest was glistening in the last dwindling glance of sunlight, rising and falling rapidly as he worked to slow his breathing from his latest training session with Cassian.

Azriel spared Cassian a side-long glance and moved to unwrap his knuckles, the bandages winding onto the ground, "Nothing," he cast his eyes down to his knuckles, bruised and bloody and also throbbing from the impact of Cassian's abdomen, the feeling didn't do much to tempt his thoughts.

"Bullshit," Cassian cursed softly, "You're you but not. Tell me what's going on Az."

Sighing, slightly agitated, Azriel turned to his brother, noticing the stars leaking in from the distance, "I want my mate. I want what you and Nesta have, and Feyre and Rhys. I thought that maybe it was my turn next," his heart stung with the knowing of Lucien and Elain's accepted mating bond, he glanced behind Cassian, seeking comfort in something other-worldly, "I wished it."

Azriel hadn't meant to make Cassian feel guilty, he was glad that Cassian had found his mate, someone to love for the rest of his days., but it didn't stop him from feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his life.

The raw emotion in his voice caused Cassian to stand speechless before him, "I'm going to go for a walk, clear my head."

Without another word, Azriel shrugged his shirt over his head and took off into the skies, unable to look back at the pained expression on Cassian's face. Part of him was ashamed for his feelings, he was Spymaster of the Night Court, anyone who loved him would be in constant danger, perhaps that was why he hadn't been gifted with a soul-bound other.

Landing on the cobbled streets of Velaris, Azriel began trapsing through the city with his head hung low, not particularly paying attention to anything until his shadows coiled around his arms and tugged at him. The Shadowsinger scoffed, pushing himself onward and choosing to ignore his companions, only barking at them when they swam over his face and restricted his vision; Azriel swatted at them, "What?"

One particular shadow, the one most prone to dancing and becoming lost in someone's hair, hovered before his eyes, waltzing into the night-kissed air and forcing Azriel to focus. He hadn't realised how far he'd walked until he took a moment to scan the area, he had wandered all the way down to the Sidra, so much being clear from the bubbling drifting from the riverbank as the water sang over the rocks.

Then he heard something that made his heart skip, a soft hum, no louder than a hummingbird, winding down the cobbled path to meet his ears. It was sweet and calm, full of life and serenity, and he couldn't stop himself from following it.

His shadows shivered with each step, each one becoming more active with every metre forward they were carried until they saw you, you were kneeling in the water that perfectly reflected the sky, fingers dipping beneath the surface whilst it swam by you. Your hair was unbound and kissing the surface in a way that sent small ripples through it whenever they would collide.

Azriel stood on the bank and watched you, not being able to place you in his mind, he listened to your song, unwilling to stop his shadows from drawing themselves toward it. Only when those tendrils of darkness grazed against your skin did the song halt, it was replaced by a soft giggle, one that could have made the darkness part to allow in the sun if it wished it.

"Can I help you?" The shadows shuddered at your question, convicted to dancing to the sound of your melodic tone, coiling around the finger you had raised to your eyes to inspect them closer, "How peculiar."

The drenched skirt of your pale blue dress pooled at your feet when you stood, but you didn't take your eyes off of the shadows. And, as if realising how potentially rude they were being, Azriel moved to intervene, to beckon them back to his side, "I'm sorry, they don't seem to want to listen to me today."

Turning to face him, Azriel lost every thought in his mind, the only one lingering in his consciousness being that you were easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, "It's alright, I don't mind," you told him with a smile as wide as the Sidra. His shadows continued to dance around you, slithering into every gap possible to just be as close as they could, "Who are you?"

Azriel was slightly taken back by the question, everyone knew who he was, and he didn't mean to feel egotistical when he thought that, most people were afraid of him, and everyone in the city certainly knew who he was. "I'm Azriel," he attempted to call back his shadows but they refused to leave you, he had half a mind to waltz right up to you and pluck them from your skin, but he stayed put, "Who are you?"

"Y/N." Beautiful.

"I haven't seen you here before."

The moon reflected off the surface of the Sidra,

Humming softly, you glanced about with a furrowed brow, like you were trying to find something familiar until your eyes dragged upward and settled on the sky, "And where is here?"

"Velaris. The City of Starlight."

"Starlight," your voice drifted, eyes unwavering in their upward gaze, "How pretty."

Perhaps Azriel should have been cautious of you, the beautiful thing with the long hair and voice as tempting as a siren's, but he wasn't, not even a little bit. If anything, Azriel had found a comfort within you despite only being in your presence for a mere few moments.

After a few moments, your wandering eyes returned to earth and you moved past him, up toward the cobbled path he had strayed from to find you, "Can I walk you home?"

Turning on the balls of your feet, you grinned at him and continued backward, "I'll be fine."

Azriel took a single step forward, "Will I see you again?"

"If you wish it," you told him with a knowing smirk, one that he didn't recognise, before turning from him and disappearing into the night, leaving Azriel wondering just exactly who you were to be able to cause his shadows continue to whisper your name into the darkness.

The next time Azriel saw you was in the Palace of Threads and Jewels, he had only caught a glimpse of you, but your scent of jasmine and pine lingered where you once stood. Azriel excused himself away from Nesta and Feyre, both of who glanced to his hurried form as he retreated from them.

Rounding a corner, he found you inspecting a bouquet of night lilies, your fingers gliding across the velvety petals with a genteel smile on your lips, one that widened when his shadows curled around your ankles, "Hello again," you called to them endearingly, beckoning them up to your fingers where they happily rested whilst you brushed the tip of your nose again them.

Azriel felt his heart clench at the action, and he only pulled himself from his entranced state when you graced him with your attention, "Hello to you too, Azriel," your hands were folded neatly behind your back, his shadows now resting on your shoulders.

"Hello," he took a step forward, and then he noticed just how small you were in comparison to him by the way you craned your neck up to look at him, "I knew I'd see you again."

A grin formed on your lips, "Did you wish it?"

"Perhaps,” Azriel folded his arms across his chest and drank you in, the pinned back hair and the baby whips that floated over your forehead, the white dress that hugged you in all of the perfect ways, and those bright doe eyes tinged with a touch of mischief.

"Then consider your wish granted,” the heel of your shoe clicked against the floor, the aroma of fresh roses and foliage filling the air, and you cocked your head at him slightly as if appreciating his beauty, “How have you been?”

In all honesty, Azriel had been feeling much better since that night he left Cassian after training, and that was because of you. Azriel couldn’t stop thinking about you, how lost you seemed but also not afraid, how gentle you seemed, and your voice, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Without wanting to admit it, Azriel had been looking for you, lazily, but with a hope he thought he had lost. And now there you stood, as pretty at the petals that drifted along the floor.

“I’ve been alright,” he leaned against the pillar of the stop, angling his body into you. It had been an age since someone had asked how he was, especially in the way that you asked, with genuine intrigue and care. “How have you been?”

Smiling, you answered, “I’ve been good,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and giggled softly as a shadow flowed through your hair.

“I’d like to get to know you,” he said with gentle conviction and you couldn’t help but blush, enjoying the sight of those soft eyes and rough exterior clad in black pants and a matching long sleeved cotton shirt.. “If you’d let me?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” you shrugged and took a step forward, close enough to scent the cedar on his clothes, “What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing,” Azriel internally cursed himself for responding so fast, showing his eagerness to spent more than a moment under the moon with you.

With a knowing smirk you huffed out a laugh, “Well, walk with me? I want to explore a little.”

Not needing another word, Azriel pushed himself from the beam and stepped aside for you to slip past him, slowly meandering through the market and observing everything that you could.

“Where is it that you live?” Azriel asked, happy to simply watch you scan the shelves and touch anything that looked soft.

Without looking back, you answered his question with a voice as warm as summer rain, “A little cabin by the streams,” the cotton of your bag brushed against your skirt as you swayed from side to side, craning your head and standing on your tiptoes to glance at the top shelves.

Azriel knew the place, he had always been drawn to it, the white window frames that turned yellow in the golden light that poured from insane, the thatched roof that was almost plaited in the finest of knots, and the tiny garden erected toward the back facing the forest where an array of flowers of all breeds bloomed and basked.

“And you? Where do you live?”

You led Azriel down the cobbled streets, picking up trinkets and admiring their beauty before placing them back on the shelves, “I live in the House of Wind,” from your furrowed brow, he knew that you didn’t know of it; Azriel placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you gently, reaching beneath your chin to angle your head upward, “Up there.”

“It looks beautiful,” you hummed, “You’re very lucky.”

“Yes, I am,” you missed how he looked to you when he spoke, captured by a gleaming stone resting on a plush cushion.

Closing the gap, you took the stone in your hand, resting it in your palm and letting the chain sway against your wrist, “It’s so beautiful,” you spoke in a tone a hush above a whisper, the rustle of a curtain begged your focus and you glanced up to see an elderly woman approaching you.

“A beautiful stone for a beautiful lady,” her voice rasped, but her kind eyes were fixated upon you, smiling in their own way.

“How much?” Azriel asked, appearing behind you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Azriel, no. It’s too much,” you protested, it was an ornately beautiful jewel, a white stone that reflected against the cloth of the ceiling that billowed in the breeze, “I can’t.”

Azriel, nodding his silent message to the shopkeeper, took the chain in his marred fingers and draped it around your neck, clasping it at the back and watching as your fingers reached to brush against it, “It was made for you.”

“Thank you,” you turned around to face him, and it took every ounce of willpower to not brush his fingers against your cheek.

The dropping sun cast its glow over your face, and Azriel gasped slightly, the sun turning your eyes molten and pristine, and felt the golden thread within him thrum into place. For a moment, the world seemed clearer, his senses heightened and your scent seeped into the foundations of his being.

From the look on your face, you had also felt it, your lips had parted slightly and your eyes were wide and glistening, “It’s you,” he was in disbelief, but his heart sang when you rested a hand over his heart, “You’re my mate.”

A gentle nod confirmed it, and Azriel couldn’t stop his hand this time from brushing against your cheek, his thumb dragging over your skin, “Yes.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever find you,” he whispered, “You’re real?”

“I’m real,” you entwined your fingers with his and brought them to your lips, kissing the marred flesh of his knuckles, “I’m here.”

Azriel struggled accepting that someone as perfect as you had been chosen to be his.

He didn’t want to rush you into anything, he wanted you to be comfortable, but he’d be lying if he said that every single part of him wasn’t irrevocably obsessed with you.

But when you met his family for the first time, and held Nyx and rocked him to sleep, did Azriel know that there was no one more made for him than you. Nesta and Feyre adored you from the moment they laid eyes on your sweet smile and large eyes, they had practically whisked you away to a separate sofa to probe and gossip with you. After you had spoken to Cassian and Rhys, his brothers moved to him with wide smiles, telling him that you were perfect.

Then there was Nyx who cried every time someone tried to take him from you, his nuzzled into your side, resting his head against your chest as he slept.

In the months that followed, his adoration for you only grew, and the night you had accepted the bond had been the most magical moment of his life. And not long after, he made you his wife in the most ornately warm ceremony the city had ever seen.

Each day was full of love and laughter, he moved into the cabin with you, and enjoyed every single moment of his life knowing that you were the one waiting for him at the end of the day.

Starfall had rolled around again, reminding Azriel that it was the same night a year ago that caused him to wish for you. He stood with you on that balcony, a stones throw away from the rest of his, and now your, family as the skies opened and the stars began their descent.

“I’ve never seen it like this before,” you uttered, hands resting on his forearms that were wrapped around your waist.

The stars soared, but their usual course was disrupted by their decision to fly toward the balcony. They hovered before you and Azriel and he felt your body leave his embrace, your fingers outstretched to float between the stars that waltzed around your body, “I’ve missed you too,” you told them, skin glittering with their kiss.

Bewildered, Azriel watched you have a conversation with the stars that painted the sky each night. Frowning, he counted the stars, noticing each one as the ones he knew and named, the same ones he created stories and lives for, to only find that one was missing, the last one who always lingered. Then his eyes moved to you and he wondered how he hadn’t realised it before.

The last star was you.

It made sense, you had always shone so brightly in comparison to others. Everyone had always felt settled around you, and Azriel had just thought that it was your serenity that caused it, but no, it was because you were a star.

“You’re a star,” that’s why you didn’t know where you were that night he had found you, it’s because you had fallen from the sky and landed his city, his home.

Smirking slightly, you walked into his open arms, sighing as the stars moved around you, “I prefer to say a wish come true.”

Azriel, chuckling at your words, hooked a finger beneath your chin and pulled your eyes upward, his breath fanned over your face. “If I’d have known then I would have wished for you a lot sooner.”

Authors Note

Just a little one from me 😚

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alexthetrashyracoon · 8 months ago

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Simon is the center player of his ice hockey team and tonight they had ordered one last trainings session before the next big game against the Shadows.

When he walks onto the ice rink, he is frozen all of a sudden as he watches a figure on the other side of the rink slide across the ice, gracile like gazelle.

You look beautiful as you slide around the rink, doing your jumps and pirouettes and whatever else figure skaters did, not that Simon knows much about the gentler side of ice skating.

You come to a skiddering halt close to Simon, a smile on your red face.

“Sorry, I’ll be gone in a second. Have lost track of time.” You say and look at Simon before hearing his coach agree.

“I’m Simon.” He says and helps you over the step that leads off the ice. You nod at him as a thanks and tell him your name in return. “You should come to the game tomorrow.”

“Is that a date?” You chuckle and reach for the towel on the nearest bench to wipe away the sweat from your forehead.

“No. It will be a date after the game, the game is just to push my ego and show that I’m worthy of your attention.” He grins and skates over to where his coach stands to rip a piece of paper from the clipboard and ignores the man’s complaints before he writes his number down and hands it to you.

And of course his team wins the game the next day with easy, Simon puts all he has into the game just to impress you.

Not that he need to, you had a crush on Simon for the longest of time, maybe since the first time you two crossed paths on the ice.

After that date you join him for every single hockey game and Simon, he drags the rest of the team along, joins you for every single figure skating competition that there is. He doesn’t even stay away when you qualify for Olympia and follows you to cheer on you.

And when he and his team makes it to the nationals, oh boy, you have your luggage packed already, not missing seeing him flattening his enemies and taking win after win!

#cod x gn!reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #cod x you #cod x reader #alex writes

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cookiekissers · 23 days ago

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hmm.. HHow about Shadow Milk Cookie NSFW requests with a top male reader? Yes bottom Shadow milk-

🔥🔞 [Shadow Milk Cookie x Male Reader NSFT]

Shadow Milk Cookie had seen you around the Laboratorium working as a researcher. Such a diligent little worker, running back and forth with stacks of papers in your arms, busy creating a suitable vessel for him to inhabit!

He loved to make you laugh, you were always such a diligent little audience member for his performances. He liked having your attention, even if you were supposed to be working. Teasing you was even more fun!

Shadow Milk Cookie adored all the ways he could make you squirm, and there was nothing you could do about it. He was a Beast! What could you hope to do against him? And you were at work as well, so you couldn't do anything to retaliate to his blatant flirting either. Seeing your face flush, and you fidget and writhe as he had you pinned against the wall, rubbing his hand over your crotch and watching you grew more and more aroused was all the entertainment he needed in a day. And of course, he would never go far enough to let you finish.

"No, no, silly, Y/N Cookie! You're at work, you can't do that sort of thing here~" Shadow Milk taunted. You panted hard and your body was shaking, begging for Shadow Milk Cookie to give you the release you desperately desired. But quickly after he denied you your orgasm, he would disappear with a laugh, leaving you trembling and frustrated. Shadow Milk couldn't help himself. It was just far too satisfying to keep from doing!

Besides, he knew you liked it. You craved it.

The initial trigger for what became these secret naughty sessions was that you had obviously become captivated by him. Shadow Milk Cookie would often catch you staring at him from your research desk while waiting for his promised vessel to be made. You would look away bashfully once your eyes met. Shadow Milk Cookie could see the desire in your eyes, and he jumped at the opportunity to have a new toy to play with.

Now, all he had to do was give you a look, and you would quickly excuse yourself from your work and find a quiet, closed off area where you would wait for him to do whatever he wanted with you. Shadow Milk Cookie had done this many times with you now. And each time he would deny you what you wanted. Because it wasn't fun if you weren't trembling and begging for him!

Today, as the work day was winding down to a close and your coworkers were leaving after a long day of dough mixing and experimentation, Shadow Milk Cookie was doing his usual routine. Putting on his little shows and teasing you from afar.

The room was now empty and your heart thumped in your chest as you bid you last coworker good night. You made an excuse to stay behind late today. You could see Shadow Milk Cookie grinning at you from the corner of your eye, and in an instant as soon as the door closed behind your coworker, he was behind you. Teasing you yet again by grinding his crotch against your ass.

"Oh, Y/N Cookie~ You're staying late, hmm?" He whispered seductively, you blushed profusely as you quickly became aroused at the little contact from the jester. Because of Shadow Milk Cookie's constant refusal of your desires and edging, you had essentially become his trained pet. You had been conditioned to crave any bit of physical affection that he gave you, and had lost control of your urges. Now he was able to manipulate you when he pleased. Shadow Milk Cookie was a masterful puppeteer. But this time, it was going to be different. You were going to get what you wanted. You were going to get payback.

You held back a moan and nodded your head quickly in response.

"I don't suppose you can spare a little time to play with me, hm? Right, my little pet~?" Shadow Milk Cookie purred sweetly, pressing you harder against your desk. You gasped slightly, feeling Shadow Milk's hard erection against you.

For a brief moment, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe this time Shadow Milk Cookie was serious, and you would finally have sex and get everything you wanted. But you snuffed out the thought quickly, knowing better than to get your hopes up.

"Y-Yes... I'm yours." You whispered shakily. The words left your mouth before you could even think about them. Shadow Milk Cookie laughed.

"That's a good boy~" He praised. Like a drug, those words of praise sent shivers through your dough, only arousing you further. You closed your eyes in delight as Shadow Milk Cookie continued to grind against you. You tried not to whimper loudly as his hand travelled down into your pants to where you desperately needed him, but failed miserably. Shadow Milk Cookie began to tease you through your underwear. But you couldn't take it any longer.

You whipped around and grabbed Shadow Milk Cookie by the shoulders and switched places with him, slamming him onto your desktop, knocking your computer and everything on the desk to the floor. Shadow Milk Cookie's eyes widened as he looked up at you in surprise, where you were tearing a hole in his leotard. A lustful smile spread across his face as he gazed at you unzipping your pants.

"Oh~ Y/N Cookie. Now this is a surprise." Shadow Milk Cookie cooed. You gripped him tighter and pulled him closer to you by the hips, your breath ragged and hungry. Your hips bucked eagerly against him as you struggled to get your length inside him through your lustful hazy.

"You want me this badly, hm? Come to daddy then, Y/N Cookie!" He teased. His cock twitched with his excitement. You lined hastily up with Shadow Milk Cookie's entrance, and pushed inside him roughly. He gasped as you began thrusting into him fast and hard, like a starved animal. Shadow Milk Cookie wrapped his arms and legs around you tightly, and moaned deeply as you hit him right where he wanted. Oh, he hadn't felt this good in such a long time. It was going to drive him nuts.

"Ahhh!! Mmmm! That's right, Y/N Cookie!" Shadow Milk Cookie cried out in pleasure. "You want me, don't you? You've always wanted me! Mm! Just like that!" He shouted. Shadow Milk Cookie's voice encouraging you drove you crazy and the room filled with the lewd slapping of your hot, wet, and desperate movements. Your cries mingled together in a mix of lust and ecstasy. Shadow Milk Cookie clutched at you tightly as your hips rocked violently against him. He gritted his teeth, holding you so tight and trying to buck his hips to match your rhythm.

For a moment, you had the lingering thought of pulling out and denying Shadow Milk Cookie release like he had done to you so many times. But your mind was filled with nothing but pleasure, and even if you wanted to, you didn't think you could stop. You were so close and Shadow Milk Cookie felt so good. You didn't want to stop, you wanted more, wanted to prolong this bliss for as long as you possibly could. But before you could even think about holding back, your hips shuddered, and with one final surge, you came undone. You thrust inside Shadow Milk Cookie, burying your length in him up to the hilt, cumming hard and filling him with your warm cream.

After a couple of seconds, you were completely spent. You panted hard and collapsed against Shadow Milk Cookie's shoulder for support, your cock still throbbing inside the slender jester.

Shadow Milk Cookie caught his breath as he came down from the high, his usual smug attitude long gone. His legs still shaking from the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm. Shadow Milk Cookie's stomach and chest were covered in his own cum.

"Haha... My little Y/N Cookie. My handsome little pet..." He breathed. Pulling you closer to him, you curled up into his warmth. Shadow Milk Cookie ran a hand through your hair gently. You turned your head to look at him, your cheeks flushed pink. The both of you still hot and covered in sugar sweat.

"I'll have to reward you for this lovely service," Shadow Milk Cookie purred, smiling slyly up at you. He kissed you gently, and you leaned into it, already hungry for more. You couldn't stop your hips from beginning to grind into Shadow Milk needily.

"And I think we should also talk about our arrangement. What shall it be, Y/N Cookie~?" Shadow Milk Cookie asked with a grin. You bit your lip slightly.

"Anything you want, Master." You murmured. Shadow Milk Cookie smirked at your answer. He loved making you beg for anything you desired.

#cookie love letters 💌#spicy cookies 🔥🔞#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run x y/n #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #x reader #x male reader #male reader #trans man reader #cr x reader #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie x male reader #cookie run nsft #cookie run smut

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areyouwell · 3 months ago

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Somnophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of sleep. Children or adults with this condition may experience hallucinations, voices and in some cases, death.

Ch.4

Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, no spoilers ;), mentions of suicide attempt, scarring, nightmarish sequences

Word count: 13.2k

A/N: a reward for all your patience :)

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside

‘Told ya you looked tired. Get some rest, see you at 11 am. L.’

You’d woken up that morning to a note scribbled on a folded piece of paper, propped up against your alarm clock in such a way that you couldn’t actually see the time. And it had been like that every day for almost a month before that month fell into two. You and Logan fell into a comfortable rhythm, teaching classes together every other day, and on the days you weren’t teaching, he was helping you develop your mutation.

You’d cook together, sometimes for the kids as well, and spend hours talking over dinner before heading into the lounge and cosying up in front of some movie or tv-show. Most of the time Logan noticed just as you were nodding off and would switch off the show before carrying you back up to your room. Sometimes you were still awake, but you didn’t protest. It was all part of the routine.

However, one thing was bothering you slightly. You’d assumed, with Logan’s more animalistic instincts, he’d waste no time pouncing on you and dragging you into bed, though the moment things would get a little heated between the two of you, he’d pull back, breathless and warm, muttering something like “Not here.” You were fine with it, for now at least, but considering the two of you went from strangers to kissing in the kitchen to Nick Cave, it took you off guard a little.

Though you’d settled on the explanation that maybe he wanted to take things a little slower, you were frustrated. Pent up. And it was taking all of your concentration not to pounce on him now as he shrugged off his flannel shirt. Neither of you had class today, which meant it was a training day. Not that your training has been useful. You seemed to have regressed, being unable to pull the shadows out with you as you had that first time. It was a completely different kind of frustration, and it was pissing you off. Majorly.

“I’m starting to think Xavier was wrong and that we all collectively imagined what we saw a month ago,” you lamented, hanging up your hoodie on one of the hooks near the door. You’d occupied a regular training room for this session, opting to leave the danger room for another day. Nothing had been accomplished, though it did serve to prove once again just how well you and Logan worked together.

Logan folded his arms across his chest. In truth, he thought this was going to be a lot easier than it was turning out to be. The progress you’d made in that first session set him up with a false sense of confidence, though he had to remain encouraging, despite the growing concern that you may not be able to pull this off. That was why he’d asked Charles to take over from Scott. He’d lost too many people in his life and was unable to do anything about it. If things were going to go anywhere between you, he needed reassurance that you weren’t about to disintegrate in his arms. Because the thought of ever losing you genuinely terrified the shit out of him. “When was the last time Charles was wrong, hm?”

You huffed, rolling your shoulders, wincing slightly from the cracking of your joints. “First time for everything…” you grumbled, hooking your elbow around your other to stretch out the muscle. Logan swallowed, his eyes drinking in your appearance. A pair of fitted gym leggings that had him gritting his teeth every time you turned around, paired with a front-zip sports bra that his fingers itched to tug down. He could smell your morning shower, the deodorant you used, whatever body spray you decided fit for today. Never one of those gaudy, overly fragrant perfumes. You preferred a softer scent, something that gave the allure of a misty forest, or a rainy lake.

Fuck you smelt divine. Logan’s teeth ground together, wondering if what he had planned for today was a good idea. He’d been holding himself back from you. Fear of hurting you or driving you away had him shoving his instincts and desires to one side, burying them deep, deep beneath the surface. He could smell it on you, though. When he barely had enough strength to control himself, with wandering hands and lingering touches. He could smell how turned on you got and it killed him to step away from you every goddamn time.

It was fucking torture. He was torturing himself. He was torturing you.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all… but it was a little too late now.

“I don’t wanna focus on your mutation today…” he began, and you whipped around to face him.

“What? Why? Isn’t that kinda the whole point?” You challenged, and Logan sighed. You were irritable today, and rightly so. He recognised how the lack of progress must have been making you feel, and he knew you were scared, and he wished he could tell you he was scared too. How he was terrified of failing you. But he couldn’t, not if he wanted you to have someone to lean on.

“You rely on it too much.”

“Says the man who tanks bullets because he knows he can heal.” you shot back, folding your arms defensively. Logan took a breath.

“That’s different, sweets. ‘S not circumstantial. You get surrounded in the sunlight with nothin’ around to duck into, and you’re dead.” However, that would never be the case because Logan couldn’t imagine a situation like that where he wouldn’t be by your side. But the hypothetical worked to make his point.

“Okaaaay, what do you suggest then, Professor?” there was nothing malicious in your tone this time, the curve of your smile doing dangerous things to his head. He pushed it down again, cursing his body’s truly terrible timing, before gesturing to his chest.

“Hit me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard. Hit me.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

You took a step back. “I’m not gonna fight you, Lo’.”

“Why?” he took a step forward, smirking wildly. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

“Yes! Extremely!” Logan barked a laugh at your honesty, earning himself a smile of your own. “Look at you! How is this a fair fight?” you grinned broadly at the ridiculous idea of sparring with him. “I pick my battles, Howlett, and I’m not about to pick one where I get my ass handed to me!” you exclaimed through bubbles of laughter. Logan listened to the constant urge to be closer to you, stepping forward to wrap you in his arms, your chin against his chest as you craned your neck to look up at him.

“I’ll go easy on ya, how ‘bout that?” He was provoking you. The sly bastard knew you couldn’t deny a challenge like that, and the way your eyes narrowed told him he’d hit the jackpot.

“You’re incredibly grating, you know that?” you hissed, wriggling to free yourself from his arms, only for him to respond by holding you tighter.

“Yeah? You gonna do anythin’ about it?” he smirked again, and you had an extremely strong urge to wipe it from his stupidly handsome face through any means possible.

“Let me go and find out.”

“Get free.”

You huffed. “Logan I’m serious.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah? So am I. Get free. And don’t use your mutation.” If you weren’t so pissed off, you would have fainted at the way he fucking growled. But instead, you took a calming breath. Annoyingly, he was right. You did rely on your mutation a lot when in combat. You’d been lucky enough on missions so far not to get caught without any shadows around, but from what you could tell from the very few meetings you were permitted to attend, was that the fight was evolving. Technology was evolving, and if an all out war was to break out, the odds between humans and mutants would be falling into humanity’s favour.

And sometimes, a good ol’ fashioned punch to the face was worth more than dragging people into shadow.

Tensing and flexing, you attempted to contort from his arms, resulting in nothing but an infuriating chuckle from your captor. “Strugglin’?” he asked, condescension dripping from his tone, and you spared him a fleeting glance only to see a mocking pout on his face.

“Fucking asshole.” you snarled, managing to free your arms enough to push back against his chest. But Logan was strong. Insanely fucking strong, and you were held fast.

“Now what?” he poked, deriving a sick amount of sadistic joy from watching your growing fury. He wasn’t worried. You were already harbouring a lot of frustration, and this was the best way he knew to help you let it out. Since the other option was off the table for now.

You’d been formulating a plan for the last few minutes, your last few wriggles had been purely for show. Lulling him into a false sense of cocky security. Your hands slipped beneath his arms, grabbing a secure hold on his forearms. Sending him a knife-like smile, you went to push against his arms.

Logan sensed what you were about to do, feeling slight pressure against his elbow, he moved his arms lower, assuming you were about to attempt slipping out underneath.

Bingo.

You barked a triumphant laugh, changing your grip in an instant. Your hands slipped up between his arms and your waist and gripping his shoulders. Logan didn’t have time to do so much as blink before your foot pushed against his hip and you flipped backwards and out of his embrace, landing a sharp blow beneath his jaw with your knee before you rolled back to a steadying stance a few paces away.

He blinked, hand subconsciously braced against his chin. It was a savage blow, but the throbbing faded almost instantly. He stretched his jaw, pride blossoming in his chest. “Good job, honestly didn’t think–” he was cut off instantly as you ran towards him, glaring venom. Something in you had shifted, and he’d be lying to himself if it didn’t make him think twice about pissing you off so much.

He dodged back as you swung a punch, your left hook flying dangerously close to his nose. You moved with a speed he hadn’t seen from you yet, and with precision he’d only expect from highly trained veterans. You swung again from the right, and he dodged left, only to be met with a sharp blow from your leg. How had you shifted your weight so damn quickly? He didn’t have time to contemplate before your foot slammed into the centre of his chest and he stumbled backwards.

Catching his footing, Logan looked back at you, eyes wide in complete surprise. You stood dangerously still, your dark gaze watching him like a hawk. He was right in his observation. Something in you had shifted. Like a switch being flipped, you’d gone from treating this as a simple training exercise to actually engaging in a fight. He held his hands up in an attempt to placate you. “Alright, let’s take a breath, yeah?”

You silently bared your teeth before launching yourself at him again. Your leg sweeping towards his face in a roundhouse kick. He flinched back, pushing your foot to continue its trajectory past him, only to barely escape another attempt to decapitate him from your other leg. He caught it in his palm, his hand gripping your ankle tightly as he called your name. But you didn’t respond, using his grip on your foot to pull yourself closer.

You hooked your leg around his neck, the way you pulled yourself upright was a testament to your sheer core strength as you shifted your weight back, and attempted to bring both of you to the floor. But Logan was a lot sturdier than you’d anticipated, loosening his hold and quickstepping forward, letting you fall to the floor. You were only down for a second before you flipped upright again.

Logan watched as you extended your arm into the shadow behind you, cast by the metal balance bar running along all four walls of the room. Whoever this was, whoever he was fighting, you weren’t there anymore. Was this what happened the night Jade died? He couldn’t contemplate that right now, not as the thin shadow along the floor started to morph and shift, running like water from your fingertips to your elbow. He watched in horrified awe as the darkness solidified into a blade around your forearm, your hand having disappeared completely into a sharp point.

“Holy shit…” he breathed along with a terrifying realisation.

You were trying to kill him.

He called your name again as you lowered into a crouch, waiting for a beat before once again sprinting toward him, leaping with inhumane strength. There was a sharp clang as obsidian met metal, Logan’s claws unsheathing from his knuckles to meet your overhead blow. You wrenched your blade from between his crossed claws, launching into a flurry of swipes, slashes and kicks. With every strike, the shadows shifted to each limb with clinical precision, your movements timed to perfection.

Logan was meeting you blow for blow, though never striking back. He was purely on the defensive, simply trying to stop you from taking off his head or hands. He didn’t know how to get through to you, calling your name having absolutely no effect, and he was getting desperate. “You gotta st–” he flinched backwards to avoid yet another savage swipe. “Stop!” he shouted desperately, ducking below your slash and snatching your other wrist. He managed to make you pause long enough to look into your eyes.

Or, what used to be your eyes? Those captivating irises he’d come to know so well had been replaced by wells of nothingness, and if he hadn’t known any better, he’d say they were just a result of using your mutation to this extent. But he’d seen your eyes that first time you’d dragged shadows with you, they hadn’t been like this. This was something else altogether. You were completely absent. Hollow.

What the fuck?

Logan barked a cry as searing pain shot through his hand, that black blade piercing through his palm and through the back. He yanked back, flexing his fingers as he started to heal immediately, though blood still left his hand slick.

“Logan? What’s–” he whipped around to see Jean in the doorway, her eyes now fixed on you, mouth agape in horror. “Shit! Logan, step back!” she instructed, and he did so immediately. Looking back at you, he saw you didn’t move, though your muscles shook with the effort to do so. Jean was holding you fast, he could see sweat beading on her brow with the strain. “The Professor’s on his way now. Damn, she’s strong. You alright?” she asked, not taking her eyes from your immobilised form, your lips pulled up in a permanent snarl, your empty eyes darting between Logan and Jean.

Logan nodded a little hesitantly. “Yeah, ‘m fine…” whilst it wasn’t exactly a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth either. Physically he’d always be fine, his healing factor always saw to that. But it wasn’t your deadly strikes that alarmed him. Nor the sniper precision of your blows. He would be fine with both of these things if it wasn’t for the unmistakable stench of fear.

Logan knew better than anyone, the more cornered the animal, the louder the snarl, the more viscous the bite. You weren’t acting on logic, you were acting out of fear. You were scared. He could smell the desperation to survive, the necessity to fight your way out. Your strikes had been cold and calculated, but every landed blow had a feeling of panic behind them.

But you’d told him your past. Where the hell could this have come from? Was it simply an inherent part of your mutation?

Answers could wait as he took a cautious step towards you, his hands held out before him. “It’s okay, you’re okay…” he soothed, glancing back to see the strain on Jean lessen slightly. He looked back at you. “It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt ya, you’re safe,” he continued, ignoring Jean’s call of protest. “It’s me, yeah? It’s Logan. ‘M not gonna hurt ya, firefly. Never gonna hurt ya…” he reached out slowly, his heart breaking as your breathing quickened, wide eyes flickering between his hand and his face. If Jean hadn’t been holding you, he had an awful feeling you would have flinched away. Although, if Jean hadn’t been holding you, he had no doubts he’d be on the ground slowly healing from whatever you’d have done.

His palm gently cupped the side of your face and your breathing stopped altogether, void-like eyes staring endlessly into his, your brow creasing as if you were searching for something. He watched as you stopped struggling against Jean’s hold. “You’re alright, it’s just me. It’s just Logan…” You exhaled a breath, your eyes closing, visibly relaxing into his touch.

“What the fuck happened?!” your eyes flew open again, your head snapping to the doorway where Scott, Xavier and Ororo had just appeared, Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses. You only managed to swing your arm a few inches, Jean catching you before your blade pierced Logan’s gut. He jumped back, though instinctively positioned himself between Scott’s line of sight and your frozen form.

“Damnit Scott, we had her!” he seethed, wanting nothing more than to knock him to the ground. If he wasn’t so trigger-happy with his eyes, Logan would have done. But the hand on his sunglasses had him staying put.

“Charles I can’t hold her for much longer…” Jean strained, her hand shaking ever so slightly. Xavier placed two fingers against his temple, closing his eyes slowly.

“Let her go, Jean…” he instructed, and the woman instantly fell to her knees, Scott crouching by her side, his arm around her shoulders, though his eyes never left you. Logan turned back to where you’d been released, your chest heaving, head twitching slightly as Xavier invaded your thoughts. Your eyes screwed shut, your hands flew to your head, Logan only just managing to catch your bladed wrist before you sliced your ear off. He grit his teeth against the pain of the edge carving through his palm, but he didn’t let go. He’d endure it. He’d endure fucking anything if it meant you’d be safe.

You whimpered as your legs gave out, crumpling into his hold as he gently lowered you to the floor. It was a terrifying display, your body contorting and writhing, your back arching as if you were possessed whilst Charles worked to set you free or bring you back or whatever the fuck he was doing.

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. I promise you’re safe. ‘M gonna look after you, yeah? You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe…” he kept whispering over and over in the hopes that wherever you were, you could hear him. You could follow his voice. Holding you against his chest, he grazed his lips against your hair as you started to slow, hearing your heartbeat begin to settle. You still twitched slightly here and there, but you’d stopped writhing.

When you fell still completely, Logan had to shakily check your pulse just to make sure you were still alive. Finding the slight but steady beating beneath his fingertips, he raised his eyes to the rest of the team, irises glittering with murderous intent. “What the fuck was that?” he snarled, looking at each mutant individually.

Ororo seemed the only one brave enough to step forward, Charles still occupied with your mind. “It… we saw this happen once before, around three years ago now. It was the night–”

“Jade died…” Logan finished, his features instantly softening as he looked back down at you, palm smoothing your hair from your face. “Why? Why does this happen?”

Charles removed his fingers from his temple, opening his eyes now you’d been placated.

“We don’t know…” Jean exchanged a glance with the Professor as Storm continued. She crossed the room to kneel by your side, now knowing you were unconscious and no longer dangerous. “We think anger might be a trigger.”

“She wasn’t angry,” Logan countered, his eyes not leaving your face. “She was scared. I could smell it. She was fucking terrified like we were…” he trailed off, not wanting to voice what he was thinking. It was like you thought he was trying to hurt you. You fought back out of self-preservation. “I don’t understand… she’s told me about her upbringing. Her childhood, I didn’t-” he cut himself off as he took your hand, eyes widening as he noticed something he hadn’t before. How the fuck had he not noticed this before?

A thin, heavy scar ran down the length of your wrist, a centimetre wide and a few inches long. His breath caught in his throat as he rushed to check your other hand, finding a mirrored mark. Running his thumb down the scar, his eyes flickered to Ororo’s, who looked away.

“Guess she hadn’t got round to telling you that yet…” she said by way of explanation. His heart shattered. It had been a long time since Logan had cried, but he felt hot tears line his eyes. The thought of you being low enough to attempt to take your own life, the possibility of you succeeding and he never got to meet you. To know you. To love you.

He gathered you back into his arms and held you close, tucking your head beneath his chin. He wanted to apologise. To apologise for not being there for you. For not even knowing you. It was illogical and pointless, but he wanted to make up for not always being there for you. For only coming into your life now.

“We should get her to the med bay,” Jean broke the silence, standing from where she was recovering on the floor, Scott’s arm still wrapped around her shoulder, steadying her.

“I can’t be the only one thinking what we should actually do, and what we should have done years ago. She’s unstable, there’s kids here for fuck’s sake!” Cyclops exclaimed, gesturing to the floors above.

Logan felt his anger bubble to the surface. He didn’t need to be telepathic to know what Scott was talking about, and there was no way in hell he was about to stand by and let this motherfucker neutralise you. “Why don’tcha say it out loud, Scott,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “Let everyone know what ya thinkin’.”

“Logan take a breath, nothing’s going to happen to her,” Ororo placed a calming hand on his shoulder, though he was too riled up to care. “Right Scott?” she prompted, and Scott scoffed loudly.

“Yeah, right. Though, not that it shouldn’t.”

Logan snapped. Passing your body to Ororo, he leapt from the ground, claws bursting through his knuckles as he thundered towards Scott, who was taking his arm from around Jean to grip his sunglasses in retaliation.

“That’s enough!” Xavier’s voice cut through both the air and Logan’s mind, and taking a glance to the group, everyone else had heard it in their heads as well. He ground to a halt, eyes glaring bloody murder at Cyclops. “Now is not the time to fight amongst ourselves. Storm, take her to the med bay. Jean, I need you in my office please. And you two,” he looked pointedly between Logan and Scott. “Find somewhere far away from each other.”

“Fine by me.”

“Not a problem,” they spoke in unison before Logan turned back to where Ororo was holding you in her lap. “I got her, just lead the way,” he spoke curtly, stooping to effortlessly pick you up, holding you tight in his arms. Storm nodded as she stood, dusting her knees off before heading for the door. Logan took a minute to look down at you, drinking in your unconscious appearance. He felt a pang of fear for you echoing throughout his chest, brows pinching as his eyes frantically flickered across your face.

“She’ll be okay Logan, just give her time,” Charles said gently, knowing to choose his words carefully.

“We don’t got time.” Was all he said in return, before following Storm out the door and to the med bay.

Time was simply a concept. Nothing mattered. You’d found yourself sinking into your mind, taking a backseat in your own body. Floating in water but breathing wasn’t impossible. It was peaceful, tranquil, the same kind of feeling when you were nestled against Logan’s chest in an evening, or standing by his side and instructing him how to perfect a sear on a steak.

Logan. Your chest surged as you thought of him, colours around you shifting and swirling from obsidian to the dark greens and browns you associated with his scent. Being around him. Content wore a new face, joy had a new feeling. Swirling colours became scenery as your bare feet touched grass. Wind kissed your cheeks as you looked around at the rolling hills surrounding, nothing but blue skies above you. Though you were confused, nothing could dampen your sense of ease. Pinewood and smoke wafted through the breeze and you turned but saw nothing.

“Come back.”

You turned again, laughing as if he’d told a joke. It was his voice, unmistakably. You guessed he was just in a playful mood. Your toes dug into the ground as you spun around, laughter bubbling from your chest.

“Where are you?” you called out, only your echoing voice answering from the hillside. The wind died down, birdsong quieting to nothing as you waited for his voice again.

“Come back to me.”

You whirled again, your smile slowly fading as you once again were met with nothing. “Logan? C’mon, this isn’t funny anymore!” you called out, hoping he would finally stop the games and come out. You could feel panic start to rise as you heard nothing in response. You spun and twisted, only to be met with silence and emptiness, the ease of the countryside now morphing into anxious loneliness. “Logan…?” you called out again weakly, your hand crossing your front to hold your arm in an attempt to bring some kind of comfort.

The next time you turned, your heart stopped and you stepped back. Seven humanoid shadows stood before you, their forms shifting like smoke. In unison, their heads cocked to the side. Like the shifting of emotions, the blue sky faded to grey, then to black. Angry, broiling storm clouds swirled overhead, and once again in unison, the shadows sank into the ground.

Fear gripped your heart as you tried to do the same, but found yourself unable to. You tried again, only to force yourself to your knees, the ground refusing to let you pass despite the darkness overhead. With a frustrated cry, you punched the earth with your fist, as if you were able to beat it into submission.

“Come back.”

This time his voice provided no comfort as you hung your head, tears stinging your eyes and falling into the grass, blades shifting slightly. “I want to…” you responded shakily, despair clawing at your mind, having no idea how. But you had to. It didn’t matter how. You just had to.

Standing back to your feet, you took a deep breath. You could do this. You could find your way back. With newfound determination, you took a step forward.

Only to find, the moment your foot touched the ground, a hand crawled from the shadow, wrapping around your ankle. Once again panic clawed at your chest as you tried to yank yourself free, watching in horror as one of those seven shadows rose from the ground, its humanoid body contorted and backwards, head twitching from side to side.

You tried to pull away. Tried to take a step back, only to find another holding your other foot, rising only far enough for its head and shoulders to reform from the ground. Another hand grabbed at your thigh, then another around your waist. You fought to free yourself, kicking and flailing as you felt the ground beneath you give way and you started to sink. A hand clawed down your back, another wrapped around your neck, silencing your desperate scream as your hand outstretched towards the dark sky above.

Your eyes went dark as those shadows gripped your face, obscuring your vision before all you could feel was nothing. You were nothing. And you were sinking.

Down. Down down you were dragged, those inky black hands weighing you down like a ball and chain through water, only this time you couldn’t breathe. You tried to scream again only to find yourself voiceless, bubbles of emptiness rising from your mouth.

You didn’t know how long you’d been drowning before light burst from above you and you inhaled a guttural breath, closing your eyes against the blinding white. When you managed to adjust to the light, you cracked open your lids, panic still flooding your veins. An operating theatre? No, it was too light. But judging from the instruments to your left, that’s exactly where you were. You tried to lift your head only to find coarse leather strapping you down. Trying to move your arms and legs resulted in the same conclusion.

A whimper escaped from the other side of the room, and you turned your head, eyes widening as you saw your brother, clad in some kind of hospital gown, tears streaming down his face. “Rowan…?” you croaked, your throat raw from what, you didn’t know.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered shakily, before agony flared through your body and you released a blood-curdling scream, fire reining free throughout your nerves, your limbs straining against the bonds holding you down.

‘We remember.’

Your eyes flew open as you sat bolt upright on the table, panic surging adrenaline through your system as you took in your surroundings. You were still there, in that room, just a different version of it. But you weren’t tied down, not this time. No, this time, you followed the wires hooking your body up to a monitor, the dips and valleys in the lines meaning nothing to you, only serving to fuel your fear.

You ripped the stickers from your body, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Whatever, or whoever was holding you clearly didn’t have the sense to leave you unattended. You might still be learning how to control your mutation, but that didn’t mean you weren’t dangerous.

Crossing to the drawers opposite, you tugged the top one open, rifling through the contents in the hopes of finding some kind of weapon. A scalpel, a knife, hell you’d take a staple gun at this moment. Anything that would help you escape this nightmare. You had to find Rowan. Why the fuck was he here? What the hell was going on? You brushed the questions to the side for now.

None of that mattered at the moment. Your sole goal was to find him and get the two of you out of here.

A slight sing sliced through your fingertip as you rifled through the second drawer, pulling out a small scalpel. It wasn’t ideal, but you figured it was better than nothing. Clutching it tightly in your hands, you cursed medical rooms for their bright white lighting, only finding singular shadows beneath the bed and around the desks. Nothing connected, so you couldn’t travel far.

You whirled at the slight whoosh of the doors behind you opening, holding the scalpel in front of you threateningly, attempting to still your trembling hand. Though it took your eyes a moment to register who you were looking at, you knew that voice and the way he softly called your name like the back of your hand.

Logan had only stepped out for a few moments, spending the last three days by your side, vigilant, unmoving. But upon the insistence of Jean, he’d taken seconds for himself to smoke a cigar and calm down. Every twitch of your body, every micromovement he noticed, every small cry of his name set him on edge, fighting the urge to pull the medical tags from your body and keep you safe up in his room, build a home for you there. He’d resisted purely because both Jean and Charles had said it was safer to monitor your brain and heart.

But now here you were, eyes wide, pointing a scalpel at him. He held his hands up, trying to show you he didn’t mean any harm. “It’s me…” he soothed as you looked around wildly as if trying to recognise your surroundings.

How was he here? Why was he here? Had they got him too? But he looked fine, dressed in his usual white singlet, worn jeans and brown flannel. “Logan?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, taking a slow step towards you. “Yeah,” he confirmed, noticing how you were still caught up in confusion and fear.

“Wh– where am I? Where are we?” you asked frantically, still keeping the small blade pointed towards him as he inched closer around the bed.

“We’re in the med bay, underneath the school. ‘S’okay, you’re safe here.” he explained slowly, gingerly reaching for the knife in your hand, his fingers wrapping around the warm metal as he gently took it from your grasp and set it down.

You let him take it from you, your heart settling in your chest as he encircled your wrist. “The school?” you asked, uncertainty lacing your tone. Logan nodded in confirmation, and you let loose a steadying breath. “What happened?” your voice was barely audible, shaking slightly as he guided you into his arms and enveloped you in a sense of security.

“You’re okay…” he breathed, not only to reassure you but to also reassure himself. For three days he’d sat by your bedside, listening to people tell him you were gonna be okay, but it was so fucking hard to believe them when you were lying unconscious on a medical bed, the only sound being the steady beep of the heart monitor you were hooked up to.

Seeing you here, on your feet, awake, set that fear to rest. He set his chin atop your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in, your scent wrapping around his heart in a comforting embrace. You were safe. You were okay.

You allowed yourself to simply feel him, basking in his presence and the peace he brought you. Your arms slowly wrapped around his body beneath his shirt, clasping tightly at the back of his singlet. “I don’t understand…”

“I know. Neither do we, not fully. But we will, ‘kay? Promise,” he hoped it was enough to reassure you, but it was barely enough to reassure himself. “What d’you remember?” he asked pulling back slightly to cup a hand against your jaw, angling your face to look up at him.

You swallowed, brow furrowing as you tried to think back to the last thing you remember. “Training. We were training. You said we weren’t gonna focus on my mutation, and you challenged me to get out of your grip… that’s it,” you explained quietly, your eyes flickering between his own in search of some kind of answer. “That’s what happened with Jade, isn’t it? It was the same thing…” Logan nodded again, though almost imperceptibly as if he was afraid to confirm your own fears. “What happened?” you asked again, though this time a little firmer.

Logan took a breath, bracing himself for your reaction before he’d even spoken. “You tried to kill me…”

You instantly stepped out of his arms, and as much as he didn’t want to, he let you. Horror flickered across your face as you looked down at your hands as if you could see the blood staining them. You couldn’t do this again. You couldn’t kill someone else you loved because you couldn’t control yourself. “It wasn’t your fault, I pushed you too hard. I didn’t know this w–”

“Don’t.” you stopped him quietly, eyes staring, unblinking, at the white tiles beneath your bare feet. “Please don’t…” you inhaled shakily, balling your hands into fists by your side. “Scott was right.”

Logan froze, knowing exactly what you were referring to. He guessed what he suggested three days ago wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “The fuck he was. You lost control, that doesn’t make you a monster. Y’think half the kids here were monsters before they learnt how to control their mutations?”

“Half the kids here don’t try to kill the people they fucking care about!” you cried, feeling like he just wasn’t listening to you.

“No, they just do it by accident. Remind you of anyone?” He didn’t know how else to get you to see. You were no different from those who just hadn’t learnt to control it yet. “Why is it always so different when it comes to you, hm?” he took your hands in his own, begging you to understand.

“I don’t wanna kill you, Logan. I don’t know what I'd do if I did…” you looked up, tears silently sliding from your eyes. But Logan simply smiled.

“Then ain’t it peachy I can’t die. Hundred ‘n’ thirty still going strong,” he thumbed away the tears from your cheeks as you blinked in realisation. “Forgot that, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah… guess I did.” you tried to smile, but Logan could tell you were still burdened by guilt and grief. Planting a kiss on your forehead, he guided you back to the centre of his chest, wrapping you up again.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah? Whatever this thing is, we’ll figure it out. Charles can help you,” he promised, his hand stroking through the back of your hair. “And fuck Scott, he doesn’t know what he’s fucking talking about.” That earned him a teary chuckle against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck Scott,” You repeated, nestling closer into his embrace. “Thank you, Lo’.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he responded, pressing his nose against the top of your head, breathing in your distinct scent. “The good news is, you harnessed your mutation flawlessly.”

You looked up at him with slight awe, your mouth parted slightly. “Seriously?”

Logan nodded. “I almost brought ya back as well, so I’m thinkin’ we should–”

“Don’t even say it,” you interrupted, your chin resting against his chest. “Not a good idea.”

“Might be the only way,” he shrugged, delicately moving a strand of your hair from your face. “Think it over.” He prompted softly, his hand travelling from your jaw to your cheek, eyes lingering on your lips for a beat before he dipped down, capturing you in a soft kiss. Your lids fluttered closed, arms sliding from his back up to his neck, your fingers finding a home in his soft hair.

You groaned softly as his hands left your face to occupy your waist, lingering long enough to squeeze you gently before descending lower to your thighs and hoisting you against him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, ankles crossed against the dip of his back.

Logan swallowed your gasp as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, and he couldn’t tame his low growl of approval when you opened your mouth for him, your nails scratching lightly through his hair and tugging against the soft strands in a way that had his closed eyes rolling skyward. Carrying you back to the steel table, he set you down, his lips never detaching from yours even as your back touched the steel. Your ankles stayed crossed at his tailbone, and the way you arched your hips into his growing arousal had him groaning your name against your lips.

The sweet scent of your slick drove him fucking wild, and he knew he had to stop himself before he fucked you here and now on this godforsaken table. He drew back from you, jaw falling open as you dug your nails into his shoulders. Fuck you looked so good, a passionate flush dusted your cheeks, your lips slightly reddened from his mouth. He panted against you, attempting to catch his breath. “We can’t, n–”

“Not here, right?” you finished, frustrated irritation lacing your tone. “Then where, Lo’? Because so far, it hasn’t been anywhere.” You finished, sitting up as he pulled away from your legs. “What’re you so afraid of?” It was your turn to gently pry, hoping to gain insight as to why he always stopped just when things were getting good.

He looked away from you, tensing his jaw against your question. “‘M not afraid…”

“That’s a lie.”

His eyes shot back to look at you, recalling the last time he called you out. He’d used that same phrase, that same no-bullshit tone. Logan debated shooting back at you the same way you did back then, but at the same time, he wasn’t that petty. He could be petty, sure, but not that petty.

He ran a hand down the side of his face, taking a deep breath. He heard you shift on the table, your hand gently pulling his palm down. “I’m not made of glass, I won’t shatter.”

But that’s exactly what he was afraid of. “I– I’m good at controlling my instincts most of the time… but when I feel you like that… when I can smell how you react to me, it gets so much more difficult. I’m so afraid of hurting you,” he confessed, and you silently pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Logan. Was your plan to just, not have sex this whole relationship?” you asked softly, watching as he processed the wording of your question.

“Well, no but, is that what this is…?” he asked slowly, and you raised a brow.

“I wouldn’t exactly call us friends, Lo’, but I guessed we never really discussed it…” you mused, not a single worry on your mind. You were what you were, labels didn’t really matter to you, and you had a feeling they didn’t matter to him either.

“Hate the title of boyfriend,” He wrinkled his nose and you snorted a laugh. “Makes me sound like some inexperienced kid.”

“How would I know how experienced you are, you refuse to have sex with me. Maybe it’s appropriate.” You teased, and Logan shot you a dark look full of even darker promises. “I’m not too bothered either way, to be honest. We don’t have to put a label on things. We’re just…”

“Together.” He finished, his dark glare softening at the words he uttered and how right they felt.

“Exactly. And you’re not the only one who can heal, remember?” You flashed him a grin now it was his turn to blink. “Now look who’s forgetting things.” He returned your smile before pulling you in for another lingering kiss, both his hands braced against the soft skin of your waist. He hadn’t forgotten about the scars on your wrists, nor the way you’d cried for him in your unconscious state, but he’d save those questions for later, for when you weren’t in the med bay still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing three days ago.

Not that he minded. You smelt irresistible.

Footsteps echoed in his ears from behind the door, and he separated from you. He glanced to the door in response to your look of confusion just as the two halves separated and Jean strode through, stopping immediately upon seeing you.

“You’re awake! How’re you feeling?” she asked, setting down her mug of coffee on the desk before crossing to the flatlined heart monitor and switching it off, the screen going dark.

“Physically or mentally?” you asked, a little sarcastically, and Logan had to pretend he was extremely interested in the screens around Jean’s desk, covering his mouth with his palm to hide his smile.

“You were out for three days, it’s only natural for me to ask.” She responded flatly, shooting Logan a pointed look which he chose to ignore.

“I’m fine. Weirded out and I wanna know why this keeps happening, but I’m fine.” You shrugged, wanting nothing more than to head up to your room, shower until you burn off all of your skin, and fall into bed. Preferably with Logan by your side, but you’d take what you could get with that whole situation.

Jean shifted on her feet, busying herself with the monitor, and Logan picked up the distinct scent of discomfort. “The Professor’s working on it, for now, he wants you to rest, maybe take a break from training and teaching, too.”

You scoffed, standing up from the table. “He gonna send me away for another two years, yeah? Keep the big bad wolf away from the children? Just in case I go ape-shit again and commit mass murder. Seems like a sound plan, worked last time, didn’t it? Oh, except it didn’t, because I’ve only been back two months and the same fucking thing happened. Only this time we got lucky because Claws over here can’t fucking die” You spat, annunciating every fucking syllable.

Logan shifted his gaze to you, giving you a look as if to ask why he was being dragged into this. You responded with something he could only interpret as apologetic. Good enough.

“It wasn’t like that–”

“It was and you know it, don’t you?” Logan chimed in, suddenly feeling the need to rush to your defence. You’d already been through enough today, you didn’t need to be gaslit to be added to the pile. “Just like you know more about what’s going on here, right?” He raised a brow, coming to stand by your side, an arm braced against your shoulder.

Whatever Logan had noticed, you trusted his instincts, staying silent as Jean straightened, her gaze steely. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Logan,” she responded plainly, before turning to you. “And since you seem well enough to wander around and rifle through my equipment, I’d say you’re well enough to head out.” It was as rude as Jean was ever going to get without being unprofessional and telling you to get the fuck out.

You raised your head, narrowing your eyes in challenge, before deciding that maybe scrapping so soon after you woke up was a bad idea. So instead you turned on your heel, striding out the door with your dignity and without leaking blood.

Logan fell into step beside you, his palm resting at the small of your back. “Ya know, she could barely contain you when you went all… freaky. You’re strong as shit.” He smirked down at you, and your eyes widened along with your smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You both entered the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. “Fuckin’ A.” You grinned, and if he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t think he’d ever been more proud of you.

“I’ll be below so if you need anythin’, just shout, I’ll hear ya,” Logan instructed so sincerely your heart skipped a beat. After insisting he made you a rudimentary evening snack of grilled cheese, he’d escorted you up the stairs and into your room and was now looking into your eyes with such seriousness it made you laugh a little.

“Logan, I’m taking a shower, not heading into the Colosseum. Though, you’d know all about that, right? What were the Romans like?” you asked, feigning innocence when he rolled his eyes. “What? I’m curious.”

“Glad ya feelin’ better, freak.” He flicked your forehead and you chuckled, not bothering to swipe his hand away. “If you need anything–”

“Howl at the moon three times and spin in a circle yeah Logan I get it. Now clear off so I can shower, I smell like a dead horse.” You shooed him away, but he caught both your hands in one of his own, his bare arms flexing as he pulled you closer so he could lean into your ear.

“You smell fucking delicious,” he growled and your knees almost buckled. Fuck, how could he do that with one small phrase? “But I’ll let ya go, see you later.” He pecked a kiss to your lips, brows raising in surprise when you leaned into him in a much more passionate display before you pulled away far too quickly for his liking.

“See you in a bit!” you beamed, before heading into your ensuite and shutting the door, leaving him standing breathless in the middle of your room.

You were gonna be the fucking death of him. If he could die, that is.

To say your shower was refreshing was an understatement. Scalding water seared your skin slightly, leaving behind delicious tingles of cleanliness as you scrubbed the last three days of unconsciousness from your skin, using the wild bluebell shower gel Ororo had gifted you for Christmas last year. It was definitely one of your favourite scents –other than pinewood, smoke and whiskey, obviously– but it was the gel you used the least out of fear of running out of it. You lathered your skin, shivering slightly as you remembered the way Logan was holding you earlier. The way his fingers dug into your thighs, the way he squeezed your waist.

You had to shake yourself back to reality before you used all the water in the goddamn mansion. Quickly rinsing yourself, you switched off the shower and snatched the towel hanging from the hook on the back of the door and opened the window to let out some of the steam. Drying yourself off, you vaguely hoped your plants would forgive you for neglecting them for three days, though a delusional part of you said they’d understand.

Maybe you were losing your mind.

You finished up moisturising your face, rubbing in the last bits of cream and securing your towel around your chest before opening the door to your room, steam rolling from the bathroom and onto your sad-looking tropical plants, who you swore instantly perked up.

“Yeah yeah, no need to be so dramatic Herbert, I’m sure you can survive three days without me.” You said to your Herringbone Plant. You found that naming them and giving them all personalities helped with the development and growth… or so you told yourself.

You crossed to your built-in wardrobe, pausing as you saw an incredibly familiar flannel on your window seat. You had a vague recollection of Logan setting it down when he took a seat there, the two of you talking for a minute of thirty before you finally remembered you needed a shower.

Considering how little he seemed to talk to the rest of the teachers here, it served to make you feel pretty damn special the way he would talk for hours with you. You smiled thinking about it, picking up the shirt and feeling the material beneath your fingers. It still smelt like him, and your smile widened further.

There was a quick knock at your door, and you barely had time to welcome whoever it was before it opened. “Sorry, forgot my– fuck.”

Logan stood in your doorway, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, from your heat-flushed collar to the tops of your thighs where your towel cut off, down to your feet before trailing back up. “Fuck…” he repeated, and your breath quickened just like that.

Maybe he could die. Because there was no possible way he’d just survived looking at you this way. You looked edible, for fuck’s sake, and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the side of your neck and listen to you whimper beneath him. He closed his eyes against the images plaguing his mind, hoping to hell neither Charles nor Jean were prowling around the mansion’s minds.

“Looking for this?” you asked, your tone laced with faux innocence as you held up his shirt. “Shame, I was just about to see how good it looked on me.” You pouted, and Logan closed the door with the back of his foot in response.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His eyes were dark, pupils blown with lust as he watched you thread your arms through the sleeves that were much too big for you.

Oh, you were having too much fun with this game, making sure the flannel covered your ass as you turned away from him, letting the towel fall from around your chest to pool at your feet. You grinned wildly at his audible groan as you started feeding the buttons through their respective holes, stopping just low enough that your nipples were covered, but not much else.

You took a step back, glancing at your appearance in your floor-length mirror on the opposite side of your room. “Think it suits me, personally,” you turned, placing a hand on your waist, accentuating just how baggy his clothes were on you. “Don’t you?”

Logan’s chest heaved at the sight of you in his clothes. His clothes. Your hips swayed as you sauntered towards him, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and tugging him closer. His breath hitched as you traced your fingertips across his naval, only briefly dipping below the waist of his jeans, untucking the white singlet he was wearing. “Cat got your tongue?” your voice was as softly teasing as your fingers, his entire body shivering as your hands skirted beneath the white fabric, your palm cooler against his heated skin.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart.” He grit as you thumbed the thick vein pulsing just inside his hip bone. That sweet scent of your arousal hit him like a truck as you leaned up to his ear, biting softly at the sensitive skin just beneath.

“Then ain’t it just peachy I can heal?” you used his phrasing from before, and it was Logan’s undoing. Ducking back, he crashed his lips onto yours, your mouth eagerly parting to allow his thick tongue to dance with yours. He wrenched your hands from his front, throwing them around his neck as he lifted you from the floor in exactly the same way he did not an hour ago.

Though this time you moaned freely as your core pushed against the steadily growing steel in his jeans. He bucked his hips in response, growling as you both all but fell onto the bed, your hands tightening their rough grip in his hair. He let his eyes roll as he nipped the supple flesh of your lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your chin, over your jaw and into your neck. His tongue smoothing the sharp bites he left against your skin.

“Logan…” you breathed his name when he found the scar on the side of your neck, your hands clawing at his shoulders when he sucked a small bruise against the mark. You gasped, tilting your head up to provide him with easier access.

His hands had been trailing up and down your sides, venturing beneath his shirt, feeling your bare skin against his palm. Your chest inflated as he teased the underside of your breasts with his fingers, and he nipped against that spot on your neck at the same time as encasing your breasts in his hands. You whimpered beneath him and it was everything he’d dreamed of, and so much more.

“Fuck, sweetheart you’re killin’ me.” He groaned as you wrapped your legs around his waist again, pulling his clothed cock closer to your core. His hands squeezed and groped at the soft skin of your chest, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to hear you gasp again.

He could tell you were getting impatient, your hands trailing down his back to the hem of his singlet, pulling it up to his shoulders. He drew back from you briefly, sitting on his heels and pulling the top over his head. You swore you drooled.

“Holy shit Lo’, you’ve been keepin’ this from me?” You followed him up, your legs still wrapped around his hips as your hands found the muscles of his abs, drinking in every valley, plain and peak of his physique. Your fingers grazed up through the hair dusting his chest, bracing against the hard plateaus of his pecs. “Fuck me…” you breathed in disbelief, and Logan responded with a wild smirk.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” he trailed off, hands cupping the sides of your neck as he brought you in for another searing kiss. Logan gently pushed you back down on the bed, swallowing your low moans of need. His fingers deftly plucked at the buttons of his shirt, exposing more of your body for his hands to feast on. He pulled back again to shove the material off your shoulders, dragging it from beneath you to discard on the floor. “Gorgeous.” He uttered under his breath.

You were completely bare before him, and his eyes locked onto every perfect imperfection on your body, from the various scars on your chest and stomach to the small dents left behind by his own fingertips. You panted softly, placing a foot against his shoulder just as he went to lean back down and hold your lips hostage once again.

“Even this up, Howlett.” You breathed, and Logan turned his head to nip your ankle sharply. Though before he could even think about loosening his belt, you’d already surged forward, your hands flying to the buckle at his waist, your head ducking into the crook of his neck you so often liked to nestle into. Only this time you bit savagely, earning yourself a surprise, husky groan.

There was a soft clink of metal as you pulled at the leather around his waist, placing it within arm’s reach. Just in case, you told yourself as you licked at the slight salt of his clavicle. You popped the button of his jeans, careful to pull down the zipper before shoving the rough fabric down below his hips. Logan tugged them the rest of the way, shoving them somewhere with the rest of the discarded clothes.

You fell back against the pillows of your bed, unable to stop yourself from biting your lip as you devoured the sight of his tented briefs, his heaving chest and dark eyes. Crawling back over your sprawled form, Logan dipped back to your neck, ghosting his lips down across your collarbones, his tongue lavishing the dip between the bone and your throat, before descending further between your breasts.

He nipped at the soft flesh, his mouth fluttering from left to right as if he couldn’t pick which one he wanted to devour. Your back arched in desperation, pushing your pebbled nipples further into his face before he sucked one into his mouth, teething slightly the sensitive skin. You gasped his name, your nails returning to his sinewy shoulders as pleasure coursed through your veins, one of your hands reaching up to grip the headboard behind you. Fuck he was good at this, switching between sucking softly and nipping sharply, before releasing your breath with a gentle pop, only to devour the other.

Your hips bucked against his abdomen and he moaned against you, grinding his desperate cock against the soft fabric of your duvet. He wanted to taste you first, wanted to feel you on his tongue before he even thought about fucking you. His hands replaced his mouth on your breasts as he travelled further down your body, biting and sucking every scar he came across before he was nestled sweetly between your thighs, drowning in the sickly sweet scent of your dripping arousal glistening between your thighs, the coarse, dark hair around your cunt now completely damp.

Anticipation set your nerves alight as you waited for him to do something, anything. And you threw your head back when his lips settled on your inner thigh, finding yet another scar for his tongue and teeth to explore. You whined softly, needily when he skipped your pussy completely, moving to the other side and leaving a mess of bruises for you to inspect later.

“Fuck Logan, do something!” You managed to grit, feeling his huffed laughter fan your aching cunt.

“I am doing somethin’ baby. Wanna be more specific?” he teased lightly, fingers tracing circles against your outer thigh. You bucked your hips towards his face, grinding into thin air. You called to him like a siren calls to a lost sailor, and he was all too happy to fall into the ocean for you as long as he was allowed to stay here for the rest of his long life.

“Fuck me with your tongue goddamnit!” you spat impatiently, and he grinned victoriously. His grip tightened against your thighs as he dragged you down and onto his face, his lips instantly latching onto your swollen clit.

You pitched back, spine arching as you pinched your lips together to stop yourself from crying out. Bolts of electric pleasure struck each and every nerve, setting you on fire as you writhed beneath his tongue, your hands darting to his hair, dragging him to where you needed him most.

Logan’s deep groan reverberated against your throbbing pearl, adding another layer to your ecstasy, and you barely managed to make a mental note that he liked his hair pulled before you were drowning in honey-laced lightning once again.

You tasted better than he could ever imagine, and he’d imagined this a lot in the last two months. Your slick like morning dew on his tongue, he ate you out as if he were starved. He guessed he was, in a way. Starved of having you like this, a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. It fucked with his head, the way you sounded so submissive and yet the grip in his hair was anything but. His cock throbbed with each tug, tip leaking copiously as one of his hands shifted from the outside of your thigh to inside, teasing your throbbing entrance with his fingertips.

Your mouth hung open as he slowly inserted a thick finger, your walls clamping down as if he would try to escape. Logan latched onto your clit once again, sucking along with every pulse of his wrist, the pad of his fingertip massaging that delicious bundle of nerves hidden inside your cunt.

Back arching, chest heaving, you held his head exactly there, not letting him move as you could feel those knots tighten and tense, the thread of your arousal building to snap into a mind-blowing orgasm. Your hips undulated in time to the pumps of his finger and the sucks of your clit, riding his face with each pulse of hot pleasure.

You couldn’t stop your pitched whine as he slowly inserted a second finger into your tight cunt, curling them against your liquid heat. You gasped his name to the sky above, managing to crack your eyes open and look down to where he’d made a home between your thighs.

Sensing your gaze on him, Logan raised his eyes to yours. Your pinched brows, flush face, and gaping mouth were all the encouragement he needed to tongue-fuck you with renewed vigour, lapping at your leaking essence with reckless abandon.

“Fuck! F–fuck, Logan… ‘m gonna cum. G’gonna– gonna make me cum!” you warned, and he responded with nothing but a dark, sadistic smirk as he ground his fingers against that spot that made you see stars.

With another, long suck of your clit, you came undone, the wire finally snapping as you barrelled into your orgasm. Your hands clawed at the sheets by your head, your back arched off the bed with a soft cry of his name. Logan held you fast against his face, eliciting a deep moan, loudly slurping your release like it would in any way satiate his thirst for you. But it only served as an aphrodisiac for his own neglected desires.

Shadows trembled around the room as you panted with each wave of ecstasy, your hips bucking with no rhyme or reason against his face until the pleasure became a little too much, a little too intense, and you had to tug him away by his hair, gasping as you were met with resistance before he acquiesced.

You felt like you were floating, basking in the cloud-like afterglow of your high, only to be brought back by Logan’s hand cupping your face, guiding you to look at him and his smug smirk.

“Still with me?” he asked cockily, and you didn’t have the mind to do anything but nod and laugh lightly.

“Yeah, just about. I take it back… You’re definitely experienced…” you breathed and he hummed a chuckle against your cheek.

“Been around for a while, you learn a thing or two,” he grinned before his jaw went slack with a silent moan. He hadn’t noticed your hand move from beside your head, only realising when you palmed his steel cock through his briefs. You gently pushed his shoulder until he rolled onto his back, swinging your leg over his waist to seat yourself atop his aching heat, rolling your hips slightly and watching as his head fell back, neck exposed for you.

Leaning down, you licked a long stripe up his throat and along the rough stubble beneath his bearded jaw, pinching his ear between your teeth. You tugged slightly, and his hands braced against your waist, guiding you to continue your movements with your hips. You wanted to take your time with him the same way he did with you, but your desperation to feel him inside of you outweighed your yearning to both hear and taste him cum on your tongue.

Sitting back on your heels, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs, dragging them down over his muscular thighs, smirking slightly as his cock sprang back to lightly slap against his naval. He was fucking delectable, flushed tip leaking clear slick, veins pulsing down either side of his shaft. You pushed down the want to trace them with your tongue as you shoved his fabric past his knees.

Logan kicked off his briefs a little too eagerly, and if he wasn’t so drunk off arousal, he would check his behaviour. But the truth was, he didn’t care. Not in this moment. Not when you scooted back a little to take his member in your hands, slowly sliding your palms up and down.

“Shit darlin’, like that. Fuck, just like that…” he groaned lowly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you circled his tip with the centre of your palm. His hips bucked into your grip as you alternated your hands, using a corkscrew motion that had him squeezing his eyes shut, every sense consumed by the pleasure you were giving him.

You thumbed down one of those pulsing veins and watched as he inhaled sharply, bearing his teeth in a silent, heated snarl. Biting your lip, you rose on your knees, leaning forwards before sinking onto his cock.

Your back arched as he filled you, stretching your needy cunt deliciously. A long, low moan rose from the depths of Logan’s chest as you seated yourself fully, your cunt pulsing rhythmically around his sensitive heat. Taking a moment to adjust to the feeling, your nails sank into the muscles of his chest, slowly clawing down to his naval and watching as his brows pinched in desperation.

If you were feeling a little meaner, you’d have made him wait. But you’d both waited long enough, so you languidly rolled your hips, mouth falling open as his tip grazed the spot his fingers had been massaging not moments ago. “Logan…” you uttered breathlessly, falling into a steady tempo.

The shadows of the room quivered and shifted along with your movements, and you felt an itch along your back up to your shoulder blades. Logan cracked his eyes open, watching as the darkness around the room morphed into those same two, broad wings he’d seen that first time your mutation flared. However, nothing was threatening about the sight. If anything, seeing the way they flexed and fluttered as you picked up your pace filled him with a sense of wonder. Fuck you were so fucking beautiful.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, fighting with his instincts to pound up into you in favour of savouring the way your hips ground against him, your cunt squeezing him in a vice grip, obsidian wings extending towards the edges of your room. Rising into a sit, you whimpered softly with the slight jostle, before downright crying out as his fingers grazed the shadowy membrane.

You panted into his parted lips, barely able to form a thought other than how fucking good he felt inside you as you bounced on his cock, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clawing red hot lines down the thick muscles of his back. Logan growled in your ear, no longer able to resist the urge to fuck up into your molten ecstasy.

“You’re so fuckin’ good sweetheart. Feel so fuckin’ good.” he groaned, moving his hand from your wind to your waist, encouraging your movements. He could tell you were close, your thighs shaking slightly both with the effort and the pleasure, your pitched whimpers fanning his neck as you buried your head, nipping and biting in the space where his shoulder met his throat.

“‘M so fucking close… fuck ‘m so close!” you gaped, nails still scratching down his back, earning yourself yet another delicious growl. Logan bucked his hips, pulling your head back from his neck by your hair to look him in the eye. He wanted to watch. Craved the sight of you losing control on his cock, because of his cock. The hand on your waist skirted down between your thighs, fingers expertly playing with your clit as you crested your high.

Head thrown back, spine arched, you exploded in euphoria, pleasure coursing through your body like a tidal wave, crashing on the shore. Your wings flared in either direction, shaking as he continued to grind his tip deep inside you, rubbing your swollen, sensitive pearl ruthlessly. Breathing came second to feeling, unable to inhale as you all but seized up completely, your muscles trembling along with every wave of your orgasm.

Logan panted against the hollow of your throat, all and any self-control quickly dissolving as he recklessly flipped you both over, your clock and lamp clattering to the floor as the tips of your void-like wings swept beneath you, his hands gripping the pillow beside your head.

Seeing you cum on him like that, feeling your walls tightened and quiver, Logan lost every semblance of self-control he was clinging to. Sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your neck, he pounded into you relentlessly. Pure, unadulterated pleasure spiked through his system as you whimpered and whined beneath him, your nails clutching his shoulders, breaking the skin and clinging on.

“Fuckin’ perfect for me. Shit darlin’, squeezing me so good.” He snarled before his teeth returned to the dents he’d made against your neck. He tasted iron as he bit down and you cried out in pain-addled pleasure, dragging your sharp nails from his shoulders, down either side of his spine, to the dip in his back. Your ankles locked around his waist, and it was his undoing.

Logan’s hips stuttered as he utterly lost control, his staggered groan muffled by the skin of your neck, eyes screwed so tight he saw stars. His fingers gripped the fabric on either side of your head, razor-sharp claws ripping through the threads and sinking into the headboard as he hit his climax, bucking with each spasm of ecstasy flooding his veins. His cock reached new depths as he filled you so completely, anchoring deep within your cunt. Muscles flexing and contracting, he rode out his orgasm as your tight walls milked him for all he was worth, before he almost collapsed into you, his chest heaving.

He struggled to recall a time when he’d cum so fucking hard, his ears almost ringing as those sharp bolts of pleasure started to recede and he pulled his teeth from your neck, tongue swiping up the small trickles of blood he’d drawn.

Were you still alive? Honestly, you couldn’t tell, feeling so weightless you were sure your soul had left your body. You only knew you were still clutching to the mortal coil because of the satisfying scratch in your shoulder blades as those shadows returned to the room, leaving you with just your corporeal body.

Logan rose on his arms, his claws retracting into his knuckles as he looked down at you, and you looked up at him, both speechless. Why the fuck had the two of you waited so long to do that. Your brows pinched as he pulled out of you, his hand cupping the side of your face. Since neither of you could form words, he encouraged you to speak through your lips, moulding his own against your mouth.

And you poured every ounce of your adoration into him, arms circling his shoulders, holding him close. You could feel his grin growing before he drew back from you, sweat sliding down his brow.

You responded by mirroring his smile, laughter bubbling from your chest. “Holy shit…” you manage to breathe as he rolled off you, drawing you into his tight embrace.

He inhaled deeply, basking in the scent of flowers, iron, sweat and sex. “Yeah…” was all he could say, still finding himself reeling a little. “Sorry ‘bout your neck. And your pillows. And headboard… and lamp……” he paused sheepishly. “And the clock.”

You giggled madly as he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and using you almost as a blanket. You folded your arms across his chest, Bracing your chin atop the backs of your hands and gazed up at him whilst he got comfortable, an arm propped up behind his head. “Please, I think a clock and lamp are worth possibly the best sex I’ve had in my life.” You smirked, bending your legs at the knee for your heels to rest at your tailbone.

“Yeah? Better than the infamous Shots Shack bin shed?” he teased, cocking a brow.

“Know your limits, Howlett,” You bit back, to his deep chuckle of amusement. Letting the silence settle for a moment, you allowed yourself to reflect on what had just transpired, blinking in realisation as you remembered. “Did… did I pull the shadows…?” you asked slowly, and Logan’s smile widened to a toothy grin.

“Yep. Now that I think about it… this might be a good way to train.” You smacked his chest, your face a picture of faux scandal.

“Logan Howlett, are you suggesting we have sex every time we train?” You asked in mock offence, unable to keep your façade as he genuinely debated it for a moment. “Not sure Charles would be too pleased. Or Scott, for that matter.”

“I’m sure they’d get over it,” he responded and you snorted a laugh, rising from his chest to sit at his side, stretching your sore arms and back. Your neck throbbed a little, but honestly, you didn’t mind, it served as a reminder of the pleasure you’d just shared. It was the best kind of pain.

The idea of showering now filled you with dread. You couldn’t be fucking bothered, realistically. Besides, Logan seemed to like it when you smelt like a dead horse earlier. Settling on your decision, you tugged at the duvet beneath you both, clambering beneath the soft blanket and snuggling into his side, an arm slung across his front, ear pressed against the beat of his heart.

A fond smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at you nestled against his chest, your deep sigh fanning his pecs. It had been far too long since he’d felt peace like this. Far too long since he’d felt this kind of comfort, it almost made his eyes water, only now recognising how fucking lonely he’s felt.

Sinking back into the pillows, Logan’s arms wrapped around your tired form, holding you close. God fucking help anything or anyone that dares try and take this away from him. He’d lost too much, and though he was terrified of losing you too, it only solidified that he’d fight claw, tooth and nail to keep you safe.

Your breathing steadied as you succumbed to the exhaustion and slow, soothing swipes of Logan’s thumb against your waist. It would take a while for him to fall asleep, and he wished he’d had the foresight to bring a cigar with him when he came to retrieve his flannel. But just like you with your shower, the idea of even leaving the bed wasn’t even worth entertaining, let alone the idea of leaving you.

So instead he simply lay with you, listening to the sound of your breathing and the beat your your heart, until sleep knocked at the door of his mind, and he closed his eyes.

Only to snap awake mere hours later. What the time was, he had no idea, your clock at been knocked to the ground in the tryst. You’d both shifted in your sleep and whilst your head was still buried in his chest, he’d turned to face you.

Logan’s eyes blinked against the darkness, adjusting rapidly to the severe lack of light. Something was off. He could sense it.

Silently, his claws fed through his knuckles, instinctively moving his hands from your body as he slowly raised his head.

And froze solid.

Seven humanoid figures draped in smoking shadow stood around the bed, heads cocked to the same side as if their necks had been snapped. His pulse quickened, adrenaline pumping through his veins, fight or flight response triggered.

Although, there was never much flight involved when it came to Logan. He didn’t move, not out of fear, but to not provoke anything. They stood unnaturally still, simply watching with eyeless faces. You shifted in your sleep, and Logan spared a glance at your vulnerable state, his protective instincts flaring wildly at this unknown threat.

Simultaneously, they all began to sink into the floor, and Logan watched with subdued horror as their bodies faded into the darkness as you stirred awake.

“Lo’? You ‘kay?” you asked groggily, your eyes heavy with sleep.

He nodded. “Fine. Heard something ‘s’all.” He lied, though making a promise to tell you the truth once the sun had risen. “Probably just one of the kids. Go back to sleep,” he smoothed your hair from your face as he settled back next to you, wrapping you up safely in his arms. You breathed deeply, murmuring something even he couldn’t comprehend before you were dragged once again back to sleep.

Logan stayed awake until long into the small hours of the morning, watching the room with vigilance, glancing it at you with each slight sound you made in your sleep. But whatever those things were, they didn’t return that night.

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett #x men logan #x men wolverine #x men x reader #logan smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine smut #the wolverine x reader #essa's works

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billsbabydoll · 2 months ago

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“𝒾𝓂 ℴ𝓊𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹, 𝓉ℴ𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.”

contains:LIGHT HORROR+LIGHT SMUT<3

summary:while on a late night walk back home after the club, i find myself suddenly hearing the sweet melody of an alluring voice luring me into the depths of a hidden alleyway.

WARNINGS:vampire!bill, drunk-curious!reader, eerie setting, pet-names, kissing, make-out session, dry-humping, trippy hallucinations.

notes:ive been in the fall/spooky mood lately, so i wanted to switch it uppp.this is my second attempt at writing this since tumblr deleted my entire progress yesterday ^_^.

god i shouldnt have drank all off those margaritas, in the club obviously they were fun but as im stumbling trying to figure my way home im regretting ever stepping foot into that place.

the night was dimly lit from the moonlight shining above, the wind was cool sure to make anyone shiver, the quiet sound of leaves ruffling were audible in the background.

i crossed my arms over my chest rapidly rubbing my skin trying to create any type of warmth, i hazily looked around in search of any indication of where i could be, only find myself lost with my destination home nowhere in sight.

defeated, i take a few more steps before sitting against a brick wall, taking a deep breath trying come up with some kind of solution.

"maybe i could call someone for a ride?"i thought to myself, quickly pulling the strap of my purse off of my shoulder and placing my bag into my lap.i dig around inside before excitedly pulling out my nokia 2780, opening it to only to find it completely dead.

i dont know what to do at this point, i dont know where i am, i dont even know what time it is, im freezing to death, im drunk as fucking skunk-

“come here baby..”a deep voice suddenly whispered within the shadows.

i frantically look around trying to match the voice to something or someone, only to see the empty road ahead and not a single soul in sight.i slowly stand up from my position on the concrete floor, then anxiously turn the corner walking into a blood-curdling alleyway.

i continue walking deeper into this horrific darkness stopping dead in my tracks when i, not even in a blink of an eye see a tall figure appear in the middle of the path, its red glowing eyes piercing into my own.

“dont be scared, i wont hurt you.”he cooed, magically teleporting right infront of me.

his features were otherworldly, his gaze captivating and hypnotizing, his makeup dark, his skin pale as snow.

he was supernaturally beautiful.

“w-what are y-you?”i muttered, rapidly blinking my eyes trying to figure out if i was just imagining this or if this was real life.

“dont worry about that, for now-”

he paused taking a step closer, his face now not even an inch away from my own, his icy-hands interlinking with my own, his thumb grazing over my warm-blooded skin.

“kiss me doll.”

he then leans in capturing my lips into a passionate kiss, he lets go of my hands now pulling me into his tight grasp before slamming me against a nearby wall.i moan into his mouth, his simple words and beauty trapping me in a hypnosis.

i take the opportunity to tangle my arms around his neck, taking in the unusual metallic taste of his feverish lips, his tongue aggressively raveling with my own, his flavor so addicting and irresistibley delicious.

he begins to repeatedly ram his hips into my own, seeking any sort of relief from the tension bulging through his restricting pants, his clothed cock grinding against my tender pussy.

we continue indulging in each-others lust, he had enchanted me with the most powerful spell but i was too compelled to snap out of it, utterly drowning in his trickery.

he abruptly slows down giving me one last gentle peck before slightly pulling away, his eyes staring into my soul, he wasnt breathing, he didnt even blink once.

i gasp awake, jumping up from my bed, drenched in sweat, still dressed in my clothes from the club and-

a throbbing ache in my neck…

THE END

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing #gustav schäfer #Spotify

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spurbleu · 4 months ago

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mouth, reprieves ♛︎

[ken sato x afab reader]

S. Ken Sato is a bitter loser. And you are patient- if not a little giving.

warnings: mdni, blowjob

word count: 2k

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

A pity bloated between your lungs.

The loss wasn’t significant, only by a point. But you supposed that’s what made it sting - the stain of ‘so close’ and ‘almost’ near wicked in the grooves of the bat hold, or the home plate- plastic patched in rifts of dust and dirt (hard to swallow, all of it). Its grief was visible- slumped shoulders and buckling knees stuck to the grime on their uniforms, the announcer’s voice coming in- static and lame.

“And that is a wrap for the Giants 3rd game of the season. First loss this year- what does it mean for the future?”

It rattled the stadium- the echoing disappointment. It folded in the gaps of the chairs, salting the air in a bitter, frustrated sigh. You were unsure if you wanted to join the chorus or curse it.

The memories seeped through- distinct. The pull of his lips when they met yours. The twitch of his knuckles when he held his liquor. His light heels after his last physical therapy session (when magnified- wings. Stamped on the bone of his ankle- fluttering- impatient). The thrum of his snore, thick with anticipation- and expectations (never met).

Kenji’s first game of the season- a loss.

You didn’t take the frigidity personally. You knew the clouds in his iris, the roll of thunder from the back of his throat and off his tongue, was just an indication he cared. The breakage of his indifference, esteem cracking through its steel walls. He had learned to remove blame from his teammates- but as a result the weight on the breadth of his own shoulders grew immense.

It simmered- his insecurities. Boiling beneath the thin patches of skin where he slid on his knees- tender and spiteful. Drives home were borderline silent, aside from the heavy breath against his philtrum and the shifting of his shirt as you rubbed the tense muscles connecting his shoulders. Sometimes, it felt like talking to a wall- resistant to reassurance- as if the letters in ‘you did just fine’ and ‘I’m proud of you’ were venomous (fearful of the gentleness in cyanide).

But it was how he was. Equally as accepting of praise as he was averse to it. A paradox at home base.

You stood on the balls of your feet, swallowing dry air in timid gulps, watching the entrance to the locker room doors. Other wives and girlfriends- some children- and family members stood there in tense guilt- hands itching to embrace the men in a hug that promise ‘next time’.

Eventually, the belly of the stadium spit the players out, slick in its drooly chagrin.

There was a drop to the regular sharpness of his cheeks, ending at the base of his lips- dry and cracked. His hair stuck to his forehead- wet with outlines from the notches of his helmet- which was tucked under his arm (it looked more like a burden than a prize- its frequent glimmer dimmed by dust). The valley under his eyes a depressing shade of plum- his eyes dimmer yet festering.

But it was his brows that exposed the loss of immunity. Pleats in the center of his face, furrowing so low, that if you weren’t close enough, they would have looked joint with the shadow they caused.

When he found you amongst the hushed comfort, the rigidity in his shoulders collapsed into a softer word, striding towards you like a kid who broke a window (baseball myth, but maybe you’ll let him live in it for now).

“H-“

He curled into in gap of your shoulder and your neck, arms lazily embracing the small of your back and pulling you into his chest. You felt the hairs of his brows sink deeper into your shoulder, his breath fanning on your collar bone.

Your hand came to fill its gaps with the tangle of his hair, palming his temples. This embrace was familiar- not because he lost often, but because you found it somewhere in every day. The mornings during breakfast, pillow talk under plains of insomnia, the after-sex glow. Touch tugged a heart string in you both, and although there was no proof, you swear you could feel his heart slow when it kissed yours.

(He made you a romantic, and even after years the shoe still feels too big)

You pull away, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He didn’t kiss you back, but you didn’t mind. It was more of a reminder anyway- a way for you to say I’m here.

“Let’s go home.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

Looking from a doorway in the movies always appears more tranquil than it actually is.

There is nothing peaceful about watching your partner blister under their own defeat. The bounce of his knee, a desperate attempt to relax the tension that mends his muscles to the bone. You, left in your own uncertainty, bit the bumpy flesh behind your bottom lip, legs flinching with the impulse to do.

Comfort, rally, motivate. Your mind searched for a better plan of action in the rise and fall of his shoulders, as he scrutinized the recordings of the game in dim light under a magnifying glass (ants in summer heat).

The body talks. Yours was saying thousands of things at once- none resonating. Dry hands, calloused by hourglass sand and the gruff reality of your own exhaustion, would do nothing but stir him from his own brood then bring him deeper into it. Your mouth would say filtered words with little connotation, leaving you both in a spell that felt purposefully blundering.

Then a spark, somewhere lower than your hips. A blushing growth- spoke in deep tones of arousal and charity.

Alone, your hands and mouth proved useless.

But together…

You pushed yourself off the wide wall, shuffling over in your pajama set loud enough that he could hear you coming. He didn’t move, eyes still trained in silent remorse as he watched his tapes. Your heart dragged on the surface of your ribs- pity.

You came to stand in front of the television, reaching behind you and grabbing the remote before forcing his chin up with your other hand. His jaw rested on your curled fingers, vulnerable. His eyes looked burned at both ends, the wick of his iris without fire, or rebuttal.

You took a seat on his lap, wrapping your arms on his slumped shoulders. A beat, before he caved into you, pulling you into the crook of his hips. You molded into him, taking a moment to turn the television off, dowsing you both in a dark, somnolent ease.

You familiarized yourself with every version of this pose. In his lap, drowse eating at both of your guts, limbs pulling each other closer still. It wasn’t a planned routine- just comfortable. You’d heard the line ‘we were made for each other’ about a dozen times in different movies and books- and although you found it cliché- there was a truth to it.

Good love can be cliché. Done over and over because it feels right. Kenji- his arms and his heart- feel right to you and they always have.

(Again, he makes you a romantic).

“You were amazing today, baby.” You said into his ear. He huffed- but you took his grip on your thighs as encouragement.

You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, and with each purse of your lips you tried to make a point. “You are the best baseball player in the league,” you continued down to his neck, hands coming to rest on his collar bone, “one game doesn’t change that…”

You felt his throat rumble, and it took you a few kisses to realize he had spoken.

“Keep…going.”

Fuck.

It was embarrassing to be aroused when you’re supposed to be comforting someone, but God. The timbres of his voice, their effortless depth and coon, pleading you of all people to do more was enough to make you start riding his thigh.

You reminded yourself that tonight was about his pleasure, and your own would have to be on the back burner.

You slipped your hands under his shirt, cool flesh meeting his hot abdominal, twitching under your nails. You traced the shadows of his muscle, enjoying the mumble that shook his adams apple as you kissed under his jaw.

“You’re talented and everyone knows it,” down the dip between his collarbones, “you’ve carried the team and brought them together…” your hands made your way to his chest, where you could feel his heart beating under the grooves of your palm. Good. You tapped his shoulder from underneath his shirt, and he understood, immediately shedding the shirt and throwing it carelessly into the dark.

You continued down his stomach, sending occasionally glances up. His face was veiled in something rounder now- the earlier layers of woe and its harsh lines drawn by the furrow of his brow replaced by something a little more sanguine. It peaked from behind the whites of his eyes and glowed under the plush of his cheeks in a blooming pink.

You dragged your lips further down, navigating the narrow of his waist, “You’ve got a handsome face to match your wit,” you kissed the band of his sweats, before you curled the digits of your fingers over, peeling it back to reveal the near painful tent spring from the cotton of his boxers, “and…fuck your big…”

You swallowed, massaging the cusp of his cock, feeling as he curved his hips into your palm, a soft moan breaching the clench of his teeth. You looked up at him- beautiful in the light of his own rousing. His throat bobbled; words caught in his tonsils.

You didn’t need him to speak- you knew what they were.

You brought back to his boxers, cock slapping the underside of his stomach. He sucked a breath through his teeth above you- desperation in the discoloration of his bottom lip- bruised. The shroom cap was weeping your name in a pearl of pre-cum, which you massaged with your thumb. You slowly pumped his length in your hands, hand moving in slow, tight swells at the base of it.

You knew it well- you had felt it a dozen times over. The vein that crawled from its root on the right side- thick- spelling your name in morse. The deepened pink as it ran up to his tip, the glans warm in hot colors of desire. The velvet that patched its stiff underside was particularly memorized- molded in the walls of your cunt.

But there would always be that stutter in your breath- your body talking in haphazard beats- a need he fills to the brim. It wasn’t shock, it wasn’t admiration, but you settle for somewhere in between.

“You’re so strong- from your injury, to protecting the city,” if felt somewhat strange- authentic compliments paired with the pumping of his cock, the tip of his jaw and buck of his hips begged your fruition in low moans, “there is no other man like Kenji Sato…”

A gruff groan from the pit of his lungs made your own sex thrum with a familiar density, and you let a soft moan escape your own lips as you slipped them down his cock.

Hypoxia bloomed in the back of your throat- bright purple capturing oxygen. You let your maw clench and reel at the pressure- familiar but desperate for accommodation. Your breath came out in a single syllable against the base of him, nostrils flaring.

He moaned above you, the tremble of his ecstasy rolling down his shoulders and to the bridge of his cock, rattling your tonsils with an unflattering gag. His hands came to hold your hair, grip massaging the back of your scalp with a needy grip.

“Hah…shit…you’re too good to me…”

You bobbed your head in protest, tongue flattening to cup his front. Your fingers worked what your mouth couldn’t, fondling the sensitive bonds of his groin- slick in saliva. He let out a gruff growl, holding your head with a fatal grip- pushing you down to swallow more of him.

You held his thighs for balance you kneeled between them- tears pricking your eyes. You swear you feel him at the ends of your tongue as he rolled his hips into your mouth- hollowed cheeks to take the grit of him- avoiding grazing teeth.

You glanced up at him- met with the bend of his jaw- mouth open as he moaned your name like a mantra. It was so melodic- and for something so lewd it was sweet. Honied in the places that we were taught filthy- buried beneath the stickiness of arousal and sex was something warmer.

You sped up your pace- promising a song from him as you pushed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, tightening the plunge of your throat.

“Ohshit- fucking hell you feel so good baby…so good to me,” His ruts were becoming sloppy, breaking under the weight of his own overstimulation, “I’m gonna cum down that perfect mouth of yours…”

You loved him like this. Goo in your hands, the sharper edges of his jaw and his tongue softened when laid next to you. Saying your name like he’d forget it- hoping it brands into his flesh, maybe his bones. It brought your own weeping hole thrilling pleasure- the puff of your heart rapid.

Lost in rapture- the smaller moments and the forgotten words- somewhere in the craters of your bodies. You’d accepted it- becoming idyllic- eased into a life where love could mean so many things at once and all be right.

As in- the kiss goodnight is just as important as the blowjob after a loss.

You were made ugly- snot drippling down your lips in blunt weeps, tears wetting your lashes in asphyxiation. You were positive the round of your cheeks was rosed- glossed by the precum and spit that wetted your lips as you slipped up and down, tandem rhythm with his hips.

You could feel strands of your hair being ripped from the sensitivity of your scalp- his hands gripping hard enough it felt as though he’s trying to hold your skull. His moans were restless now, a wet and sickening chorus to the hymn of your nose hitting his stomach.

“Shit-shitshitshit oh fuck I’m cu-cummm uhmm…”

It painted the cave of your throat, the cap of your tongue, the roof of your mouth- ruthless. Filled your throat in hues of stress, lost to the compassion of your molars and the crest of your mouth. You could feel the excess ropes peel back the corners of your lips as it bubbled to meet his pelvis, which was still fucking your mouth in a noisy, orgasmic frenzy.

It slid from your fissure with a quiet pop, and you took his wrists, pulling them limply from your head as you stood, sitting back on his lap, softening cock resting behind your ass. You kissed his throat, feeling the shuddering breaths that fogged the air around you, catching his expression- knotted brows and tight nose- compressed in a vague expression of lust- and thanks.

You ran your fingers through his hair- kissing up to his ear, “I meant everything I said, earlier, y'know.”

You felt him nod shakily. “I know…sometimes I just like to hear you say it.”

You snorted- there he was. “Cocky bastard.”

He chucked, pulling you into his chest, smile soft against the indent of your shoulder. “Well, you had it down your throat.”

You pulled back, giving him his first real kiss of the night. Admittedly, it was to shut him up, but when he pulled you closer still, lips molding to yours in the way they always do, you both knew it was because you wanted to.

You pulled away, eyes opening to his face- lips pursed and eyes closed (adorably stupid, stupidly adorable- somewhere between the two) you laughed, pressing a kiss between his brows.

“Okay Mr. Romance let’s get you to bed.”

You began to slide off his waist before he pulled you back down, eyes open and revealing something much more earnest. The harsher edges of his face seemed to smooth over (rock eroded, calmed), and he leaned his head to your chin.

“Thank you.”

You sighed into his hair- deep down you wanted to say he didn’t need to thank you. But he had enough about him tonight.

“You’re welcome- my throat is going to be sore because of you.”

His head came up to meet yours, and you knew he was back when you saw his classic smirk pull at the corners of his lips. “Should I loosen it up again?”

You rolled your eyes, sliding off his waist before grabbing his hand and pulling him up. You wrapped your arms up to base of his shoulder blades and he returned the embrace, body molding to the shape of your front.

The sensitive part of you wanted to stay like this forever- pushing into him- held- safe. If you closed your eyes, you could, and somewhere in your forever you heard,

“I love you.”

#ultraman rising #oneshot #fanfic #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x you #ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #fanfiction #f!reader

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cece693 · 5 months ago

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You Can't Outrun Fate (Hannibal Lecter x Male! Reader)

This came to me in a dream :) Well, a mix of dream and me seeking out alternative timelines in the Hannibal show. Hope you enjoy.

tags: posessiveness, slight jealousy, heartbreak, sad male reader, misunderstandings, m/n leaves Hannibal, but when does Hannibal allow something of his to escape his control, kidnapping

Hannibal Lecter was a drug, a highly addictive one at that. His charm, words, and actions ensnared you in his web until it was too late. This drug left you with nothing and no one, except him. M/N knew this all too well; he could hardly remember his old life before the murderer waltzed in and deemed him worthy of seeing past his multiple facades and joining his side. It had been years since that day, and M/N didn’t regret it. Like a blooming rose, M/N eagerly soaked up any attention Hannibal gave him. But nothing good lasts forever.

Hannibal was a man who thrived on adrenaline and enjoyed being challenged. What better challenge than finding Will Graham, a man harboring darkness which he tried hard to mask behind this front of normality? For the first time since M/N, someone had forced their way into Hannibal’s mind palace and made a home there.

M/N had known since the beginning of their relationship that it wouldn’t be long before Hannibal grew bored of him. Hannibal detested routine more than he detested rudeness—being chained to M/N without the ability to indulge in others was unbearable for him. M/N was foolish to think he would be enough to satiate the monster within Hannibal. Will Graham became the perfect canvas for Hannibal to mold into his equal, leaving M/N in the dust.

It began innocently enough with Hannibal bringing the detective into their conversations, making off-handed comments about Will’s unique gift. His fascination grew, and soon enough, Hannibal was deserting M/N at their home without a note or message, prioritizing Will’s 7:30 pm sessions.

At first, M/N tried to rationalize it. He told himself it was fine to see Hannibal off, knowing he would return soon. But then those therapy sessions started blending into real life, with Hannibal spending more and more time trailing behind Will like a shadow.

M/N knew it was over. He had been replaced. Hannibal's absence became more frequent, his excuses more transparent. Their relationship took a toll with both men unable to stand within the same room, their love replaced by a cold void. M/N felt a complex mix of emotions—pain, jealousy, and a deep sense of loss. He couldn't bring himself to hate Will.

If he weren’t so hopelessly in love with Hannibal, M/N might have pursued the detective too—he was interesting and handsome, a combination so rarely found in one person. In another universe, under different circumstances, perhaps they could have been friends, or even more. But in this life, Will was the catalyst for his heartbreak, the new obsession that had stolen Hannibal’s affection.

M/N and Hannibal had been avoiding the inevitable, so one day when M/N knew Hannibal would be busy, he packed his bags and took off. It was a hard decision but M/N knew it was the correct one. It wasn’t as if the murderer would miss him, the past weeks spent in solitude was enough to tell M/N he wasn’t needed. Perhaps Hannibal was already organizing a dinner party to celebrate his departure, aiming to introduce Will into his life. He had overstayed his welcome.

The initial months were challenging; detoxing from Hannibal was painful. Everywhere he looked, M/N couldn’t help but think of the man. Hannibal’s presence was ever-permanent in M/N's life, an inescapable shadow haunting his every step. The familiar scents, the echoes of their conversations, the ghost of Hannibal’s touch—everything served as a cruel reminder of what he had lost. M/N found himself drifting through each day in a haze, battling the overwhelming urge to return, to feel that addictive rush once more. But he owed Hannibal at least that much, a chance to restart with the partner of his dreams.

And when memories became too much to bear, M/N would depart once more. America, Britain, Ireland, Spain. Beautiful sights but it didn’t ease his emptiness. He’d even begun to bring partners to bed, hoping they’ll become his new addiction, but nothing. Perhaps this was M/N’s punishment: unable to move on and inevitably tied to Hannibal forever. Or perhaps this was fate.

Fate.

Such a funny thing—luck, destiny, karma, however you wanted to call it. Almost a year had passed since M/N left America when news reached him about the death of Will Graham. The incident was attributed to the Chesapeake Ripper, a detective who had been too close to uncovering the killer’s identity. The revelation left M/N shocked and unsettled. If it was Hannibal who disposed of Will and not a copycat, the question lingered: Why? What had driven Hannibal to eliminate someone he had once found so intriguing, someone whom he viewed as an equal?

Rushing to his apartment, M/N locked the door behind him. If Hannibal had killed Will, what guaranteed M/N he wouldn’t kill him next? Panic surged through him as he leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. His mind raced with thoughts of escape, but it was already too late. His nose wasn’t quick enough to detect the familiar scent of cologne before strong arms seized him and spun him around.

M/N froze, the blood draining from his face as he found himself face to face with Hannibal. But this wasn’t the man whom M/N remembered—his hair was longer and unstyled, falling into his eyes, and his clothing consisted of a simple black jacket and slacks rather than his usual three-piece suit.

"Hannibal." M/N managed to gasp, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief.

Hannibal's eyes bore into him. There was a wildness in his gaze, a hint of the unrestrained fury simmering beneath the surface. He looked like a man who had been through hell and emerged on the other side, more dangerous and unpredictable than ever. He still commanded attention, but now there was a dangerous demeanor he wore, as if he was on the verge of being Hannibal and whatever monster he’d tucked away.

“M/N.” Hannibal whispered back, his voice deceptively calm. “I didn’t think you would be so foolish as to run from me.” The back of his hand grazed his cheek when it harshly gripped his chin, forcing their eyes to lock. M/N couldn’t look away nor did he want to. Hannibal’s eyes were a tempest of emotions—anger, betrayal, hurt, but above all, love.

"I...I had to leave," M/N reasoned, his voice coming out steady despite the churning inside his stomach. “You know why.” All he received was a cold, hard glare from Hannibal.

"Do I?" he said softly, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "You left without a word, abandoning everything we had built together.” Hannibal took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. M/N could feel Hannibal’s warmth, and a part of him wanted to close the distance, but fear paralyzed him. "When you left, everything lost its meaning. Life became a dreary monotone."

“You made that choice.” M/N couldn’t help but hiss, not being able to contain his anger and sadness. “You paraded Will like some sort of prize, leaving me in the dust. How do you think I felt when the man I loved began to seek someone else?” Pushing Hannibal away, M/N remained standing, wanting to get everything off his shoulders. “You were the one who abandoned whatever we’ve built, not me.”

Hannibal’s expression softened. “I never meant to hurt you, M/N.” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “Will was a distraction, a fleeting curiosity. But you...you are irreplaceable.”

M/N scoffed at the man’s words. “It’s been a year, Hannibal. If I’m really irreplaceable as you claim, why didn’t you come sooner? You’re just now seeking me out after Will’s gone from the picture. Admit it, you want your play thing back.”

“You’re nothing of the sort, M/N.”

“Shut up!” M/N barked, his voice filled with desperation. “Just leave me alone, Hannibal. Go.” But his words fell on deaf ears. Cornered against the wall, M/N struggled as Hannibal grabbed his body and pressed a towel against the bottom of his face. Chloroform.

M/N fought against the overwhelming dizziness that crept over him, his limbs growing heavy as the world began to blur. He could feel Hannibal’s fingers gently running through the back of his head, a gesture that was both tender and chilling. Hannibal spoke the final words M/N would hear before darkness enveloped him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lose you again.”

#x male reader #male reader #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal tv #hannibal nbc #will graham #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher movies #slasher community

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pdriesta · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER ONE

“i want something that i know is real”

pairing — judexblack!girl

genres — fluff, slow burn, workplace romance (she’s a pt)

warnings — sexual themes (minors dni)

word count — 6k

summary — y/n, a rising physiotherapist, has just been promoted to work with real madrid's men's team. after a difficult breakup, she's determined to keep things professional. but when jude bellingham, the club's charming new star, sets his sights on her, maintaining boundaries becomes harder than ever. can she resist the pull, or will she risk everything for a love she swore she’d never fall for again?

an — i am so sorry for the delay! here’s chapter one (for the second time LOL) . i found the taglist thankfully through a reblog so let me know if any of you have reblogged the previous chapters it would save me so much time <3

masterlist

the sun was setting over valdebebas, casting long shadows across the training pitches as the players finished up a particularly grueling session. jude bellingham was among the last to leave the field, sweat dripping from his brow as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. his muscles ached, the intensity of the training pushing him to his limits, but he relished the challenge.

as he made his way to the physio room, his thoughts were already on y/n. he’d been looking for an excuse to talk to her again, and after today’s session, he had a perfect reason.

when jude entered the physio room, it was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. y/n was there, as he’d hoped, focused on organizing some equipment. she looked up as he walked in, her expression shifting from concentration to a warm, professional smile.

“hey, y/n,” jude greeted, his voice slightly breathless from the workout. “i think i might need some of that magic you worked on me the other day. today’s session was brutal.”

y/n nodded, her eyes scanning him with a practiced eye. “you look like you’ve been through it,” she remarked, a hint of concern in her tone. “come on, take a seat, and let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

jude followed her instructions, lowering himself onto the treatment table with a wince. “you’re telling me. i don’t think i’ve ever run that much in one session.”

y/n smiled softly as she gathered her supplies. “that’s madrid for you. they push you hard because they expect the best.”

“yeah, well,” jude leaned back on his elbows, letting out a dramatic sigh, “i guess that means i’ll be seeing a lot of you, then.”

there it was—the flirty edge to his voice that had become a bit of a trademark in their interactions. y/n, ever the professional, chose to ignore the bait, focusing instead on her work.

“you should be careful what you wish for,” she replied evenly, adjusting the height of the treatment table. “if you’re here too often, it means you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“trust me, i’ll do my best to stay out of trouble,” jude said, flashing her a charming grin. “but i wouldn’t mind having you around more often. makes the pain a little more bearable.”

y/n rolled her eyes playfully, but she didn’t comment, keeping her focus on his treatment. “let’s take a look at those legs,” she instructed, patting the space between his knees. “you can sit up for this.”

jude complied, sitting up straight as y/n moved to stand between his legs, her hands expertly probing the muscles in his thighs. the closeness of their positions was not lost on either of them. jude could feel the warmth of her body, the subtle brush of her arm against his as she worked, and he found himself leaning in just a little, his eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the softness of her lips.

but it was y/n who felt the shift the most. as she focused on the treatment, her fingers gently kneading the tense muscles in jude’s legs, she couldn’t help but take in his presence. up close, she noticed details she hadn’t before—the way his skin glistened slightly from the workout, the sharpness of his jawline, the deep brown of his eyes that held a certain intensity. it was no wonder social media was obsessed with him; he was undeniably handsome, and his charisma only added to the allure.

jude watched her intently as she worked, noting every small detail—the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the slight purse of her lips as she focused on the task at hand. each movement she made was precise, her hands skilled and confident, yet there was a certain grace in the way she touched his sore muscles, almost like she was pouring care into every motion. it was hard not to be captivated by her; she seemed so immersed in what she was doing, completely in her element, and there was something about that quiet confidence that drew him in even more.

as her fingers pressed and kneaded the tension from his muscles, jude couldn't help but feel his body start to relax under her touch. it was as if every knot of stress was being expertly unraveled, leaving behind nothing but a soothing warmth. his muscles softened, giving in to the gentle pressure she applied, and he could feel the lines between professional care and something more personal start to blur.

on her end, y/n was trying to stay focused, reminding herself to keep it strictly professional, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. as her hands moved over the hard planes of his back and shoulders, she couldn't help but notice just how solid he was—all muscle, lean and strong beneath her fingers. she could feel an unexpected attraction building within her, a warmth spreading through her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

the tension between them was palpable, an almost electric charge in the air that neither of them could ignore. jude felt it too, a stirring of something deeper that went beyond just the relief of having his muscles worked on. as her hands continued to glide over his skin, he had to stifle a groan, the sensation of her touch sending a wave of unexpected pleasure through him. it took everything in him to keep it together, not wanting to make the situation more complicated than it already felt.

“you’re pretty good at this, you know,” jude finally said, his voice low and smooth, trying to bring some levity to the situation while still testing the waters.

y/n glanced up at him, caught off guard by the softness in his tone. “thanks. i’ve had a lot of practice,” she replied, keeping her tone light despite the flutter in her chest.

he flashed a smile, leaning into her touch a little more. “ever thought about switching careers? maybe you could be a magician—making all my pain disappear like this.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up at his playful remark, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head. “i think i’ll stick to what i know. besides, i’m not sure magic is really my thing.”

jude chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and for a moment, they just held each other's gaze, the air between them thick with unspoken thoughts. she quickly looked away, focusing back on her work, but the moment lingered, neither of them quite ready to break the connection that had formed between them.

y/n felt a flutter in her chest, but she quickly pushed it aside, reminding herself of the line she needed to maintain. “well, if you want to keep feeling this good, you’ll need to follow my advice,” she said, her tone returning to its usual professional demeanor. “stretching, rest, and hydration. don’t forget it.”

“anything for you,” jude quipped, though there was a sincerity in his tone that made y/n pause.

she shook her head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “i’m serious, jude. if you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll be back here before you know it.”

“i hear you, y/n,” jude said, his voice softer now, the playful edge giving way to something more genuine. “and for what it’s worth, i do appreciate you looking out for me.”

y/n nodded, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his eyes. “it’s my job,” she replied, though the words felt a bit heavier than usual. “and besides, we can’t have one of our star players sidelined, can we?”

“no, we can’t,” jude agreed, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he looked at her. “but i think it’s more than just that.”

the air between them felt charged, a quiet intensity lingering as they held each other’s gaze. y/n could feel her resolve wavering slightly, the closeness of their positions making it harder to keep the professional distance she’d tried so hard to maintain.

as y/n finished working on jude’s leg, she hesitated for a moment, her usual professionalism wavering. she could sense there was something more on his mind, something that went beyond the aches and pains of training. after a brief pause, she decided to break the unspoken barrier she’d been carefully maintaining.

“hey, jude,” she began, her voice softer than before, “how are you feeling about the first game? it’s coming up pretty soon.”

jude looked at her, surprised by the shift in her tone. he hadn’t expected her to ask, but something in the way she did made him feel like he could open up. he let out a small sigh, leaning back on his hands as he considered his words.

“honestly?” jude started, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “i’m nervous. it’s a huge club, and there’s so much expectation. i’ve been dreaming about this for years, but now that it’s here, it’s kind of overwhelming. i just keep thinking—what if i don’t live up to it? what if the fans don’t love me the way they did back in dortmund?”

y/n paused in her work, her eyes meeting his with a gentle, understanding gaze. she could see the vulnerability in him, the weight of the pressure he was carrying. setting aside her role for a moment, she spoke from the heart.

“jude, it’s completely normal to feel that way,” y/n said, her voice warm and reassuring. “real madrid is one of the biggest clubs in the world, and with that comes a lot of pressure. but you were signed because they saw something special in you. the fans are going to see that too.”

jude listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers. there was something in the way she spoke—steady, confident, and genuine—that calmed the storm inside him.

“you’ve worked hard to get here,” y/n continued, “and that work isn’t going to go unnoticed. the fans, they’re passionate, yes, but they also appreciate hard work, dedication, and talent. you’ve got all of that. just be yourself out there, play the way you know how, and they’ll love you for it.”

jude let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “thanks, y/n,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “that actually helps a lot. i’ve been so caught up in my head, worrying about everything that could go wrong.”

y/n smiled, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “it’s going to be okay, jude. you’ve got this. and remember, you’re not alone—you’ve got a whole team behind you, and now, you’ve got me looking out for you too.”

a small smile tugged at the corners of jude’s lips, and he felt a warmth spreading through him at her words. “i appreciate that, y/n. really. it means a lot.”

they shared a quiet moment, the air between them shifting from the playful banter they’d grown accustomed to, to something more meaningful. y/n could feel the connection deepening, a mutual understanding that went beyond their professional roles.

“just promise me one thing,” y/n said, her voice lightening as she stepped back, returning to her professional demeanor. “when you’re out there on the pitch, remember to enjoy it. this is what you’ve worked for. let yourself have fun.”

jude nodded, his smile widening. “i promise. and i’ll make sure to give you a good reason to keep me in top shape.”

y/n laughed softly, shaking her head. “i’ll hold you to that, bellingham. now, go get some rest. you’ve earned it.”

as jude left the room, he felt lighter, more at ease with the challenges ahead. y/n’s words echoed in his mind, a steady reminder that he was more than capable of handling.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the real madrid facility, y/n found herself alone in the corridors, the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound breaking the quiet. she was one of the last to leave, her habit of staying late a comforting ritual, a way to unwind from the day's relentless pace and ensure everything was in order. tonight, however, her mind was preoccupied with a different kind of noise.

earlier, she’d run into laura, one of her old colleagues from the women’s team, who had dropped by to visit. laura’s eyes had lit up when she saw y/n, the excitement in her voice unmistakable.

“i can’t believe it, y/n!” laura had exclaimed, her enthusiasm palpable. “jude bellingham—he’s here! i’ve seen all the photos and videos, and he’s just as attractive in person. what’s he like? have you met him?”

y/n had nodded, a faint, polite smile on her lips. “yes, i’ve met him. he’s… charming.”

“charming?” laura had raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more. “come on, give me the details. is he as good-looking up close? i bet the girls must be falling over themselves.”

y/n’s thoughts had drifted back to their brief interactions. jude was undeniably attractive—his striking features, the way his eyes held a mixture of intensity and vulnerability. she’d noticed it all, yet she had no intention of letting her guard down. her role was professional, and she had no room for distractions, especially not of this kind.

“he’s very focused,” y/n had replied, trying to keep her tone neutral. “and yes, he’s as handsome as you’d expect. but I’m his physio, so my focus is on his recovery and performance, not his looks.”

“oh, I get it,” laura had said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “but don’t you ever think about... well, what it’d be like if things were different? I mean, if you weren’t working with him?”

y/n had felt a twinge of discomfort at the question. she had not allowed herself to entertain such thoughts, not after everything she’d been through. she’d always been one of the last to leave the facility, a habit that allowed her to keep her distance from the personal drama that could easily complicate her life. her thoughts had drifted to her past with javier, her toxic ex who had belittled her in every way imaginable.

javier had been her childhood friend, someone she thought she knew inside out. but once they started dating, his true colors had shown. his comments had ranged from derogatory remarks about her looks to nasty jabs about her work and sexuality. the once familiar face had become a source of disdain, his words leaving scars that she was still working to heal.

the thought of entering another complicated relationship, especially with someone as high-profile as jude, made her anxious. her job was her sanctuary, a place where she felt in control, where she could escape the memories of javier’s cruelty. the idea of mixing personal feelings with her professional life was a risk she was not willing to take.

as y/n had watched laura walk away, her heart heavy with unspoken fears, she had felt a mix of longing and resolve. she admired jude’s charisma and attractiveness, but her past experiences had taught her the importance of keeping a clear boundary between her personal and professional lives. there was too much at stake, and she was determined not to repeat past mistakes.

the empty facility seemed to echo her thoughts as she continued her evening routine, methodically checking each detail. jude’s presence was a reminder of the world outside her carefully maintained boundaries, a world that, while tempting, was fraught with risks she wasn’t ready to face. she remained focused, her resolve strengthened by the quiet solitude of the facility, knowing that while she might appreciate jude’s attractiveness, she would not let it disrupt the professional distance she had fought so hard to maintain.

as the final whistle blew, the stadium erupted in a roar of jubilation. y/n stood on the sidelines, her heart racing as she watched jude bellingham weave through defenders with a fluidity and grace that made the game look effortless. the staff around her were just as engrossed, their eyes fixed on the field, their murmurs of approval punctuating the air.

y/n’s gaze was locked on jude, her admiration growing with each precise pass and each calculated move. she had seen him in training, had felt the intensity of his drive, but seeing him perform in a live match was something entirely different. the way he commanded the ball, the confidence in every stride—it was a testament to why he was considered one of the brightest talents in football.

and then, it happened. jude received a perfectly timed pass, his body shifting into position with the grace of a seasoned player. in a swift, decisive moment, he struck the ball with precision, sending it soaring into the back of the net. the stadium exploded into cheers, and y/n felt a surge of pride and excitement that she hadn’t anticipated. jude’s first game, and he’d already made such an impact.

as the players celebrated, y/n watched jude with a mixture of awe and joy. his face was alight with exhilaration, a broad grin spreading across his features as his teammates surrounded him. she could see the sheer relief in his eyes, a weight lifted off his shoulders as he soaked in the adulation from the fans.

when the final whistle blew and the players began their exit, y/n remained on the sidelines, a quiet smile on her face. she felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing she’d played a part in helping him reach this moment. as jude made his way toward the tunnel, still riding the high of victory, he glanced around, his gaze searching for someone.

to y/n’s surprise, jude’s eyes locked onto hers. with a burst of energy fueled by adrenaline, he jogged over, his smile widening. “y/n!” he called out, his voice filled with unrestrained joy.

y/n’s heart skipped a beat as jude approached, her mind racing. she had expected a handshake, maybe a polite acknowledgment, but this was different. as he reached her, he extended his hand for a handshake, but before she could react, he pulled her into a hug.

the contact was electric, a rush of warmth and energy that left y/n momentarily frozen. jude’s embrace was firm and enthusiastic, and she could feel the thudding of his heart, the exhilaration that pulsed through him. her arms remained stiff at her sides for a moment, her cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body—it was overwhelming. she could sense the bewildered looks from some of the staff nearby, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected display.

“jude,” she managed to say, her voice barely more than a whisper. “this is… unexpected.”

jude pulled back slightly, his hands still resting lightly on her shoulders. his eyes sparkled with mischief and a hint of flirtation. “i couldn’t help it,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “i wanted to thank you, and i’m just so... thrilled right now. i didn’t think i’d score on my first game. i was nervous, but you gave me the confidence i needed.”

y/n’s heart fluttered at his words. she was touched by his sincerity, though her professional demeanor was struggling to keep up with the personal breach. “i’m glad you felt that way,” she said, forcing a smile as she tried to regain her composure. “congratulations on the goal, jude. you played amazingly.”

“thanks, y/n,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer tone, his gaze lingering on her. “you know, I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s session. can’t wait to see you again.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up further at his words. she was already flustered from the hug, and his flirtatious remark only added to her embarrassment. she struggled to find her voice, her usual professional distance feeling even more crucial now. “i’ll be here,” she managed to say, her voice a touch shy. “see you then.”

jude chuckled, his eyes twinkling with playful intent. “i’ll make sure to keep my muscles in top shape just for you. and who knows, maybe I’ll bring some of that winning energy to our session.”

y/n felt her face warm at his flirtatious comment. she fumbled with her words, trying to maintain her professional composure. “um, that sounds... good. just, um, don’t overdo it out there.”

jude’s smile widened, his gaze lingering on her with a mix of admiration and affection. “promise I’ll do my best,” he said, his voice softening. “and I’ll make sure to give you a reason to keep me in top shape.”

as he turned to head toward the locker room, y/n watched him go, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. the brief embrace and his flirtatious remark had been a jolt, a reminder of how complicated emotions could become when you least expected it. she sighed softly, the reality of her role settling back into place as she prepared to head home.

when she left the facility, her thoughts were still with jude. she admired his talent and charisma, but she was acutely aware of the need to maintain her distance. the unexpected hug and his flirtatious comment had been a reminder of the fine line she was walking—between personal feelings and professional boundaries.

the lunchroom at the facility was bustling with activity as staff and players refueled after a demanding morning. y/n sat at a corner table, her usual spot, with a book in one hand and her lunch in the other. she preferred to keep to herself during these moments, finding solace in her own company amidst the chaos.

as she was about to take a bite of her sandwich, the familiar sound of footsteps drew closer. she looked up to see jude bellingham approaching, his smile as bright as ever. her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of surprise and apprehension swirling inside her. jude had already made quite an impression, and now, here he was, interrupting her solitary lunch.

“hey, y/n,” jude greeted, his voice warm and casual. “mind if i join you?”

y/n blinked, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. she glanced around the room, noting the curious glances from some of the staff members. she was about to protest, but jude was already pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her.

“uh, sure,” y/n replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “but, uh, why are you here? i mean, it’s lunchtime.”

jude chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “why not? i figured i’d keep you company. besides, i didn’t get a chance to really chat with you after the game.”

y/n felt a rush of warmth at his words, but she tried to maintain her composure. “you didn’t have to,” she said, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution. “i’m just doing my job, you know.”

“right,” jude said, leaning in slightly. “but i enjoy talking with you. and, well, it’s not every day i get to sit with someone who knows what’s really going on behind the scenes.”

y/n felt a knot of nervousness in her stomach. she had been trying to keep things professional, but jude’s relaxed demeanor and his easy smile were slowly eroding her defenses. “you’re not playing games with me, are you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “what’s your intention here?”

jude’s expression softened, and he leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “games? no. i’m just trying to get to know you better. you’ve been really supportive, and i appreciate that. i guess i just want to be friends—or more if that’s where things lead.”

y/n was taken aback by his openness. her mind raced, struggling to process his words. she had always been careful with her emotions, especially after her past experiences. the idea of letting someone in, even in a friendly capacity, was daunting.

“friends,” she repeated, more to herself than to him. “but why me? you have plenty of people to talk to.”

jude’s smile remained steady, but there was a hint of sincerity in his eyes. “you seem different. you’re grounded and real. it’s refreshing. plus, i feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t get that feeling with everyone.”

y/n felt her cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and surprise. she was used to being the reserved one, keeping her emotions in check. but jude’s words were slowly breaking down her walls.

“so, uh, what do you want to talk about?” y/n asked, her voice a bit shy. “i mean, if we’re going to be friends.”

jude’s eyes lit up, and he leaned in slightly. “let’s start with something simple. tell me more about you. what’s your story? i’d love to hear about it.”

as they continued to talk, y/n found herself opening up more than she had intended. she spoke about her background, her move from spain, and her work at the facility. jude listened intently, asking questions and sharing stories of his own. with each passing minute, y/n felt a growing sense of comfort, though it was tinged with fear.

inside, y/n was wrestling with her emotions. she was scared of how easily she was letting her guard down, and how much she was enjoying jude’s company. the fear of becoming too attached, of losing control over her carefully maintained boundaries, was a constant undercurrent.

despite her internal struggle, she couldn’t deny that jude’s presence was comforting. he was genuine, and the way he looked at her with such attention made her feel valued in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

as their conversation continued, y/n found herself smiling and laughing more freely. the lunchroom seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them and their growing connection.the lunchroom was slowly emptying out, but jude and y/n wouldn’t part even as they said their good re still deep in conversation. jude leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he listened intently. y/n, though still somewhat guarded, found herself drawn to the ease of their dialogue.

“so, tell me,” jude said, his tone light and curious, “what got you into physiotherapy? it seems like such a demanding field.”

y/n took a sip of her water, considering her response. “it’s kind of a long story,” she began, her voice tentative but steady. “i’ve always been interested in how the body works, how it heals. it started with me playing sports in school and getting injured a lot. i wanted to understand how to recover faster and help others do the same.”

jude’s eyes lit up with interest. “that’s actually really cool. it’s amazing how personal experiences can shape our career paths. i had a similar thing with football. after a few serious injuries, i became fascinated with how the body responds to training and recovery.”

y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “so, you’ve had your fair share of injuries too?”

jude nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “yeah, a few. nothing too serious, but enough to make me appreciate the work that goes into staying fit and healthy. and, of course, having good physiotherapists like you.”

y/n blushed slightly at the compliment but tried to keep her demeanor professional. “well, it’s all part of the job. making sure players like you stay in top shape.

“and you’re doing a great job at it,” jude said earnestly. “i’ve noticed the difference already.”

y/n’s heart fluttered at his words, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside. “thanks. it’s good to hear that my work is making a difference.”

“absolutely,” jude agreed. “so, what do you do for fun when you’re not working? any hobbies or interests outside of physiotherapy?”

y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. she wasn’t used to sharing much about herself, especially not with someone she didn’t know well. “i like reading,” she finally admitted. “and, um, cooking. it’s a nice break from the routine.”

“really? that’s awesome,” jude said, his enthusiasm genuine. “i’ve been trying to cook more. maybe you can give me some tips. i’m still learning.”

y/n laughed softly, feeling a bit more relaxed. “sure, i can do that. just don’t expect gourmet meals right away.”

“hey, i’ll take any advice i can get,” jude said, grinning. “what’s your favorite dish to cook?”

“hmm,” y/n pondered, a smile touching her lips. “i’d have to say paella. it’s a bit of a project, but it’s worth it.”

jude’s eyes widened in interest. “paella? that sounds amazing. i’ve heard it’s quite the experience to make.”

“yeah, it can be,” y/n said, feeling a bit more animated. “it’s all about getting the right balance of flavors. it’s a bit like... well, like a football team. everyone has to play their part.”

“nice analogy,” jude said, nodding in appreciation. “so, do you have any other hidden talents or interests i should know about?”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “i don’t think there’s anything particularly hidden. i’m pretty straightforward, i guess.”

“straightforward can be a good thing,” jude said with a wink. “i think it’s refreshing. but don’t be surprised if i keep asking you questions to learn more.”

y/n felt a flush rise to her cheeks again. “i suppose that’s fair. but don’t expect me to reveal everything at once.”

“deal,” jude said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “i’ll take it slow. so, tell me about something you’re passionate about, something that makes you excited.”

y/n looked down, her thoughts drifting. “i guess... i’m passionate about helping people. seeing someone come in with an injury and then watching them recover and get back to doing what they love—there’s something really rewarding about that.”

jude’s gaze softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. “that sounds incredible. it must be really fulfilling to see the progress firsthand.”

“it is,” y/n agreed, her voice growing warmer. “it’s what keeps me motivated, even on the tough days.”

jude’s eyes met hers, and there was a moment of quiet understanding between them. “you’re really dedicated to your work. i can tell it’s more than just a job for you.”

y/n smiled, though her heart was racing. “yeah, it is. and you’re pretty dedicated to football, from what i’ve seen.”

jude laughed, a genuine, easy sound. “i guess we both have our passions. it’s nice to find someone who understands that drive.”

y/n nodded, feeling a mix of warmth and apprehension. “it is. and i appreciate you being open with me. it’s not always easy to find common ground.”

“i’m glad we did,” jude said, his smile bright and sincere. “so, what’s one thing you’d like to do that you haven’t had the chance to yet?”

y/n thought for a moment, her eyes drifting to the window. “i’d love to travel more. there are so many places i’d like to see.”

“traveling is great,” jude agreed. “maybe one day you’ll get the chance. and hey, if you ever need a travel buddy, let me know.”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his casual invitation. she laughed softly, a bit shy. “we’ll see about that.”

jeventually, the lunch break drew to a close, and y/n realized she had been talking with jude for a lot longer than she had intended. she looked at him, her expression a mix of relief and apprehension.

“i should get going,” she said, her voice tinged with shyness. “but, um, it was nice talking with you, jude.”

jude’s smile was warm and encouraging. “same here, y/n. i’m looking forward to more of these chats. and who knows, maybe we’ll find some common interests.”

y/n nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. “yeah, maybe.”

as she gathered her things and prepared to leave, y/n’s mind was still buzzing from their conversation. she was more comfortable around jude than she had planned to be, and that scared her. but she couldn’t deny the small, hopeful part of her that was looking forward to their next interaction.

as jude walked away, y/n watched him, her mind buzzing with the unexpected connection they’d formed. she was starting to let her guard down, and it scared her. she didn’t want to complicate things, especially with her past and her professional boundaries. but a part of her couldn’t deny the small thrill of getting to know someone who seemed to understand her so well.

as the day went on, y/n found herself replaying their conversation, trying to make sense of her feelings. she was still unsure about what the future held, but for now, she couldn’t help but look forward to their next interaction, even as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

as the final echoes of the day’s activity faded, y/n found herself alone in the physio room, the quiet a stark contrast to the lively bustle of earlier. the fading daylight cast a soft glow through the windows, illuminating the room in a gentle amber hue. she methodically tidied up the space, her movements automatic as her mind replayed the day’s events. the room, now peaceful and still, was the perfect setting for her thoughts to unravel.

the memory of jude's playful banter, his genuine interest, and the unexpected hug replayed in her mind. she tried to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts kept drifting back to their conversation. it was easy to get lost in the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel like her thoughts and feelings mattered.

with a sigh, y/n leaned against the counter, her thoughts swirling. she was acutely aware of the delicate balance she was trying to maintain. her past with javier had left scars that were not easily forgotten, and the professional boundaries she’d set for herself were there for a reason. yet, jude’s presence was a constant, tantalizing distraction, pulling her into uncharted territory.

she glanced at the clock on the wall, noting how late it had gotten. she was often one of the last to leave, finding solace in the quiet after the bustling activity of the day. it gave her time to think, to process, and to escape from the complexities of her interactions with others. tonight was no different, except that her thoughts were unusually tangled.

as she packed up the last of the supplies, her phone buzzed with a message from laura. y/n glanced at the screen and read the text, but her mind was still occupied with thoughts of jude. she wondered if he truly understood the potential impact of his actions on her. did he know how much she wanted to keep her distance, or was he simply oblivious to the emotional turmoil he was causing?

y/n shook her head, trying to clear the haze of confusion. she reminded herself of her priorities—her work, her self-preservation, and her commitment to keeping things professional. it was essential to remain focused, despite the fluttering feelings that jude’s attention had stirred up.

as she finally finished tidying the room, y/n took a deep breath and headed for the exit. the evening air was cool against her skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat of her internal conflict. she walked to her car with a sense of resolve, determined to sort through her feelings and not let them cloud her judgment.

she knew that the next time she saw jude, things might be different. their interactions had the potential to deepen, and she would need to be ready to navigate the complexities that came with it. but for now, as she drove away from the facility, she focused on the road ahead, both literally and figuratively.

her thoughts were a tangled web of excitement and apprehension, but as she glanced at the empty passenger seat, she reminded herself that she was in control of her own path. whatever happened next, she would face it with the same dedication and professionalism that had guided her this far.

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