#maybe after my week off (!!!) i will Start Another Small Project

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

....oh. it's been a minute since i've finished a knitting project, huh :(

[g4rvez-r3id]

Protector

Boyfriend!Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer have been together a few months and he’s beginning to notice how often you keep your guard up and he converses with you about his concerns and so you tell him why you act the way you do.

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: established relationship, spencer being a concerned bf, mentions of past physical assault, reader has ✨trauma✨, crying, kissing, mention of past trauma, dark humor (?), spencer lowkey doesn’t get dark humor, it’s cutesy towards the end, lowkey projected here sorry y’all

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so i wanted to write another personal one-shot, i wanted to share my own personal experience on here so please tread this lightly :) i hope y’all like this one because this one did truly come from the heart. <3

He noticed it after leaving Rossi’s mansion one night. Spencer’s team had invited you out to dinner. You’d only been dating just a few months but they’d heard all about you from your dear old, doting boyfriend and were eager to meet you.

His colleague, author David Rossi had told your boyfriend to invite you to dinner over in his big mansion. You’d almost said no, that maybe it was too soon but Spencer encouraged you and well, he was good at doing that.

He’d met you at your workplace, a bookstore no less. He’d been looking for a copy of Slaugherhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. when he’d spotted you in your natural habitat, putting more books on the shelves, dressed in an outfit you’d been comfortable in topped with converse and he was hooked.

He started coming up with excuses, just to see you and even had the courage to talk with you about where to find certain despite his excellent memory but you didn’t need to know about that, yet.

Eventually, you’d figured him out and decided to ask him out on a date to put an end to his misery.

And since then, you’d been going steady for just a few months. And it was an understatement to say that these had been the happiest few months of both of your lives.

However, there were still things you needed to figure out about each other.

Like, when it came to Spencer’s job, you knew to be supportive and realize that you weren’t the only person in the world that needed Spencer Reid. Or that you loved the winter season despite not being a big fan of Christmas.

But this was something new and something he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about. When you left Rossi’s mansion that night with Spencer, arm in arm with him, you held your breath and kept looking around in the streetlights. He noticed it on the way into Rossi’s place as well. Spencer had parked a little far than intended but assured it wasn’t too far but you seemed to have another thing on your mind.

Eventually, Spencer brushed it off and chalked it up to you being anxious to meeting Spencer’s team.

But then it happened again. You’d both gone to the grocery store at eight o’clock, wanting to get snacks for the sleepover you’d wanted with him after a long hard week of work on both ends.

And the whole time you’d been shopping with Spencer, you’d been looking at the other customers and even tensed up on the way out at an older man sitting on a bench nearby with a grumpy look etched on his face. Spencer had also noticed how you clutched your taser in your hand until you both got to the car that night.

He’d asked you if you were okay but you gave him a small smile and assured to him — “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just not used to going anywhere at night.”

And he’d had his answer. You didn’t like going anywhere at night. It was as simple as that.

But just to be sure it was nothing more, he began to secretly study you. And this was where he started to get concerned.

He began to notice how you often clutched his arm tightly while you two walked in the park and were by yourselves. He also noticed how you took your taser everywhere you went. And how you constantly looked over your shoulder, even if you were in a group of people. He also noticed how you never strayed far, keeping close to a big group and never went alone anywhere — unless it was work and even then, you took your taser with you.

Spencer even decided to ask Morgan to see if there was anything he could give him advice on and even Morgan didn’t know how to respond to that. “To be honest, I’ve never dealt with anything like that. The best thing you should do is just talk to her. See what’s up.”

So, Spencer waited. He waited until it happened again. And it did, you’d met up with him after work since you were going to his place tonight and you surprised him by going to the bureau — since Penelope had wanted to see you and who are you to deny the sweetest woman in the goddamn world?

He’d led you both back to the parking garage. And he noticed how even though the parking garage was empty, you still kept your guard up and kept looking over your shoulder.

So, as he drove back to his place in your car — he told you he was driving, no questions asked — he struggled with how to begin the conversation. You could tell something was up by the way he kept staring at you in the car. But he didn’t say a word.

And then, you both arrived back to his apartment and he still couldn’t say anything to you. I mean, he was talking to you but there was something behind his eyes that was holding something back.

It wasn’t until you both sat down on his couch, watching a movie and catching him stare at you every few minutes that you paused the movie and finally asked him what’s wrong.

Spencer crinkles his brows together, “What? Noth-Nothing’s wrong.” He tells.

“You’ve been staring at me since we left your workplace. And normally, I appreciate your gaze but right now, it’s freaking me out.” You explain and Spencer looks down, he never really did have a good poker face and he’d been known to slip up quite a few times. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

Spencer opens his mouth but you rake your fingers through his chocolate locks and all rational thought seems to go out the window. But he knows that you guys need to have this conversation since you’ve confronted him on it now.

“Are you… okay?” Spencer starts subtly, hoping on this being a way to start the conversation about your recent behavior he’s noticed.

“I am great, Spencer. Are you okay?” You ask with a small smile. A smile he loves seeing on your face. A smile he appreciates and wants to see everyday. A smile he envisions seeing every night before he goes to bed. He nods, “I’m okay. It’s just…”

Spencer sighs and maybe it’s just time to rip off the bandaid. It’s time that you two need to talk about this like adults. Because this has gone on for too long and he’s starting to become worried.

“You’ve been acting a little… squirrelly lately. And I can’t help but notice that… every time we go somewhere at night, you’re more…” Guarded? Nervous? “On edge,” He chooses. “And you hold onto me a lot when we’re both out and— not-not that I’m complaining about that, I love when you do that but… I’m just starting to grow a little concerned because— I like you a lot. And I just want you to feel like you can talk to me if something is bothering you.”

You look at Spencer and you can tell he’s genuinely concerned and really does care about you. You’re kind of flattered that he’s noticed a lot about your behavior, despite it being a little troubling. You know it can be to other people. You’d avoided having this conversation with him, not wanting to burden him with it like other people have claimed that you have in the past. The people that had you’re no longer friends with anymore.

You sigh and you know that maybe it is best to talk to him about it. Spencer had never been one to judge and you knew that he would never ever say anything negative about your fears — however, the fear that he’d think you were overreacting was scary to face. Especially when Spencer was such a logical person already. But he wanted to know and maybe it’s best to speak out your truth.

“Okay, okay, okay,” You sit up a bit and he does the same. “But please do not say I’m overreacting or being overdramatic because I’ve dealt with that too many times already and I can’t handle it from you either.” You find yourself telling him and he shakes his head assuringly, “I’d never think that.”

You take a deep breath and look at him and all you can see on his face is adoration and concern and hopefulness. “Okay, uh…” Where do you start? “When I was sixteen, I… went to this Halloween party. And… it was my first party so I was excited. I went with a few friends and… only one of us knew how to drive at the time, so they went to go drop another one of our friends off because of her curfew and was going to come back.”

“Well, while she was gone, the party got raided by cops and a lot of people left. It was just me and this one friend standing on the sidewalk waiting for our friend to come back. But while we were waiting…” You pause, the memories coming back like a floodgate and you close your eyes. It was not a happy time in your life and you blocked it out of your memory for good reason.

Spencer could see you getting worked up about it and he puts his hand on your thigh, grounding you in a way you can’t explain. “You don’t have to do this or explain it to me if you don’t want to.” You shake your head, “No, you should know.”

Spencer almost pulls his hand away but you hold him there and he lets you, knowing that maybe you need to physical touch right now.

“We were waiting and this car… stopped right in the middle of the road and three people came out of the car, a girl and a couple of guys and they were all wearing these clown masks and… they tried to take our stuff. I thought it was just some joke so I just told my friend to ignore them and walk away but…” You pause once more and Spencer waits patiently for your sentence.

“The girl punched me. Hit me right in the nose.” Spencer winces at this, hating to imagine your pain in that moment. And he almost doesn’t want to hear the rest of the story. “Luckily, I didn’t go down. I, uh, almost tried to hit her, actually. But I didn’t know what she had, a knife, a gun… so I told my friend to run. And we both ran. That was the fastest I probably ever ran in my life. And there were these people nearby that heard us yelling and they helped us. All I remember is… my devil costume and… my nose bleeding all over my outfit. I don’t think I ever wore that skirt again.” Spencer’s heart physically hurts from that sentence alone.

“For a minute there, I felt weak. And… scared. I didn’t go anywhere alone for a while and it was bad. That friend ended up telling everyone what happened when I wanted to keep it quiet.” Spencer knows that your fierce nature never goes unnoticed by him. You were so tough, so free-willed. When you had issues with customers, they were often dealt with by your attitude and to put it lightly, you were a badass. To hear that you were vulnerable at one point made him sad because that wasn’t who he knew you as and he hated that someone made you feel weak.

“Did anyone ever find those people that did that to you?” Spencer asks, his tone calm and steady. You shake your head, “I told my parents and we filed a police report but… no one ever caught ‘em. Not to my knowledge anyway.” You inform.

“But I’ve gotten better with it, but I still keep my guard up. I hate that I have to look over my shoulder every time I’m out of the house, I hate that I have to take my taser everywhere I go, I hate dealing with this. But it’s my everyday life.” You tell and Spencer looks from the ground to you. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

“I just… didn’t want to be a burden on you,” You sigh. “And I felt like I didn’t need to say anything because most people don’t get it. Some actually laugh because of how I phrase it.”

“How you phrase it?” Spencer asks, clearly confused because what’s so funny about someone attempting a mugging on somebody? “I always say… I almost got mugged by a few clowns.” You find yourself sheepishly laughing but Spencer, however, doesn’t think it’s funny. “I just kinda started making a joke of it. I figure it’s the one thing I can do to deal with it. Dark humor, I guess.”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Spencer said. “Something worse could’ve happened to you. It’s already bad enough you got punched in the face.” He explained.

“It was a really long time ago, Spencer. I’m okay, now.” You remind him and he takes a sharp sigh, “I know. I just hate the fact that you went through that. That everyone makes a joke of it, that no one else seems to care about the fact that you got hurt when I care so much about that because you deserved better than how you got treated.”

You take a deep breath and a weight is off of your shoulders. Part of you is glad you shared that with Spencer finally but another part of you is scared to be transparent with him about your fears. But the way he’s reacting sets all of those fears aside. He was the person you needed when you were sixteen and suddenly, you want to turn back time and tell your teenage self that everything is gonna be just fine.

“You’re such a sweet and good person,” Spencer takes his hands to your face, holding you lovingly and close. “I don’t understand why someone would want to hurt someone as sweet as you.” He mutters to you.

Suddenly, you fall forward, holding him tightly in a hug and he accepts the hug rather quickly holding you. He feels as your dig your face deep and droplets on his neck. Are you crying?

He pulls back and looks at you face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “I’m—I’m sorry,” You shake your head. “I don’t know why I’m crying…” Spencer gives you a soft look. “Sharing a truth, especially a difficult one, can make you feel vulnerable and exposed, leading to tears. It’s perfectly normal.” Spencer reminds you and you sniffle at this.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Spencer tells. “I know that wasn’t easy.” You nod, “You deserved to know. I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with but—” He interrupts you with a chaste kiss on your lips. He’s gentle and loving, in every way, shape and form. “You are very easy to love. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Spencer holds you close that night. You continued watching your movie and had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he kept his arm around protectively. He watched you as you slept, vowing to never let anything like what happened to you at sixteen, never happen to you again so long as he could help it. He’d protect you until the day he died. He’d take a bullet for you, catch a grenade for you, he’d sacrifice never speaking again if it meant saving you. He’d never let anyone hurt you or even dare to touch you.

And he’d wished to take your fears, your guard and your trauma away just to see you feel happy and carefree. He hates that it’s all so normalized with you because of what you went through. And he swears to make you feel as safe as you need to be while you’re out. He’ll start going to stores at night by himself, he’ll keep on being your knight in shining armor, he’ll keep being the protector you need him to be.

“I love you, Y/n,” He whispers, saying the words he’d dare not say until he was ready to say them to you. “And I will always protect you.”

[tteotlma]

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

[stanzo75]

could I ask for a George Weasley x reader where she's a Malfoy and they are dating in secret and her parents arrange a marriage for her after she finishes Hogwarts so she runs off with George?

Here we are, I hope you enjoy it 🫶

I have NOT proofread this so I'm sorry for mistakes, I tried my best:)

Please send in any hp requests omg I'm loving them🫶

"You're malfoy's sister, huh?" An unfamiliar voice piped up from behind you, you turn to be met with two tall identical boys. They had the trademark weasley ginger hair, various small scars across their bodies from pranks gone wrong, which you would eventually use to tell them apart before you knew them better, you could immediately tell that these were the trouble making weasley twins. Your brother, Draco, had complained about them for ages even before attending the school. You had just transferred in from ilvermorny, where your parents had sent you for the first 3 years so Draco could be the star at hogwarts. You and Draco were close in age, Draco only being 10 months older than you. Eventually your father had gotten tired of your complaining of ilvermorny, and allowed you to go to hogwarts.

"What do you need?" you ask them in a flat tone. All you had heard about them was that they were foolish and annoying, causing trouble everywhere they went.

"Calm down sweetheart" one says as the other adds on "we were just checking out the new malfoy," "hopefully she's not a wretched as her brother," "I sure hope not," "we don't need another entitled malfoy"

They go back and forth, talking as if you weren't even there. Maybe Draco was right, they are quite annoying, and rude.

You scoff and walk away, still hearing their banter from behind you.

Your second interaction with george was when you were unfortunately paired with him in potions class. You groaned as you heard both your names called out. You thought for sure you were going to fail the project, but surprisingly he worked well in class. And when you arrived at the library later that night to finish up the project, he was actually really sweet, and easy to talk to. Time flew by as the two of you chatted, laughing and talking about anything you could think of. He showed you his scars and explained each one, you listened intently. Your father would have never let you have even half as much fun as George did. That was when you started to grow fond of him, and when he realized that not all malfoys are jerks. And now at least you could tell him apart from fred, George has a small scar on his neck from fireworks gone wrong that fred didn't have. You talked until you realized that it was much past curfew, and you'd be in so much trouble with your father if you got caught and they contacted home. George helped you calm down after you freaked out and showed you a secret passageway that led you almost straight to your house tower, and you got in without getting caught. The project wasn't even finished, but you were still happy with how the night went.

Eventually, sneaking around with him became a regular thing, staying out late every night just to spend time with the sweet ginger boy. And when the yule ball was coming up, he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. You happily accepted, and instead of going to the ball you danced with him in his dorm. You wish that you could've been seen with him at the ball, but Draco would've snitched immediately and you would be sent straight back to ilvermorny.

You kept your relationship secret for years, only Fred knew, and Ron who had accidentally walked in on the two of you snogging once, but he kept his word and never told anyone.

And then hogwarts ended, you graduated 2 years after George did. (Although he still snuck in just to see you, and you spent weekends at his shop)

2 weeks after graduation you got the worst news of your life. You were being married off into another rich pureblood family. Your parents cared about nothing more than keeping the family line wealthy and pure, no matter how much you cried and begged. They were marrying you off into the flint family. To Marcus flint. Who was an undeniably ugly man, inside and out.

You cried for weeks, sending endless letters to your devastated boyfriend, who tried his best to comfort you despite his own sorrows.

And now was the night before the wedding, you laid in your bed, sulking. Your eyes were already completely cried out, you had absolutely nothing left to cry even if you had the energy to. You didn't want to do anything, you couldn't eat or sleep or shower and take care of yourself. You truly looked a mess and your parents screamed at you until their voices went hoarse. But you didn't care. You knew the house elves would clean you up tomorrow anyways, but it's not like you wouldn't show up to the wedding looking as if you had lived in the woods for the past month if you could. The only thing that brought you any joy was rereading letters from George, luckily you had kept them well hidden so no one had found them.

Suddenly you hear tapping on the window, and you look up to see am owl there, holding a letter. You immediately jump up to open the window and recognize the weasley's owl, letting it in and petting it before taking the letter. It stood on your desk as you read.

"Pack your things, take everything you will need. I love you sweetheart, I'll see you soon. -yours truly"

You had little to no idea what this meant, but you sent off the owl with a few treats and immediately locked your door to get to packing. Luckily your parents and your brother were off having dinner with another rich snobby family, but you couldn't risk it. You packed your hygiene products, perfumes, jewelry, important items, and clothes, leaving behind the wedding dress in the closet and hiding the packed trunks underneath your bed. You cleaned up your room the best you could, leaving it as close to how it looked before as you could.

When your parents finally arrived home late, they didn't even bother to check on you, they went straight to bed along with your brother.

You waited for hours until you couldn't help drifting off to sleep, awoken later with sharp knocks on your window. You jumped up in shock, glancing at the window to find.. George? He was in the passenger seat of the weasley family's flying blue car. You room was 3 stories off the ground, and it made you slightly nervous.

You open the window and speak in a hushed whisper, "what are you doing here?"

"Coming to save you, get your things" he whispers back, giving a small smile.

You hesitate before grabbing 2 packed trunks and hauling them over to the window. Fred, who was driving the car moved it around and popped the trunk, allowing you to lug your belongings in before turning the car again to the door of the backseat. Ron, who was in the back, opened the door for you. You hesitate, looking at the long distance between your window and the ground. If you didn't make this jump you'd be seriously injured, or dead. Ron leaned out and held out his hands to help you, and you took them, holding on tightly as you stepped up onto the window sill. Taking a deep breath, you jump, barely making it, and he pulls you into the car and shutting the door swiftly. And just like that fred hit the gas, speeding off before any of your family could notice the blue car outside of their mansion, or that you were gone.

Eventually they arrive at the weasley's home. You were nervous and you'd never actually met any of George's other family. But as George led you into the house while fred and Ron grabbed your trunks, molly was waiting at the door with open arms, pulling you into a hug.

"OH my sweet George has told me all about you!! You're just as beautiful as he described. You poor soul, I'm just so glad my boys could get you!" She exclaims.

The hug felt weird, but not in a bad way. You've never really been hugged before, but it felt,, comforting. After a moment you hug back.

"Thank you Mrs weasley, George is just amazing. You clearly raised him so well"

She pulls away with a huge smile on her face.

"Come! Come inside! Let me show you to your room" she urges you, leading you into the house.

It was beautiful, it wasn't as big as the mansion you had previously lived in, but you liked that. It was warm and smelled of cinnamon and caramel.

Molly leads you up some stairs, bringing you to a decently sized bedroom with the 3 boys following close behind. Fred and Ron drop off your trunks and rush off to the kitchen as they had missed dinner. George leaned against the doorframe, watching as his mother showed his girlfriend around the room she had worked so hard to set up. Molly eventually left, allowing them to get settled in as she prepared more food.

You sit down on the bed, it was amazingly soft, unlike anything you had ever felt. George sat next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"So? What do you think?" He asks gently, "I know it's a lot and this is all going really fast but I just couldn't let you get married to that jerk, not when you belong with me"

You smile at him, this was all so new to you, and yes it was overwhelming, but you loved it.

"George, this is the most amazing thing you could have ever done for me" you whisper, your emotions already taking control of you. You could feel tears forming in your eyes, happy tears.

He leans in to kiss you gently, cupping his hands to your face and gently rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs.

"You better get used to it, I'm never letting you be away from me again." He whispers softly. Molly calls the two of you down for food, and you realize how much you were starving.

George smiles at you, "are you ready to start your new life here?

You smile and nod in response, "I've been ready"

**bonus**

After around a year, George had found a house for the two of you, and had recently proposed. You don't know what your parents were up to now, or if they even knew where you had gone, all you knew is that they had publicly disowned you, and you were fine with that. You had george's family who were a thousand times better anyways. You were at home doing dishes when you heard a knock at the door. When you go to open it, there is no one there, just a letter. It was addressed to you, written in green ink.

You open it and read it slowly.

"I hope this finds you well. I've missed you since you left, but I understand why. I hope you know that I never hated you, and I support you relationship with the weasley. As much as I hated them during school, George is good for you, and I'm glad you have him. I won't tell mum or dad about where you are, or who you're with. I've known for a while now, I just couldn't bring myself to write until now. If you're up for it, maybe we could meet and catch up. And if that goes well, hopefully we can finally have a good sibling bond. Love you Lil sis."

- draco

You smile and immediately start a letter back, excited to tell your soon to be husband of the letter you recieved when he returns from work.

This is the happy ending you'd always dreamed of, and you are more than grateful to finally be living in it.

[st4rlvr]

Forced together || KSM

There was nothing more infuriating than Kim Seungmin’s voice.

It was the way he always had something to say, dripping with sarcasm, every word calculated to get under my skin. He didn’t even have to try hard. All it took was that little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, like he knew exactly how much I despised him, and it fueled him even more.

And unfortunately, he was everywhere.

In class, he was the one who always had the answer to the teacher’s question before anyone else could. During group projects, he was the one who refused to compromise, arguing with me until I wanted to scream. And now, to make matters worse, he was assigned as my partner for the dreaded school charity event.

“How unlucky can I get?” I muttered as I stared at the assignment sheet taped to the classroom wall.

“You mean lucky,” Seungmin’s voice chimed in behind me. “You get to work with me. I’m practically the backbone of this event.”

I turned to glare at him, my jaw tightening. “More like the thorn in its side.”

His smirk widened. “Nice one, Y/N. Did you rehearse that in the mirror this morning?”

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that starting a public argument wasn’t worth it. “Just stay out of my way,” I snapped, brushing past him.

“Not likely,” he called after me, his tone light and teasing.

Forced proximity, as it turned out, really was a writer’s favorite tool. For the next few weeks, Seungmin and I were glued at the hip, planning decorations, organizing volunteers, and managing donations. Every little interaction felt like a battle.

“Those posters are awful,” Seungmin said, leaning over my shoulder as I sketched out a design.

I turned to glare at him, clutching my marker like a weapon. “They’re fine.”

“They’re boring.”

“They’re professional.”

“They’re basic.”

“They’re effective,” I countered, gritting my teeth.

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied my work. “Fine. If you want the charity to look like it was organized by an accounting firm, go ahead.”

I wanted to throw the marker at him. Instead, I handed it to him. “If you’re so great, why don’t you show me your brilliant ideas?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow but took the marker, crouching down to the poster. His hand moved quickly, sketching out bold, dynamic lines. I hated to admit it, but the design was… good.

“See?” he said smugly, stepping back. “I told you. Artistic genius.”

“More like annoying perfectionist,” I muttered, but I left the design as it was.

Despite how much we fought, we occasionally found ourselves in sync. One day, as we set up the donation booth, Seungmin handed me a stack of flyers without me asking. Another day, I caught him fixing the garland I’d hung when it started to sag.

It was a rhythm neither of us acknowledged out loud, but I could feel it. The banter turned into something less heated, almost playful.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said one afternoon as we stuffed envelopes.

“What?” I replied warily, glancing at him.

He smirked, holding up one of the letters. “You spelled ‘donation�� wrong. Twice.”

I snatched the envelope out of his hand, heat rushing to my cheeks. “I did not.”

“You did,” he insisted, laughing. “Don’t worry. I fixed it. You’re welcome.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

It wasn’t until the night of the event that everything changed.

The gymnasium was packed with people, the decorations twinkling under the soft lights. I stood by the punch table, surveying the crowd and feeling an odd sense of pride. Everything had come together perfectly.

“You’re staring like you just won an award,” Seungmin’s voice came from beside me.

I turned to him, startled. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be off bragging to someone about how great this all looks.”

He shrugged, his expression unusually serious. “Maybe I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “I’m… fine. Why?”

“You’ve been running yourself ragged for weeks,” he said, his gaze steady. “You should take a break.”

The sincerity in his voice threw me completely off balance. “Are you… being nice to me?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said with a small smirk, but there was something softer in his eyes.

Before I could respond, someone called his name, and he walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart inexplicably pounding.

The next day, Seungmin was back to his usual self—teasing, sarcastic, and insufferable. But I couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d looked at me during the event, the way his voice had softened just slightly.

It wasn’t until we were packing up the leftover supplies that I finally confronted him.

“Why do you do it?” I asked, crossing my arms as I stood in front of him.

“Do what?” he replied, not looking up from the box he was taping shut.

“Push my buttons. Constantly.”

He paused, his hands stilling. Then he straightened, meeting my gaze. “Maybe because I like seeing how much fight you’ve got in you.”

I stared at him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

Seungmin stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You’re not like everyone else. You don’t just roll over and let people tell you what to do. You challenge me. And, as much as I hate to admit it…” He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “I kind of like it.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Are you… complimenting me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible, Kim Seungmin.”

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, his tone light but his gaze steady.

I didn’t have an answer to that.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as insufferable as I thought.

And so, the lines between love and hate blurred, leaving us in a place neither of us could quite define. But one thing was certain: life was a lot less boring with Seungmin around.

[firsttimewriter92]

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 2; Part 3; Part 4

Description: You´ve just moved in a couple of weeks ago, trying for a new start. A brief encounter with your neighbor gets your endorphins and imagination going. What is it about the mask?

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, a little pining

Word count: 1.917

A/N: Hi everyone <3 This is my very first Simon Riley x reader fic. I´ve written about several characters of CoD but Ghost was always kind of an enigma to me. I never knew how to make him the love interest. But and idea popped into my head after reading some characterization that made it much easier to write for him. So here you go :) Let me know if a part 2 is something you´d be interested in.

“Jesus fucking Christ” you swore as you tried your best to push your heavy apartment door open and balance your bag and groceries through the door. It was a struggle to say the least, but you were damned if you did second trips. Grumbling through your teeth you saw no other possibility than setting down your bag, holding the door open with your foot and grabbing your groceries a little more securely. Bending your knee, you gave your door a forceful push and slid through into your small hallway. Foregoing taking off your shoes you made your way into your open kitchen and set the heavy paper bags down on your kitchen island.

A sigh escaped you and you took a moment just to stand in your kitchen and take in the chaos around you. Half emptied moving boxes were strewn all around your living room, amidst not yet hanging shelves, plastic plants and several DIY projects. Another sigh left your lungs with a huff. Moving and starting anew had seemed like your only option a couple of weeks ago but now you dreaded the silence. You wanted this, ___, you thought. It was your decision.

Your new job was everything you ever hoped for, and training turned out to be smooth sailing. You loved it, you loved your apartment, even though it was far from being finished yet. But still, what you´d left behind still lingered in the back of your brain all too clearly at times. Especially when your heavy door closed behind you every evening and there was nothing but you, your DIY projects, an occasional phone call with your parents and then silence. Silence to wallow in, rake your brain and memories. Memories not even a good Podcast or music were able to drown out.

You weren´t as close with your colleagues yet as to be invited out to the pub after work but that was to be expected. The chances were good though. Maybe just a couple of days more and you´d have at least some kind of social interaction. One step after the other, you reminded yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Your own impatience with yourself was yet again trying to make you feel like you´d made a mistake by moving. A humorless laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. Calm down, you thought. This is your life, your pace. Relax.

A couple of minutes later your food was stored away, veggies and salmon steaming away and finally you sat down on your couch, glass of wine in hand and Netflix on your TV.

“Bloody hell” you cursed as a shot of adrenalin set your brain into overdrive. Your bag. You jumped off your couch and hurried over to the door. Swinging it open with a yank you initially thought someone had put out the lights in the corridor. All you saw was black and not a second later you collided with something solid.

Shaking your head, you realized three things. It was 7 o´clock on a warm day in July, so it couldn’t be dark out already. Your hallway had several windows and yes, the sun was still out. The black wall you just ran into turned out to be a massive chest.

Heat was ascending your neck as you took a small step back and lifted your head to look at the face this quite impressive physique belonged to. What the…?

Before you stood a man, several inches taller than you, frozen in place with his arm lifted as if he was just about to knock on your door. He looked down on you with impressive, hazel eyes. Honey blond, tousled hair adorned his head, falling slightly onto his forehead, wet tips clinging to his temples and a bead of sweat disappearing behind his ear. But that was about all you could make out.

Seeing people wearing a facemask had of course not been an unusual sight for the last three years but he wasn´t wearing one of those surgical ones. His nose, mouth and chin were covered in thick, black material, even spanning over his cheekbones and disappearing behind his ears. When your eyes caught his again you saw them narrowing just slightly and one blond eyebrow ticking upwards.

Something wriggly moved inside your belly.

The man slowly lowered his arm, simultaneously lifting the other slightly, holding out your bag.

“This yours?” a deep, calm voice broke through the silence and the wriggly something inside you spread out towards your chest, down your arms and into your fingertips. You swallowed, trying to gather your wits again.

“Uhm…yes. Yes, that´s mine. Forgot about it” you said with a nervous laugh as you took it from him. He hummed deep inside his chest in understanding. The sound only letting your eyes snap onto his again trying to decipher if the squinting was an annoyed one or an amused one.

Amused, as it turns out. He took a deep breath, the black material of his running shirt as you now realized it was, stretching across the expanse of his chest.

“You know, that´s how you get your identity stolen. Or at least your wallet.” Yeah, there was no question now, he was grinning behind his mask, his tone mildly rebuking but not at all belittling.

A small smirk of your own crawled onto your lips as you cocked out your hip and nodded your head.

“You´re absolutely right, Sir. I´ll cuff my bag to my wrist from now on so this inconvenience shall not occur to you a second time.” You want to be cocky, mister? Fine with me.

Your answer made him chuckle. It was short but genuine. One hand in his pocket he stepped back slightly and only now did you notice the heat that his body had emitted. With one last narrow of his eyes, making the edges crinkle ever so slightly he answered. “Not an inconvenience, Miss. Have a good evening.” He nodded once and walked away to your right.

“Y-you too” you cursed the way your words tumbled. To your surprise he halted in front of the door next to yours and your heart jumped into your throat as he took out his keys. Your eyes still fixed onto his side profile (you still couldn’t really make out any features), he gave you one last look before opening his door.

“And thank you” you rushed out.

He only lifted one hand to give you a small little wave that seemed way too juvenile for a man of his stature and closed his door.

Kind of shellshocked you turned around yourself and let your door fall shut behind you. Clutching onto your bag you didn’t even notice how long you were just standing in your hallway, trying to sort out the wriggling nerves. Who was that? Idiot. Your neighbor. Your neighbor that you´d never seen before. A man like him you´d remember seeing. There´d never been any noise from the apartment next to yours so you just thought it was either a very quiet tenant or one that only went there to sleep.

Sitting down on your couch again you stared at the wall behind your TV. He was behind that wall, doing…things. Existing. Why did that feel so exciting to you? Maybe it was just because that´d been your first real social interaction apart from talking to your colleagues?

Laughing incredulously at yourself you buried your burning face in your hands and giggled. No. No that wasn’t it and you knew it. It was stupid. So very stupid and weird and nerdy and…that damn mask!!

“Whhhyyyy…..?” you moaned grinning and rubbed your temples, finally letting all the pent up adrenalin and endorphins rush through your blood stream unstopped. What was it about men wearing those damn masks? Not being able to fully see their face. Having to find out what there was to them by just their actions.

The fist time you really thought you´d lost your mind was when you actually developed a burning crush on a literal tin can from the Star Wars universe. Oh yeah, sure. Give me a brooding, sarcastic, overworked loner with PTSD and give him a freaking child to protect. Watch him become a devoted, loving single parent. Of course! Yes, let me thirst after him. And did it stop there? Of course not. The pandemic hit and the lockdown had everyone in a chokehold.

The only chokehold you wanted to be in at the time however was one carried out by a video game character called Ghoul from “Call of Obligation”. Tatted up, burly, sharp, dutiful, loyal and fucking hot.

The only thing you were able to see of him? His eyes. Just his eyes and an occasional forearm here and there. Everything else covered in tactical gear and a scary facemask. God that character haunted your dreams almost every night. And now, you had his existing, breathing, heat emitting, real human equivalent living next to you. You felt your insides burn as another funny noise came from your mouth. There had to be something wrong with you. Why was half a visible face or even less, so damn attractive to you?

“Shit must be some kind of kink” you murmured to yourself as you reached for your wine glass.

Why was he wearing that mask anyway? People weren´t obligated to wear one anymore. Was it some kind of training technique while running?

Anyhow, you appreciated the encounter. Your mood instantly better even though the both of you hadn’t talked much at all. He seemed witty. Cocky almost and you liked that.

Emptying your wine, you put the glass back in the dishwasher and walked over to your bathroom when you heard it. The shower in the next apartment was running. Immediately you halted all movement and tried to not even breath. The situation seemed so delicate, like thin glass ready to break. You stared at the wall when something else caught your ears.

No. Did you hear this right? Was he…?

You walked carefully over to your shower and stepped in. Trying not to care about how crazy you must look at this moment, you turned your head to the wall slightly, closed your eyes and listened as hard as you could. There it was.

Low, melodic and absolutely captivating. Over the sound of the water hitting the tile you heard your neighbor singing. Your forehead hit the tile and you breathed as quietly as possible, marveling in the baritone sweetness that could be heard through the wall. All too soon, about a minute later it was over. The water was shut off, the singing stopped.

As if in trance you got your nighttime routine going and a couple minutes later, slid into bed. Knowing where his bathroom was now, you were positive that his bedroom had to be next to yours as well. You tried to hear more, but nothing else penetrated the walls. It made you glad actually. If you would be able to hear him in his bedroom, sleep would turn out to be an impossibility to achieve.

This way, you closed your eyes, got comfortable and let your thoughts drift and wander. Not long after, you were dead asleep. Your dreams yet again haunted, but now, the usual scary mask of Ghoul was replaced with a solid black one and instead of clawing at a fully clothed head between your legs, your fingers tangled into soft honey blond curls.

_____________________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

[sonotkari]

On Top

Mo Jihye x Fem Reader

[ Synopsis ]

Jihye loves saving her favorites for last, and the strawberry on top of her shortcake was not an exception.

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

1.2k berry berry short

[ a/n ]

Yes I said I was gonna be on hiatus but ended up finishing this draft that's been collecting dust TT it's been a while since I actually did not run away from my drafts and the typical "written in a short period" so heads up (why do I always give heads up these days... oh well) See you guys, never /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

To sweet souls who love strawberries, dis for u bae <3

Jihye took a bite of her strawberry shortcake with a satisfied hum, a small smile appearing in sight as you too, followed and took a piece of your chocolate cake, savoring the sweet taste spreading, satisfying your taste buds.

What felt like a forever-lasting week had finally come to an end, and you and Jihye had both been on a tight schedule for so long now, making it hard to find the time to spend some quality time together.

Upcoming tasks and projects every 2 days, and Jihye starting her part-time job at the newly opened cafe by your apartment, made it hard for you to match both timings.

When you were back from uni, Jihye was already off to work, and by the time she was home, you'd be already in your dreams. When Jihye woke up, you were already off to uni, and by the time you got home, she was off to work and it felt like a never-ending saga.

So it still feels almost unreal that you and Jihye were sitting comfortably at the corner of a small cafe, cakes, and cups of hot lattes served in front of two while chattering your hearts out, catching up on the things you had missed.

"Do you eat it first, or save it for last?"

You gazed up to see your girlfriend grinning at you as she let the fork sink in and cut a piece of the cake on her plate.

"Hm?? What are you referring to, Ji?"

"The strawberry on top, silly" 

Your eyes shifted at the big red strawberry placed perfectly on Jihye's shortcake. You then remember a funny little memory of how you committed a bit of a harmless crime by stealing one of Jihye's strawberries back in high school, where the girl would drag you out to every cafe to "investigate" which had the most scrumptious cake in town.

Somehow, you were never fond of strawberry shortcakes. The cream was kinda too sweet, maybe even kinda mushy...? Not knowing specifically why you never got fond of the cake, you wouldn't even try and order it for yourself unless someone insists on giving you a piece.

But Jihye's strawberry shortcake?

The urge to see how she'd look shocked after taking that big red strawberry and how she'd pout like a half-crying puppy was just coming and you couldn't help but swiftly stab the poor berry and quickly take a bite while looking at Jihye, a wicked teasing smile creeping across your face as you do so.

It sank in well that you committed one heavy crime as soon as you saw her actually pout like a lost puppy who just got dumped in the streets. One typical story, but oh why you look at her face. As much as you found it adorable, it was heart-wrenching at the same time.

But it all soon wrapped up well at the end when Jihye had hummed happily, diddle daddling her way out of the cafe with the small white box in her hand, another perfect shortcake sitting inside which you bought for her to pay for the sin you just committed a while ago. 

Recreating that same teasing smile, you raised your fork from the chocolate cake and smirked at Jihye. 

"Is that an invitation?" 

"Ah-" 

Slowly pulling her plate closer, Jihye looked at you with a side longing stare before the both of you burst out giggles and chuckles. You endearingly took glances at your girlfriend happily munching her cake, trying to avoid the center where the so-called "perfect strawberry" was sitting.

Jihye had always saved her strawberry for last, every time she would have a shortcake. It doesn't only apply to that but mostly everything she eats, she saves favorites for last. 

"Saving it for last makes the happy feeling last longer" 

Just like a catchphrase, you remembered how Jihye used to always say that phrase every time you both would go eat, and you were there looking at the girl with her lips curved into a big big smile while savoring the last bit of her food.

As much as the girl was always good with her appetite for food, making it was also one of a million things she had skills with. 

==========

That one time when Jihye had a pretty high fever and felt too unwell to do things, you stepped in for her and did the work around the house. You were capable of what you needed to do to take care of your poor sick girlfriend. Except for one small thing. 

Cooking. 

Your cooking method never changed since you started learning back when you were little.

No instructions, no recipe to follow, no measuring of any sort of kind, just imagination. 

So it wasn't surprising when Jihye woke up to go and get a refill of water in her glass and saw you rushing here and there to the kitchen with a not-so-tidy table and sizzling noise coming from the pot (which is the not-good way of a sizzling sound) 

"You doin' good there Y/nnie??"

"Oh- uhm, hi Ji...!!" 

"Did your "imagination cooking tactics" not work this time??" 

You were trying to make her a rice porridge and in some way (which Jihye will never know where, how, or why) you failed to do so. So now it was her turn to step in and do the mixing and stirring while you were by her side looking a bit guilty that you made Jihye do all that while she was sick.

"I'm not wife material at all" 

"uh- what??" 

A soft chuckle couldn't be helped to escape Jihye's lips seeing you sigh as you repeated your words. 

"Y/n, you literally did everything you could for me today. If it wasn't for you I think I wouldn't even be here standing" 

Jihye says so and takes a spoonful of hot rice porridge, giving it a few blows before carrying the spoon by your mouth as you gladly open up to taste the best porridge you've ever tasted (even this to was meant for Jihye herself) and at the same time wondering how that mess you made a while ago turned into this five star Michelin. 

"Besides" 

She murmurs, gently wiping off the corner of your mouth before smiling softly again. 

"You're wife material to me and that's all that matters, no?"

==========

After some time of recalling nostalgic memories, you look up to see Jihye having her last bite of the cake, but one thing on her plate catches your eye.

"Really saving it for the very last huh??" 

After Jihye took a bite, she looked down at the neatly preserved strawberry before smiling. 

"Mhm. Saving it for last makes the happy feeling last longer"

She says so and takes the strawberry with her fork. But unexpectedly, she held out the fork in front of you. Taking turns looking at Jihye and the strawberry right in front of you confusingly, Jihye giggled at your questioning state before she spoke up.

"Giving my happiness to my dear girlfriend"

"Oh? I thought that was your most prized possession tho??"

You teasingly smirked a bit before outing a chuckle.

"Well, I guess I just love you so so much. So much more than the strawberry on top"

Somehow, you were never fond of strawberry shortcakes. But Jihye's strawberry shortcake? Specifically, the strawberry on top? Well, that might be your favorite one in the whole wide world. 

I act. made a rice porridge and ate it while writing this lmao

[estapa-edwards]

UNEXPECTED - R. MCGROARTY

paring: rutger mcgroarty x fem! reader

word count:3k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n.

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I never thought I'd find myself in this situation. Of all the people in the University of Michigan, why did it have to be Rutger McGroarty? I mean, the guy was a hockey legend, scoring goals left and right on the ice and having his face plastered all over campus posters. But off the ice? Let's just say, we were like oil and water.

It all started in Professor Williams' Advanced Statistics class. We were assigned a semester-long project that would contribute a significant portion to our final grades. The catch? We had to work in pairs, and Professor Williams, in his infinite wisdom, decided to pair me up with Rutger. Great.

I slumped in my seat, trying to disappear into the lecture hall's worn-out upholstery as Professor Williams announced the pairings. When he finally called out, "Y/N and Rutger McGroarty," I felt like the entire room turned to look at me, probably to see my reaction. And what was my reaction? Pure dread.

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The first meeting was a disaster. Rutger strolled in wearing his Michigan hockey team jacket, a smug grin plastered on his face as he tossed his bag onto the table. "So, statistics, huh? Should be easy," he remarked, barely looking at the project guidelines I had painstakingly printed out.

I shot him a skeptical look. "Easy for you, maybe. I'm not exactly a math whiz."

He chuckled, "Don't worry, I'll handle the numbers. You can handle... whatever it is you're good at."

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

As the weeks passed, our project meetings evolved into something entirely unexpected. Rather than focusing solely on statistics and data analysis, our time together became a battleground of differing opinions and clashing personalities. Rutger, with his competitive spirit, always seemed eager to take the lead, often making decisions without even glancing in my direction.

One evening, as we were deep in discussion about our data collection methods, Rutger leaned over the table, his eyes locked onto mine with a mischievous glint. "You know, Y/N," he said, a playful smirk playing on his lips, "I think we should use my method. After all, it's tried and tested."

I raised an eyebrow, not amused by his arrogance. "And what about my method? Have you even considered it?"

He chuckled softly, leaning even closer, his voice low and flirty, "Teamwork? I thought you were just here to witness my brilliance."

I groaned internally, rolling my eyes at his audacity. How had I ended up with such an arrogant project partner?

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During another one of our study sessions, tensions reached a boiling point. We were deep in a heated debate about the interpretation of our data, and Rutger's competitive nature was once again on full display. He suddenly stood up, towering over me with his imposing hockey player physique, making the small study room feel even more cramped.

"I still think my approach is better," he declared, his tone dripping with confidence and assertiveness.

I let out a deep sigh, trying to keep my frustration in check. "Rutger, can you please just listen to what I'm saying? This is a group project, remember? We're supposed to work together, not against each other."

He smirked, his eyes locking onto mine as he leaned down to my level, his face mere inches from mine. The audacity of his flirty demeanor in the midst of our disagreement only added to my irritation.

"Oh, I'm listening, Y/N," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I'm just waiting for you to see things my way."

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I pushed my chair back, creating some much-needed distance between us. "Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head in exasperation.

Rutger leaned against the table, his smirk never wavering. "Come on, Y/N," he coaxed, his tone playful, "Admit it, you're starting to see the brilliance of my ideas, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach caused by his relentless flirting. "Rutger, this isn't a game. We need to work together and find a solution that we both agree on."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright, alright, I'll try to be more open-minded," he conceded, though the playful glint in his eyes suggested he was far from giving up on his competitive stance.

​​As we continued to work on our project, Rutger suddenly changed the subject, "Hey, Y/N, are you free this Friday night?"

Caught off guard by the sudden change in topic, I looked up from my notes, "Um, yeah, why?"

Rutger's smirk returned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Great! How about coming to one of my hockey games? It's a big one, and I'd love for you to be there."

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by his invitation. "I... I don't know, Rutger. I'm not really into hockey."

Rutger leaned in closer, his flirty demeanor returning full force. "Come on, it'll be fun! Plus, you get to see me in action. Who knows, you might even become a fan."

Despite my reservations, I couldn't help but feel intrigued. Rutger's passion for hockey was evident, and the idea of seeing him play, seeing a different side of him outside of our intense study sessions, was tempting.

"Alright," I finally conceded, a small smile playing on my lips, "I'll come to your game."

Rutger's face lit up with a triumphant grin. "Great! You won't regret it, I promise."

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The rest of the week flew by, and before I knew it, Friday night had arrived. I found myself at the university's ice rink, surrounded by enthusiastic fans wearing Michigan's colors and cheering for the team. The atmosphere was electric, with the excitement palpable in the air.

As the players took to the ice for warm-ups, I spotted Rutger, effortlessly gliding across the rink, his focus and determination evident. I had to admit, seeing him in his element was impressive. His skill and passion for the game were undeniable, and I found myself getting caught up in the excitement of the atmosphere.

Just as the game was about to begin, Rutger glanced up and spotted me in the stands. A wide smile spread across his face, and he waved enthusiastically in my direction. I waved back, feeling a warm flush of pride at his acknowledgment. It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot to me.

My friends, who had accompanied me to the game, noticed Rutger's friendly wave and looked at me with surprise. "Wait, did Rutger just smile and wave at you?" one of them asked, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

I chuckled, nodding in response. "Yeah, I guess he did. He asked me to come tonight." 

My friends exchanged amused glances, clearly intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. "Wow, Y/N," another friend teased, "I didn't know you and Rutger had become so chummy. What's next, joining the hockey fan club?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes at their playful teasing. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't even like him like that." 

My friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly amused by my defensive response. "We never said you liked him like that," one of them teased with a smirk.

I felt my cheeks heat up, realizing I might have been a bit too quick to clarify. "Well, I just meant... you know," I stammered, trying to find the right words. "He's a good teammate and all, but it's not like that between us."

Another friend chuckled, nudging me playfully. "Sure, sure, Y/N. Whatever you say. But we saw that smile on your face when he waved at you. Admit it, you enjoyed being his special guest at the game tonight."

I rolled my eyes again, but this time with a smile. "Okay, okay, maybe I had more fun than I expected. But that doesn't mean anything's changed between us. We're still just project partners."

My friends laughed, clearly unconvinced by my attempts to downplay the evening's significance. "Alright, Y/N," one of them said, holding up their hands in mock surrender. "We'll let you off the hook for now. But don't be surprised if we start seeing you at more hockey games in the future."

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After the game, as I waited for Rutger outside the locker room, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected experience. Despite our rocky start and the constant challenges we faced during our project, I had gained a newfound appreciation for Rutger and his passion for hockey.

When Rutger finally emerged from the locker room, still in his gear but looking exhilarated, he flashed me a wide grin. "So, what did you think?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

I smiled back, genuinely impressed. "You were amazing, Rutger. I never realized how exciting hockey could be."

His grin widened, his eyes shining with happiness. "Told you, you might become a fan."

As Rutger and I began to walk away from the locker room, we were approached by two of his teammates, Ethan and Mark, both still in their Michigan hockey gear. They wore playful grins, clearly having spotted our interaction earlier.

"Hey, Rutger," Ethan began with a teasing tone, nudging Mark with his elbow. "Is this your girlfriend?"

Mark joined in on the joke, winking at me. "Yeah, Rutger, you didn't tell us you were bringing your special someone to the game tonight."

Rutger chuckled, rolling his eyes at his teammates' antics but not seeming entirely surprised by their teasing. "Very funny, guys," he said, his tone light and amused. He glanced over at me, offering a reassuring smile. "Ignore them, Y/N. They just can't resist a good joke."

I laughed, brushing off the playful teasing with a wave of my hand. "Don't worry, I'm not taking it seriously. But thanks for inviting me tonight, Rutger. I had a great time."

Ethan and Mark exchanged knowing glances, their grins widening. "Anytime, Y/N," Ethan said with a teasing tone. "You're always welcome to come and cheer for us... and for Rutger, of course."

Mark nodded in agreement, his playful demeanor still intact. "Yeah, maybe next time we'll even get you to wear a Michigan jersey... with Rutger's number on it."

I chuckled, shaking my head at their persistent teasing. "We'll see about that," I replied, glancing over at Rutger, who was still smiling despite his teammates' antics.

As we continued to walk towards the exit, Rutger's playful demeanor returned. "I hope they weren't too much for you," he said, his tone light.

I shrugged, smiling back at him. "They're just having some fun. I can handle a little teasing."

Rutger grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Good to know. And thanks again for coming tonight, Y/N. I'm glad you enjoyed the game."

I nodded, feeling genuinely grateful for the unexpected experience. "Me too, Rutger. It was a great game, and you played exceptionally well."

His smile widened, and for a moment, the playful, competitive edge that had defined so much of our project seemed to fade away, replaced by a genuine warmth and camaraderie.

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The day had finally arrived to wrap up our project, and Rutger and I found ourselves in the university library, huddled over our laptops and notes. The tension in the room was undenible, not just from the looming deadline, but also from the lingering awkwardness between us.

As we worked on the final touches, I noticed Rutger's eyes drifting from his laptop to me more than a few times. Each time our eyes met, he quickly looked away, but I couldn't help but feel his gaze on me.

"Is everything okay, Rutger?" I finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

Rutger looked up, seeming caught off guard by my question. "Uh, yeah, sorry about that," he stammered, running a hand through his hair. "I was just thinking about the project, that's all."

I raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by his explanation. "You seem distracted. Are you sure there's nothing else on your mind?"

Rutger hesitated, his gaze meeting mine once again. This time, he didn't look away immediately, and I could see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Honestly, Y/N," he began, his voice softer than usual, "I've been meaning to say something."

I felt my heart skip a beat, curious and slightly apprehensive about what he was about to say. "Go on," I urged, setting aside my work to give him my full attention.

Rutger took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. "I just wanted to say thank you," he said, his tone sincere. "Despite our differences and the challenges we've faced, you've stuck by me and put in the effort to make this project a success. I really appreciate it."

I was taken aback by his honesty, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "You're welcome, Rutger," I replied, smiling genuinely at him. "Despite our disagreements, I think we made a pretty good team in the end."

Rutger grinned, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, we did," he agreed, his gaze lingering on me a moment longer than necessary. "And for the record," he added, his tone teasing, "I wasn't just staring at you because you're distracting. I was also trying to figure out how to ask you out after we finish this project."

I chuckled, caught off guard by his candidness but also intrigued by his confession. "Oh, really?" I responded, raising an eyebrow playfully. "And here I thought you were just lost in thought about the project."

Rutger laughed, his grin widening as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, the project was definitely on my mind, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also thinking about what comes next."

I felt a warmth spread through me, a mix of surprise and excitement at his bold admission. "Well, now that the project is done," I replied, my voice tinged with amusement, "I guess you have your answer, don't you?"

His eyes met mine, the playful glint replaced by something softer, more genuine. "I do," he said, his voice low and sincere. "So, what do you say, Y/N? Would you like to go out with me?"

I smiled, feeling a sense of anticipation and curiosity about where this unexpected connection might lead. "I'd like that, Rutger," I answered, my own voice softening.

Rutger's smile was infectious, his eyes shining with happiness as he stood up, extending a hand towards me. "Great," he said, his tone light but sincere. "How about dinner tomorrow night? We can celebrate our successful project and whatever this is."

I accepted his hand, standing up to meet his gaze. "Dinner sounds perfect," I replied, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of getting to know Rutger beyond the confines of our project.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

I sat across from Rutger at a quaint French bistro nestled in the heart of downtown Ann Arbor. The restaurant had a warm and intimate atmosphere, with soft lighting, rustic wooden tables, and a hint of romantic charm in the air. It was our first official date since wrapping up our project, and I was both nervous and excited.

Rutger was in the middle of sharing a funny anecdote from one of his hockey games when the door to the bistro opened, and in walked Ethan and Mark. My heart sank as I saw them, and I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Of all the restaurants in Ann Arbor, they had to walk into the one where Rutger and I were having our date?

Ethan and Mark spotted us almost immediately and made their way over, their grins widening as they approached our table. Rutger looked up, clearly surprised to see his teammates, but his expression quickly turned amused as he saw Ethan and Mark's cheeky smiles.

"Hey, Rutger," Ethan began with a teasing tone, leaning against the back of an empty chair at our table. "Fancy seeing you here."

Mark chimed in, winking at me, "And with Y/N, no less. Who would've thought?"

Rutger chuckled, clearly unfazed by his teammates' interruption. "What are you guys doing here?"

Ethan shrugged, still grinning. "We knew you two would finally get together. Just wanted to see it with our own eyes."

I felt my cheeks grow even hotter, wishing the floor would swallow me up. Rutger, however, seemed to find the situation amusing.

"Alright, alright," Rutger said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "You've had your fun. Now, give us some space, will you?"

Mark chuckled, raising his hands in mock defense. "Alright, alright. We'll leave you two lovebirds alone. But remember, Rutger, you owe us for this."

Ethan nodded in agreement, pointing a finger at Rutger. "Yeah, don't forget it."

With one last round of playful teasing and laughter, Ethan and Mark finally retreated, leaving Rutger and me at our table, slightly flustered but also laughing at the unexpected turn of events.

Rutger shook his head, grinning at me. "I'm sorry about that, Y/N. My teammates can be a bit... overbearing."

I chuckled, feeling more at ease now that the awkward encounter was behind us. "It's okay, Rutger. It was bound to happen eventually, right?"

He smiled, reaching across the table to take my hand. "Absolutely. And who knows, maybe we should thank them. Their little interruption broke the ice, so to speak."

I laughed, feeling grateful for Rutger's easygoing nature and his ability to turn a potentially awkward situation into a moment of shared laughter.

"Maybe you're right," I agreed, squeezing his hand in return. "After all, it wouldn't be a true Michigan experience without a little interference from your teammates."

Rutger grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Exactly. So, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me as I remembered the conversation we had been having before Ethan and Mark's unexpected arrival. "You were about to tell me about that overtime goal you scored last week."

Rutger's face lit up, and as he launched back into his story, I found myself once again captivated by his passion for hockey and his infectious enthusiasm. Despite the awkward interruption, our date was turning out to be more enjoyable than I had anticipated, and I was grateful for the unexpected twist that had made our evening even more memorable.

[willcmsv]

Soft Launch - Alain Laubrac x Fem Reader (ENG)

The story that follows is in English for my English Voltaire High's fans, French version is posted there!

Requested by @babydeersblog

Synopsis: You and Alain got to know each other at the beginning of the year, and were involved in a number of group projects, which helped your relationship to evolve over time. However, after being mocked when you confessed your feelings to a boy, you decided to keep them to yourself and no longer show any signs of love. But Alain unfortunately makes you feel something you'd like to find out more about.

Warnings: small changes compared to the series.

Notes: don't hesitate to recommend oneshot ideas - I write in English and French!

Since the beginning of the year, you and Alain have been exchanging words during your class hours. You have the habit of drawing him little drawings while he writes you quotes or jokes, depending on his mood. Since his fight with Joseph a few months ago, you have become Alain's sort of guardian angel, you prevent him from going off the rails and you defend him when you have the opportunity in front of Joseph and his friends.

However, for the past few weeks, Joseph can't help but tease you by pointing out how close you are and assuming that you love each other as if it were a game. But Joseph was like that. Everything was funny to him and everything was not serious.

When you come home on weekends, you have the right to participate to the private interrogation of your brother Jean-Pierre, as if Joseph's bogus questions weren't enough. For Jean-Pierre, you were and will always remain his little sister who he must cherish and protect. He stopped watching you grow up when you were nine.

“Who is Alain?” Jean-Pierre asked the second you set foot inside your house.

"A friend. Next question?" You answered.

Jean-Pierre frowned. For him, there's no way you're dating a boy. Simone had reminded him several times that you were seventeen and old enough to have a boyfriend, but he was stubborn and didn't want to know anything about the subject.

“Apparently no, that’s not what Joseph claims to say.”

"Joseph! Do you really believe him?! He's an idiot and he likes to start rumors about everything that moves. I thought you were more intelligent…" You affirmed, grabbing a glass which you carefully filled with water.

After your exchange with your brother, you headed to your room and discovered a letter left on your bed. It is signed A.L.

You immediately recognized the sender's writing and his sentences, which were always so original and captivating. You couldn't help but smile at each of his letters, at each of his words, of his actions. But although this should make you happy, on the contrary, it made you anxious.

Every night before going to sleep, you thought about what you really wanted. You had two choices presented to you: confess your feelings to him and risk being humiliated like before, or keep them a secret and perhaps lose the love of your life.

The love of your life, maybe that’s a big word.

On Monday morning, after leaving your home, you arrived at school a little early. You especially hoped to see Alain.

“Morning.” A male voice called out to you.

Without even turning around, you could recognize this voice among a hundred, even if it wasn't pleasant for you.

“Joseph, what else do you want from me?”

"What do I want from you? What do you want me instead.”

You raised your eyebrow, unconsciously glaring at Joseph.

"Even though the school doesn't know me by that name yet, I'm excited to introduce myself, Joseph the Cupid." He stooped down, miming a curtsy.

“Joseph the what?!” You giggled at this unpredictable news. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Do I look like it?”

My smile immediately faded from my face when I realized that indeed, he was completely serious. But Joseph, serious or not, is not someone you can trust.

“Go find another customer.” You responded, turning on your heel.

“Don’t you want to know what your dear Alain thinks of you?” A smirk formed on the blonde's lips.

“Not necessarily, and certainly not thanks to your help.” You declare.

"It's a shame, I know a lot about him and things that might interest you-" Joseph stopped in his sentence when Alain arrived.

“Are you okay Y/n? Joseph…” Alain gave Joseph a confused look. “We can already get ready for class, what do you think?”

You nodded and the two of them walked off into the hallways. Alain leaned against the wall.

“If Joseph bothers you, tell me.”

“It’s Joseph, he’s like that.” You declare.

Alain lowered his gaze, as if he was upset, and upset by what had just happened.

During the first class of the day, you couldn't help but glance at Alain who seemed so focused on the class. You were as focused on him as he was on his lesson that you didn't realize that his gaze was now turned towards you.

His blue eyes were locked on you. He didn’t even move when your gaze met his. Your cheeks suddenly took on a tint of pink while a smirk appeared on Alain's face.

At the end of class, you cross paths with Joseph again who begs you to accompany you home since you live near each other.

Alain, who was walking a few meters further, was able to see your silhouette and that of Joseph walking side by side. He couldn't help but feel jealous. Why did Joseph always have to be with you when he only dreamed of being in his place.

***

The next day, you and Alain had a science assignment to complete, an assignment that required you to work with him for an indefinite period of time. You were already looking forward to being with him, but strangely, you felt pressure, as if this was going to go badly.

You quickly walk towards the science room, seeing Alain who was already sitting on a chair at the back of the room.

"Am I late ?" You asked.

“We would rather say that I am early.” Alain smiles at you before pulling out a chair for you.

The work progressed more quickly than expected, both of them were focused, but took a few poses to discuss things more entertaining and fun than science classes.

“You and Joseph, is there…” Alain began.

You widened your eyes before answering.

“No, no! He’s just a friend, I’m not interested in him.” You hastened to answer.

Alain glanced at his notebook without saying a word, as if your answer didn't suit him.

His fingers held tightly to his pencil with which he was scribbling in the corner of his notebook.

Your eyes roamed his entire face, from his brown curls to the fine curves of his jaw.

“Are you okay?” You finally asked.

Alain’s eyes fixed on you once again. They moved down to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Although he didn't speak, his gaze revealed so much more.

Your heartbeat accelerated and your lips itched with the desire to kiss him.

His face slowly moved closer to yours, your heart almost skipped a beat.

"Working hard?" A male voice blurted out.

You and Alain turn around with a start before seeing Joseph in the doorway. He smiled playfully at you like he did that on purpose. And you were sure that was the case.

"I need to go, Y/n. We'll meet up again tomorrow." Alain packed his things and gave you a brief smile before leaving, lightly brushing against Joseph.

"You find it funny?!" You declare.

“I thought you weren’t interested?” A smirk appeared on Joseph's lips.

***

In the afternoon, you went to the infirmary to take some medicine to treat your uncontrollable stomach ache. Before you could put on your vest again, the door opened to reveal Alain.

"Hey..."

"I- I didn't think I'd see anyone here at this hour." He affirmed.

His nose was bleeding slightly and you could notice blood on his knuckles.

“Did you fight?” You asked directly.

He didn't answer, his lips pursed and he looked away. Sometimes silence is louder than words.

You wet a cotton ball before gently grabbing his hand to disinfect it.

“It wasn’t me…I didn’t start it.” He whispered.

“It’s too simple to say that every time, Alain.”

He breathed in and out a silent 'yes' and gritted his teeth as you pressed against his wound.

The closeness between the two of you allowed you to hear his heartbeat and feel his gaze on you as you carefully disinfected his wound.

Placing the cotton on the table next to you, you felt Alain's still hand lightly brush against your thigh as you moved.

You bit your lip to hide your concern. Each of his movements, his looks or his words always gave you a feeling that was impossible to describe.

It had become more and more complicated for you to accept your feelings without always imagining the worst. However, you wanted things to work with Alain. You always felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him smiling at you in the yard, or when he hid letters in your bag. Not to mention the times you could cross his path, like in the infirmary for example.

Everything led you to him and you felt something different, something captivating.

***

The next day, after classes ended, Alain invited you for a walk around town. At first, you walked in silence. Your interactions with him were never this awkward, and the mood was almost heavy right now.

“Sorry about yesterday…”

Alain turned his head, almost surprised that you apologized.

"It's not your fault." He answered briefly.

You bit your lip, you didn't know how to make the mood more joyful or even less morbid.

“Joseph is-” You start before being interrupted by Alain.

“It's still Joseph, Y/n. Except that Joseph takes great pleasure in bothering you, I notice that very well. You need to ignore him, because he's not going to stop so quickly. So make him stop, or I'll take care of it myself."

When he finished speaking, you couldn’t help but slip a short ‘no’ out of your mouth. You didn't want them to lash out like always.

You grab his arm to push him slightly towards you. Either you waited and perhaps risked the situation degenerating or ending differently than expected, or you took your courage in both hands.

Alain looked at you again with a look filled with desire. You didn’t know what exactly that look meant, but as much as you didn’t want to start imagining things, it wasn’t friendly in any way.

“I would like to have you to myself for once… to be able to act without someone cutting me off every time…” Alain affirmed.

You arrive in a small alley. You walked slower and slower, your bodies getting closer together as you went, until your hands brushed against each other several times.

Your two gazes met when you felt the other's hand. Alain walked in front of you and suddenly stopped, which led to you stopping too.

"Y/n, I wish you were more confident, you're pretty and smart. Don't hide or let anyone walk all over you."

Your eyebrows raised when you heard his words. Your cheeks immediately turned red despite the fact that you tried to hide them.

Alain slowly leaned towards you, his hand reaching out towards your arm. He didn't dare put it elsewhere and was mainly waiting for a response from you before doing so. His eyes lowered to your lips again. However, this time he didn't look away. Despite the hesitation, he finally placed his lips on yours and you immediately kissed back. His soft lips pressed against yours and moved in lockstep with yours.

A few seconds later, you both pulled your faces back and looked into each other's eyes before Alain gave you a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t have thought of doing that here… but it’s even better.” He smiled and finally placed a hand on your waist.

You were overcome by emotions and reached his lips again to kiss him. He pressed firmly on your waist at the same time as his lips pressed into yours.

His warm breath blew against your skin, and you felt it slowly speed up.

You felt his lips forming a smile against yours, and you couldn't help but smile back.

Once again, you felt a fluttering sensation in your stomach. His hand tenderly caressing your waist and the movements of your lips against each other only made you feel worse.

However, what you couldn't have known was that on Alain's side, tons of emotions and sensations were also invading his body and making his heart palpitate in rhythm with the beating of yours.

1758 words.

[lillaydee]

One Heart Part 12

Sheriff Joel Miller / Reader

Trying and failing miserably to recover from an inconceivable loss, you accepted your best friend's invite to spend time with her and her family for a summer, hoping for a chance at a new beginning. Little did you know that the new beginning you were stepping into was a little too close to home.

WARNING:

Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Grief/Mourning, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Ellie is mentioned, Sheriff Joel, Sarah plays matchmaker, No age gap, Joel is in his 30s, Joel is Trying His Best (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Fluff and Angst.

SERIES MASTERLIST

PART 11

---

After two weeks, you went back to work. He drove you, of course, despite your many protests. It was useless at this point, anyway, since he was cleared to drive, annoyingly. You were sure there were threats involved in Santi’s decision to let him do that. He was not due to go back to work for another month, but he was restless, wanting to keep busy. He tried to improve your tiny house, and of course you had to threaten him with finding elsewhere to sleep if he so much as moved or fixed one item in the house. The men at the farm had to fend him off with sticks to stop him from lifting bales of hay for the horses. Omera started slamming the door in his face when he tried taking his restlessness to her furniture. Jenny straight up locked the door and took away his key when she caught him measuring her kitchen cabinetry.

And then one day he stopped. He stopped trying to help, seemingly found a project he was happy with, that apparently was given approval by Jenny, since Benny, Tommy and Will were helping him out, and doing the heavy lifting. She absolutely refused to tell you what it was, though, so you decided to shut up and stop asking. But he looked happier, lighter, a pep in his step, you might even say.

You found out what it was a couple of weeks later.

Jenny asked you to help her with one of the houses one Sunday. The tenant had just moved out and the house had been refurbished, but she could use your opinion on the kitchen layout before putting it back up for rental. Let’s go take a look at the house, shall we?

It was the three bedroomed house on the other side of the property. You had seen it before, of course, and had known the family that lived there. You knew that the father was a park ranger and had requested a transfer to be nearer to his parents, who were getting older. The house looked as if it had been spruced up. Painted, at the very least, and a small plot had been transformed into an area that was filled with planters – ideal for a small garden. The house was lovely. Not too big, and definitely nowhere near as small as yours. The whole house smelled of fresh paint, and it was clear that it had been refurbished. It looked like new. Normal, Jenny said, for every time a long-term tenant moved out.

Except, the kitchen was bare. No cabinetry, no stove. 

“What would a professional chef do with this kitchen, do you think? I know it’s not that big, but I could use your opinion,” she said.

“Well, I’m only a professional chef at the restaurant, and professional kitchens are too sterile for my liking.” You began telling her what would work, given the size and style of the place, as well as the layout of the kitchen and living room next to it. Where the stove would go, the sink, the fridge, inadvertently telling her what your dream kitchen for a place like this would be like, not that you would tell her that.

“And I would put a small island here, big enough to work on, and maybe have breakfast for a small family, but nothing too big, and it should be perfect. Won’t cost too much, and there would be plenty of space for storage,” you finished, picturing yourself being in the kitchen, a bit jealous of the new people living there.

“Would there be enough space to make out in there?” Joel’s voice asked, making you jump.

“Oh my God, you are such a pervert!” you joked, rolling your eyes, going to give him a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, asking you what you thought of the house. Apparently, him and his brothers had worked hard refurbishing the house. You were about to chastise him, but he put his hands up, promising that he only supervised, and did some painting.

“I like it, it’s kinda perfect. Especially for small families.”

“Isn’t it? I’ve always liked this house. I even thought, at one point, that I would bring Sarah to live here when she’s old enough. The last time this place was vacant she was still a baby, with how sick she was it wasn’t practical for me to live here with her.”

“I think she’d like that. You could put a swing in the back.”

“And she and Jello could have breakfast at the kitchen island? Do her homework on the dining table?”

“Oh, that would be so cute. I can just picture it.”

“Could you picture yourself living here with us?” his eyes were fixed on his feet, not daring to look at you.

“Maybe, one day.”

“How far away is one day? Cause my version of one day is as soon as we can get that kitchen you just described in and furnish this place.”

You were stunned.

“Will you move in with me and Sarah? Please? Start a life with me? It’s fast, I know, but…”

“Yes.”

“Yes? You’ll move in here with us?”

“Yes.”

He hugged you. Tight. Like he never wanted to let go. He took your lips in his, murmuring ‘I love you’ and ‘thank you’ over and over. He pinned you to the kitchen wall, eager to christen the house.

“Joel, your wound.”

“Fuck it. I need you,” he protested, before trying to lift you to get a better angle and winced, an involuntary hiss escaping his mouth.

“I told you! Are you okay?”

“Yeah… maybe we’ll wait until we’ve moved in before I do all the things I’ve been planning to do to you in here.”

God, please give you strength.

---

The three of you walked hand in hand through the headstones, the morning dew sticking to your feet. Before you were hundreds upon hundreds of headstones, varied in sizes and design, all in neat lines, some with flowers, some without, the grass well maintained, the sounds of the city somehow muted despite the cemetery being right next to it. You squeezed Joel’s hand, and he and Sarah hung back, while you walked on. You stopped at a large headstone, two names on it – the two people whose loss made you want to give up on life altogether.

Eric Williams 11th May 1985 – 21st November 2016 Beloved Husband and Father Ellie Williams 30th August 2014 – 26th November 2016 Beloved Daughter Angels Taken Too Soon Father and Daughter, Together Forever

You sat in front of the headstone, brushing your fingers over their names. You placed the flowers you brought in the vases, swiping errant leaves and sticks off the base.

“Hi Sweetheart, hi Jellybean,” you said, able to speak clearly here for the first time. You had always been too broken to do so, often just crying silently, wishing you were with them. “I’ve missed both of you so much. I hope you are happy, wherever you are, having lots of fun, and missing me,” you laughed a little, trying to make small jokes. “I’m doing okay, I’m moving away, so I won’t be able to visit as often, but I promise you that I’m taking you with me, you are with me every day, here…” you placed your hand over your heart. “I hope that’s okay.”

You took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to tell them who you’ve brought with you.

“I brought some people to see you two if you don’t mind. They’d like to thank you, Jellybean. They are good people… I’m moving in with them. Now don’t be jealous sweetheart,” you said, a bit teary now, touching Eric’s name, “You will always be in my heart, you will always be my first love. But I’m taking your advice, and I’m moving on… thank you for encouraging that… couldn’t have done it without you…”

You stopped to compose yourself a little bit. “I’m gonna call them now, but before they get here, I want you both to know, that I love you both so much, with every little piece of my very broken heart. I’m trying to piece it back together, and I promise that you will always be a part of me. I’ll come see you again, okay?”

You brought your fingers to your lips and placed them on each of their names. You wiped your tears, turned around and nodded to Joel. He lifted Sarah up, and came to you, set her down between the two of you.

“Eric, Ellie, these are Joel and Sarah.”

“Hi,” Sarah said, her sweet voice filling the open space.

“Hello, you two,” Joel said.

“I’ll give you guys some time,” you said, before brushing your hand on the headstone one last time and walked away.

Joel took a knee in front of the headstone, one hand around Sarah.

“I wanted to thank you two, especially you, Ellie, for what you’ve done for Sarah here. There are not enough words in this world that can help me convey how thankful I am to you. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have met, from what Lynn and Maria told me about you two, you sounded like good people, and I’m sure Sarah here would’ve gotten along swimmingly with Ellie. I hope you found peace, and please know, that you will never be forgotten as long as we live. Thank you again, for the role you have played in our lives.”

He got up, leaned into Eric’s name, touched the headstone above it, and whispered, “I’ll take care of her for you, Eric. I promise. Don’t you worry about her. I will protect her with my life if I have to. She told me about her dream, what you said. Glad to know I have your blessing. Thanks again buddy, I’ll visit again soon.” He patted the headstone like he would a friend’s shoulder, brushed Ellie’s name with the back of his forefinger, just as he would Sarah’s cheek, and stepped back. He blinked back tears, and asked Sarah if she wanted to say anything.

You watched as Joel spoke, and after a while, he turned and walked back to you, leaving Sarah alone at the headstone. You watched as he wiped a tear from his eye and gave you a hug.

“She wanted to speak to them alone.”

The two of you watched, as Sarah sat down, cross legged in front of Ellie’s name, Jello in her lap. You could only imagine what she was saying, but you and Joel giggled a little at the thought of her introducing Ellie to Jello the purple bear. After a few minutes, she got up, and leaned on the headstone above Ellie’s name, giving it a hug, before doing the same to Eric’s. She came running back to the two of you, tears in her eyes, raising both arms at you, silently asking for you to carry her, her head on your shoulder, sniffling quietly. 

Just as you turned to leave, she said quietly,

“Bye Jello. I miss you.”

You and Joel looked at her, Jello still in her hand.

“Jello’s right here sweetie,” you said. “She’s coming home with us.”

“No… Jello stays,” she said, acceptance in her voice, waving a sad goodbye to the headstone.

You looked at Joel questioningly, he shrugged.

You got in the rental car, Sarah got into the back seat, standing between the two front seats while Joel rechecked her car seat – it was a different model and a different car, and the Papa Bear in him needed to be sure it was safe. You got a text from Lennie, asking what time the three of you would meet her and family for lunch, excited to meet Joel and Sarah. The picture of Eric and Ellie popped up on your locked screen.

“Jello!” Sarah said excitedly, pointing at Ellie’s picture.

“No sweetie, that’s Ellie. You spoke to her just now, remember?”

“No, that’s Jello.”

Joel picked Jello up, “This is Jello, BabyGirl, that’s Ellie.”

“No, this is Teddy now. That's Jello. Jello stays here,” she said, before hugging the bear and getting in the car seat, waiting patiently as Joel buckled her in, a sad look on her face.

A thought came to you. Sarah had never seen that picture before; Joel had always been strict about her playing games on phones that were not his or Jenny’s. She had never seen Ellie’s picture. You and Joel looked at each other in realisation, thinking of all the Jello involved menaces that had happened in the past few months, both of you huffing a laugh, tears in your eyes.

Your sweet, sweet Ellie. Your Jellybean.

Jello.

---

Joel closed the door behind him, placing his keys in the bowl on the console table. A delicious smell was wafting in the house, the sliding door and kitchen windows cracked open, letting the cool autumn air in. He toed his shoes off and walked into the kitchen, greeted by the sight of his little girl colouring on the kitchen counter, Jel-Teddy on her lap. You popped up from behind the counter, a tray of lasagna – the source of the smell, no doubt - in your mitt-proofed hands.

Joel leaned against the wall, taking in this sight he had dreamed of since that first time you cooked omelettes for him at your place. The three of you had officially moved in yesterday, spending the entire weekend unpacking and finally sleeping at the new house for the first time the night before. This morning, you made him omelettes – fast becoming a favourite of his – for breakfast, letting him feel you up as you made them, proving that there was, indeed, room for making out in your new kitchen, before Sarah woke up and joined the two of you. It was even better than his dream, he thought. He went to work with a heavy heart, looking forward to coming home to this exact sight, his heart feeling so full it could burst.

You placed the lasagna dish on the cooling rack, taking the mitts off, seeing Joel standing against the wall, his face the definition of contentment. He smiled when you noticed him, coming over to kiss Sarah on the head, giving her a squishy hug, praising her colouring skills, before going around the island to give you a breath-stealing kiss.

“Honey, I’m home,” he murmured against your lips.

“Welcome home baby.”

You basked in the feel of him, in your new home, with your newfound family.

There was a knock at the door, signalling the arrival of Jenny, Omera and Winta for dinner. They were delighted seeing the house all moved into, excitedly looking around, when a little voice piped up.

“Mommy, Daddy, I’m hungry.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat.

Mommy.

Joel gave you a side hug, eyes fixed on you, silently asking you if you’d be okay with her calling you that.

You got on your knees before her, hugged her little body tight, your ear on her chest, your eyes closed, revelling in the steady heart beats, filling your still healing heart that you thought would never be full again.

---

“Sarah sweetie, please don’t go outside, you can play on the swing later, I don’t want you to get your dress all dirty.”

Sarah closed the sliding door back up, disappointed to have been caught, and joined her cousin Winta on the couch. She was dressed in a fluffy white dress, a pink bow on her waist, with a matching headband in her hair. Teddy, a boy now, apparently, was looking particularly dashing, having been dry cleaned (a request by Maria, who had to gently wrestle the bear from her tiny hands) and dressed in a smart little tux and bowtie that Jenny had sown for him. A newly pregnant Maria was sitting on your couch, brushing a similarly dressed Winta’s hair. The doorbell rang, and you rushed to get it, dropping Maria a glass of water on the way.

You opened the door to some very excited faces, all smartly dressed in black suits, a white rose tucked neatly in their lapel. Tommy, Benny, Frankie and Santi entered, Tommy immediately drawn to his wife and nieces on the couch, the others straight to the kitchen to see what last minute treats you had available. Joel stood outside, looking sinfully dashing in his suit, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars for him.

“Hello, can I help you?” you asked him, leaning on the door frame.

“Baby…” he said, looking you up and down, before coming close to pull you into a kiss and a hug, “you shouldn’t look this good. It’s not fair to the bride,” he whispered, giving your earlobe a nip, making goosebumps sprout all over your body. “How long do we have to stay at the wedding?”

“One, you haven’t seen the bride yet, and two, the wedding hasn’t even started, and you’re already thinking about leaving?”

“One, no one holds a candle to you, even the bride, and two, how can I not when you look like this?” he murmured into your lips, his hand trailing down from your waist to your ass.

You playfully smacked his hands away, earning a pout from him, which quickly disappeared as soon as he saw Sarah and Teddy, going over to them, full of praises on how good they looked.

Your house had become Bridal Central, and the men were here to see the bride, currently being prepped in the bedroom you shared with Joel. The nervous groom was escorted to the farm earlier, needing the burly men working there to stop him from coming over for a peek at the bride.

Life had gone by swimmingly since you moved here. The restaurant was doing well, the farm was flourishing, Sarah had started attending daycare, adjusting well, making new friends, and you and Joel were just… in bliss.

The wedding was beautiful. You watched as the newlyweds Omera and Will danced to a slow jazzy tune, happiness clear on their faces, Joel and Tommy dancing with the girls on their feet, while you, Jenny and Maria sat at your table, taking in the sight, talking about nothing and everything.

There was a tap on your shoulder, Joel asking you to dance with him. Sarah had gotten tired and decided she wanted to sit on Gamma’s lap instead.

Joel swayed you side to side, your bodies pressed together, his eyes never leaving yours, making you blush, as if this was the first time you had ever laid an eye on him.

“Why are you blushing baby?”

“Cause the handsome Sheriff kept staring at me.”

“Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“You think?”

“I know he does. Has had one since you opened the door for him to yell at you.”

“And called me a pedo.”

He shook his head, embarrassed, but still an undeniable smile on his face.

“He fell for you right away, you know?”

“I think he fell for me because I flashed him.”

“That certainly helped,” he said, a cheeky smile on his face, his eyebrows wiggling meaningfully.

You smacked him on his chest. He continued swaying with you, humming to the song.

“You think you’d like to have one of these parties for us one day?”

“Do you?”

“Definitely,” he answered, without hesitation.

“Then, when you’re ready, all you have to do is ask.”

He stopped swaying, pulling back to look at you, excitement on his face.

“Really?”

“Yes, but not today. It’s Will and Omera’s day.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Yes, Sheriff Miller, that is a thing.”

“But you’ll say yes?”

“Eh… I’ll think about it,” you said, before pulling him back into you to sway some more.

He kissed you, long and deep, smiling into the kiss throughout the remainder of the song.

You are happy.

You made the right choice.

You braved your way into coming here.

You opened your heart again.

You stayed.  

---

THE END

[pixelatedraindrops]

RAINCODE COMIC COLLAB~☔️

BEHOLD THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR!!

3 full weeks of work and its finally completed!

So @kazinsblog and I did another raincode art collab together but this one was a HUGE project! This one's a full 18 page comic!

Idk if you all remember the comic idea that Kazin was planning to do that involved Yuma overworking himself until he gets sick and then gets tended to by everyone else. But when I saw it, I decided to ask her if she was willing to possibly collaborate on it, remaking it where she sketched it and I colored it.

Kazin's Beta images: 1 2 3 4

So here's the results of all that work. We've been at this since December 17th so this has been an almost full month collaboration. And of course mine's a bit more altered to my own style as well as adding my own touches and making it a little more whumpy/extreme... X'D I also freehand drew shinigami in my version as well.

Both our versions look pretty different! The only thing that are the same are the poses. So feel free to check out Kazin's traditional version as well!

Since its an 18 page comic, I decided to put it under a keep reading so it won't clutter everyone's timelines. Also, I will be narrating the pages because I love narrating sick filler type stories. So brace yourself for a VERY LOOONG post!! Def need time to read this one! (and no purple tinted filters here this time!)

Also note: If the writing is blue, it means the character is thinking, just like in the game! :)

And I apologize on the inconsistency of Yuma's bangs... I thought it was one way before so half of the comic he looks like he has square bangs... oof XD I fix it around page 10

ANYWAY, hope you enjoy this soft buffet, Raincode Community! 🌡️💕

(Page 1)

Our story begins on an ordinary day in Kanai Ward. Rainy gloomy and depressing as ever. Our little victim... wait... XD I mean protagonist Yuma decides to go out to investigate more about Kanai Ward to try to track down it's supposed ultimate secret. Yakou sets him off wishes him well and tells him to be careful. However, as he's out, he finds out a lot of people in the city need help. Because of his good nature and unable to turn down someone in need, he decides to help whoever he can. (the ultimate side-questing lol) Before he knows it, he's soaking wet and he had helped 10 people in total. Time passed and it was almost evening so he returns to the submarine. Yuma was completely unphased by this. (and he didn't dry himself off for 4 hours due to being occupied with tasks)

(Page 2)

Yuma returns to the Agency's submarine to greet his chief holding his meatbun order. (that also got wet) But Yakou notices that the trainee is sopping wet to the core and shivering. He immediately loudly demands that he sit down so he can tend to him. Yuma does as he's told and sits on the checkered sofa. Yakou rushes to the shower room to grab some small towels to help him dry off. But because Yakou is so panicked, he ends up being very rough in drying Yuma, pulling his hair and causing the small boy pain. After he dries him off, he tells Yuma he isn't allowed to leave anymore for the rest of the day and demands him to rest. Yuma tries to retaliate using puppy eyes, but it doesn't work. Yakou is immune.

(Page 3)

The next day Yuma asks Yakou if he can go out to work after he finishes his morning chores around the place looking very eager. Yakou still looks a little concerned by how tired Yuma looks, so he tells him to not go out alone. He assigns him a partner to go with the rest of the week.

On the first day he's paired with Halara. The two of them are asked to investigate the art gallery of Ginma. (maybe after the nail man case) But over time, Yuma starts developing a lingering cough that persists for quite some time. Halara asks Yuma is he's okay, to which Yuma lies saying that it's due to the dust of the room. But of course being sharp, Halara isn't buying it. But they decide to not persist him further.

On the second day, he's paired with Desuhiko. They're asked to go help out at the Aetheria Academy with another case (not murder related this time) However on the way to the school and in Ginma, Yuma starts slowing down, he's shaking and is a little wobbly. Desuhiko notices this and asks if he wants to go to the cafe for a drink. Yuma nods and as they go to the cafe and order some coffee, Yuma takes off his hat and coat and Desuhiko finally realizes how pale he looks. He's even slower at replying to him as he speaks, as if he's in a daze. Desuhiko decides to take Yuma back to the agency after this.

(Page 4)

On Day three, he's paired with Fubuki. But he doesn't even make it to the case as when he goes to the sun and moon hotel to meet with her, Fubuki notices and points out that Yuma's face looks red. The boy clearly had a fever building. Yuma argues with her but Fubuki persists. The two of them try to go to the case but Yuma nearly collapses. So Fubuki returns him to the agency.

On the fourth day where he's supposed to be paired with Vivia he spends a majority of the day passed out. Vivia decides to watch over him using his forte to not disturb him. During the night while he's asleep, his breathing gets more labored and he's completely restless. Vivia looks at him deeply worried for his dear friend's well being.

The next morning Yuma somehow finds the strength to get himself up. Maybe that one day of rest was enough. But Yakou insists that he stays put today. Angrily yelling at him to be still and take today off as well.

Meanwhile, a certain two seem to notice each other...

(Page 5)

Vivia's spirit notices Shinigami and decides to give her a warning. Make sure Yuma listens to Yakou and doesn't leave. Giving her the iciest glare, Shinigami fearfully agrees.

But this effort would be for naught, despite how he feels, Yuma's relentless determination forces himself up, putting on his rain attire and heads up the steps of the sub to the outside when Yakou isn't looking. Shinigami does what she can to stop him, but he doesn't listen...and Shinigami being a ghost, there was nothing she could do to physically hold him back. All she could do was follow, and prepare for the inevitable.

By some miracle he makes it to the church, up the stairs to speak to the nun. Who tells him to play therapy again for the townsfolk. He nods and heads to his first client. But when he returns to kamasaki to speak to him, he can barely make out what he's saying as he lets out a few more coughs.

Once he leaves the client, before long, Yuma could hear something in his body snap.

(Note: I direct most of the story, but Vivia conversing with Shinigami in spirit mode was actually Kazin's idea! So credit to her for that, So silly and fun! ^^)

(Page 6)

Yuma's body had finally reached it's limit. All the fatigue, chills and body aches had hit him all at once at full force like armed weaponry. His head began throbbing, he was shaking violently and uncontrollably, he felt nauseated by the rain's smell, and his body heat and the lingering dizziness was unbearable. He found a safe corner in the alleyway of Kamasaki to collapse. Telling Shinigami she was right and he should have listened to her, while the burning fever and cold rain wrecked his delicate frame even further. His voice was hardly audible, but Shinigami still heard and practically tells him to go back. But Yuma had no strength left...

Then like clockwork as they finish speaking, he could hear his name called. At first it sounded kind and questionable. But that rapidly changed, the voice now angrily yelling out his full name. As he looked up this voice belonged to...Yakou. He looks down at the boy in pure disappointment and anger.

Turns out a certain someone was tailing him. And alerted Yakou what happened just in time.

(Note: I make the red darker the more extreme the temperature and lighter the less extreme. I got to experiment with all sorts of new ways to color fevers hehe~ >w<)

(Page 7)

Yuma shockingly looks up at Yakou. Oh no, he was so BUSTED! Shinigami even says as much. Yakou practically scoops Yuma in his arms carrying him back to the agency. As he was lifted Yuma's world begun spinning. He could barely hear the chief nagging him in a panicked tone. It was all distorted and it was making his head hurt more. Yakou placed a hand to his cheek and was shocked by how hot it felt. All Yuma could do was apologize and hope his world stops spinning and that Yakou eventually stops yelling... (also I put numbers for the order to read the speech bubbles in)

Upon returning to the agency, Yakou dries Yuma off, asks Desuhiko to give him a warm set of clothes to borrow and put him to his own bed. Grabbing a basin of very cold water, washcloths and a digital thermometer. He placed one of the wet cold cloths under his bangs and upon reading the boy's temperature, it was high. Almost high enough to visit the ER. Yakou was even more mad, but speaks in a non yelling tone. Giving Yuma another stern warning to not leave the bed. To which Yuma weakly agrees to.

But Yakou's back to yelling again, feeling paranoid Yuma would be missing by the time he gets back from getting the supplies. So he drills that message right into the boy's already throbbing head once more. Everyone else in the office awkwardly listen in as the sick trainee gets scolded.

(Note: Just an FYI, Yuma's speech bubbles being wavy is a sign his voice is raspy and the text being a bit hard to read means his voice is hardly audible)

(Page 8)

Yakou leaves Yuma alone and walks into the office in his raincoat telling the other detectives that he'll be leaving soon and to watch over Yuma in his absence and NOT let him leave. He is so full of anger and anxiety that he yells at all of them too.

Everyone agrees and as Yakou leaves, they all discuss among themselves Yuma's state the days they were partners with him. He was in bad shape. And he only got worse as the days went by. They all knew.

(Page 9)

Meanwhile back in Yakou's quarters, Yuma was getting lectured yet again. This time by his death god partner, Shinigami. The poor trainee only wanted peace and quiet to make the pain in his head go away, using what little energy he has remaining speaking in his head he tried telling her to stop.

But the aggravated spirit persisted, saying that as his mentor she had the right to scold him just as much as Yakou. She continued her rant, until an abrupt sound from her master shut her up.

The few coughs that came from Yuma eventually erupted into a full blown coughing fit. The coughs sounding more wet, rough and serious. After coughing 10 to 15 times in a row Yuma was exhausted. Shinigami looked down at him panting with concern and pity in her eyes. She decided to stop the lecture for his sake.

After the fit, Yuma was left raggedly breathing. As Shinigami gave him her permission to rest and take it easy, he didn't answer. He couldn't. That fit completely mangled his throat. He was not able to speak vocally or in thought process anymore due to his head being in too much pain. As was the rest of his body, aching and burning. So he didn't answer her. All he could do was hope sleep would eventually take hold of him to make all this awful heat and pain stop even if for a just moment.

(Note: That's the penalty Yuma... x'D Sorry I gotta make him suffer lol. Also this is the only page that’s actually read left to right. I messed that up, sorry!!)

(Page 10)

After some time passed it was time for the Master Detectives to all take part in taking care of Yuma. The whole agency had a day off to do this. So upon his return, Yakou instructs everyone to look after Yuma in 2 hour shifts through the day. Even if it was just to watch him sleep. He couldn't be left alone.

Halara was first. Their task was to help Yuma take the medicine that was bought. There were three types of medicine for him to take. Antibiotics (white pills) for the general illness symptoms, painkillers (red and white pills) for the headache/fever, and finally...cough syrup. (aka his least favorite... XD) Halara made sure to be very gentle with Yuma propping him upward as his whole body was burning and he was very shaky. He even had trouble drinking the water, so Halara had to get a mug instead so they could help him drink it by holding the handle, and using the other hand to support his back. Despite the struggle, Halara worked diligently to complete their task as a caretaker in full. (as for who paid them to do this...idk I'll leave that to your imagination XD)

(The cough syrup idea was inspired by this fic :3)

Desuhiko had the second shift and the whole time he was waiting for his turn, he was writing a song for Yuma. Having the delusion that his angelic voice would lul the sick boy to sleep, he played his guitar and began singing. Yuma's headache did improve enough to speak in his head now, but that wouldn't last, as the loud noises from the guitar made his head pound even further with every strum. Shinigami begs for the noise to cease fire on her poor eardrums, but Yuma doesn't have it in him to stop Desuhiko. The gesture was kind so he decided to try to listen to the whole song, despite the noise. He does eventually tell him to stop though (using hand gestures) when another song comes afterward. So then the two spend their time conversing for a bit, (though desuhiko does more of the talking as yuma just nods or makes small noises/hand gestures due to his throat still hurting too much to talk) Desuhiko even telling him he could keep the sweater and shorts he had lent to him. To which Yuma softly smiles at him as a thank you before he eventually falls asleep again.

Fubuki has the third shift, and her task was to feed Yuma the warm vegetable soup that was bought earlier and that Halara had just finished making, along with Fubuki's help. She volunteers to feed him as she remembers a time she was ill as a child in the clockford mansion and one of her servants tended to her, feeding her soup just the same. Unfortunately, because this was a memory of her early childhood, she repeats similar phrases as the servant did when she was feeding Yuma, who was clearly not a small child. Yuma's fever had dropped enough to where he could find a bit of strength to try and sit up on his own now, and his once mangled throat’s condition had improved for him to speak a little bit. As he listened to Fubuki's rambling he tries to play along with her despite the whole thing being a bit embarrassing for someone his age. At least the soup was nice and warm. It felt good going down his very sore throat.

(Funny Fact: The order that Yuma is both partnered and tended to by each detective, is the same order as the chapters in game he's partnered with them LOL)

(Page 11)

It was evening, and now it was Vivia's turn to take the fourth and final shift. At first he was just going to sit and watch Yuma while he read his book quietly, but Yakou suggested that he read one of his books out loud to Yuma to help him relax better like a bedtime story. Vivia was unsure at first, as he's never read to anyone before. But he decided to give it a try. He asks Yuma what his preference in literature is before he starts, and Yuma tells him he enjoys detective novels the most. So he pulls out the novel that was in his reading list and begins to read it out loud to him. Turns out he was quite a natural at narrating, and his slow voice was very soothing. Yuma felt so relaxed that he felt like he would fall asleep any minute, but he tries to stay awake to listen to the story a bit more. Shinigami however, conks out immediately. (fyi: yes this is the novel Vivia talks about in his final gumshoe gab. I tried to make up stuff based on it.. X'D)

Once the clock strikes 9pm and night falls, the Master Detectives all wish Yuma well and leave to return to the hotel to retire for the night. It was just Yakou and Yuma now. Yakou, who had just come back from another errand, walks over to Yuma who was now fast asleep. He looked a little better so Yakou removed the towel from his forehead and places his hand onto it. It still felt warm but no longer as hot as it did hours ago. Meaning he was out of the danger zone, much to Yakou's relief. He places the towel back in the water basin wringing it out and re-applying it to his forehead. Then he lets out a yawn. He was pretty tired. He decides that instead of sleeping in the office on one of the sofas, he'd stay by Yuma's side. His removes his jacket, goes and turns off the overhead lights, sits down and places his head down on his desk. Then after telling the sleeping trainee goodnight he turns off the small light by his desk.

OKAY FUN FACT: The comic WAS going to end here going on to the final page... Buuut~ We were STARVING for some good ol' Yakou Fathero :3 So... Enjoy these bonus 6 pages of Yakou having a shift of his own to look after Yuma in the middle of the night. And its the longest shift.

This ones for you Yakou Fathero fans! Eat your fill!

(I know we sure did :3)

Also I apologize if the lighting here is inaccurate ;w; I tried my best I'm no pro LOL

(Page 12)

A little past midnight, Yuma was stirring in his sleep. Making all sorts of groaning sounds as if he was in pain. He was likely having a nightmare. This is confirmed by his eyes suddenly opening and him violently flinging himself up screaming, and the cold cloth flying off his forehead.

This sound wakes Yakou up immediately as he puts his glasses back on asking Yuma if he's okay. He flicks the light by his desk on to check on him. Yuma's found shaking with tears in his eyes stating quietly that it was just a dream. Yakou sympathizes with Yuma as fever dreams were usually not fun, but a fever NIGHTMARE was always bad. The chief offers the shaking trainee some water to try to help him settle down.

(FYI: Shinigami is going to be absent from this part of the story because I think her banter and antics would ruin the fluff, so she'll just be lurking above in the shelf like a cat the whole time.)

(Page 13)

Yuma accepts the water practically snatching it from Yakou's hands and quickly gulping it down. Yakou tells him to pace himself not wanting him to choke. Once he exhales from the water drink, Yuma sheepishly apologizes for waking Yakou up with his scream, feeling like a burden. Yakou reassures him it's okay and decides to ask him the question of why he pushed himself this far while he was still awake. Hard enough to make himself sick. Why did he do it?

Yuma was surprised by this but decides to try to tell him. He hands the water glass back and began talking. Under his raspy voice and somewhat heavy breathing, he says that he wanted to be useful as he felt like a burden to everyone since he lost his memory. He also says that he likes helping others and that it feels familiar to him. Determined to try to unlock a core memory of his past he kept doing this, even to the point of pushing his limits.

Then he suddenly stopped speaking...

(Page 14)

...aaand cue the coughing fit. Yuma's throat got scratchy and irritated after his long explanation, causing him to cough about 5/8 times in a row. Not as bad as his previous fit but it was more than enough to startle and worry Yakou.

Yakou quickly hands Yuma the water glass he had just taken from him hoping it would soothe his throat. He tells him that helping others is a good thing but he shouldn't push himself to the point that his health gets affected. Yuma quietly nods and as he sips the water still shaking, Yakou feels bad and decides to apologize to him for being harsh before. Stating that he only lost his temper because he was scared and worried for him. He also places his hand to Yuma's cheek in both comfort and to check his temperature. It felt slightly warmer than a few hours ago.

Yuma quietly apologizes to Yakou for worrying him, still holding the water glass. Yakou forgives him. Then he takes the glass from him and then the towel that fell off Yuma's forehead. He grabs a fresh one and soaks it in the basin wringing it out and places it back on the trainee’s forehead unintentionally a bit roughly. Yuma groans and shivers a little from the cold of it.

Yakou then lies Yuma back down, tucking him back in trying to make him comfortable. But his actions were a bit too comforting. He was not meaning to in any way and he wasn't sure what came over him, but he was treating Yuma like a little kid. Yuma notices and feels a little embarrassed by it, but decides to only say it in his head.

Yakou decides to do one more thing before he lets him go back to sleep.

(Note: Hey far as anyone's concerned Yuma, you are practically his BABY when you are having a sick day, so deal with it hehehe :3c)

(Page 15)

Temperature taking page time :D (my favorite, teehee! I know some cultures and in anime they take the temperature under the arm, but there's just something so endearing and adorable about a sickie with a thermometer in their mouth <3 OKAY MY RAMBLING ASIDE...)

Yakou is now a bit concerned that Yuma's fever spiked again after that little harsh coughing fit so he decides to take his temperature one more time before letting Yuma go to sleep again. Yuma obliges and goes along with it opening his mouth as the device is inserted.

After 15 seconds the device beeps and Yakou takes it out. Yuma shyly pulls the duvet up to his face and hides as he meekly asks if its any better feeling a little nervous. Yakou responds that it is better than it was the first time, where it was a dangerous degree.

However, he still wasn't out of the woods yet. The fever was still there and although it went down, it was still in the red. Yakou states that he's still feverish to which Yuma just apologizes. Poor thing just wants this to be over, he really doesn't want to trouble anyone anymore.

(sorry yuma I can't let you off that easily hehe 😈)

(also yes I put an instruction manual for how the thermometer works, I am so obsessed that I even give the thermometer lore LMAO. Sorry if I'm inaccurate in any of those readings. I used google... ^^;)

(Page 16)

Yakou places the thermometer back on the desk and tells Yuma to go to sleep. Saying the fever will likely break by morning. To which Yuma states that he's in Yakou's bed and that he should return to the checkered sofa so his boss could sleep, attempting to try getting up. But Yakou puts a hand on his shoulder stopping him and denies this and says his desk is fine and that Yuma needed the bed more than him.

He also says that if Yuma had another bad dream that he would be there for him. Yuma smiles at Yakou quietly thanking him as he's tucked back into the duvet. Yakou pats it gently telling the trainee to close his eyes.

It isn't long before Yuma is back to being fast asleep. (and shinigami too)

Yakou monologues to himself for a bit groaning at how much trouble this small detective has been for him since he showed up. But then he switches his tune and places a hand to Yuma's head petting it softly. He says he's happy he's working hard for the sake of his memories but right now he needs to work on getting better. Saying it would help everyone in the agency if he wanted to help people.

He wishes him well continuing to pet his head for a bit longer to soothe him before going back to sleep himself turning the light off again.

(Page 17)

2 hours later, Yuma was stirring and whining in his sleep once again. Yakou groggily wakes up wiping his tired eyes upon hearing the soft noises the small trainee was uttering. And he was crying again. Can only be one thing: Another nightmare.

Instead of turning the light on to wake him up, Yakou moves his chair close to him sitting at his side. Not saying a single word. (cept in his head lol) He reaches his hand for Yuma's as it twitches and he takes hold of it gently.

Yakou eventually leans on the bed as he does so and falls asleep sitting up again. Yuma's groaning and and heavy breathing begin to settle down a little as he felt Yakou's presence close by.

Then he smiles as he closes his hand in his sleep holding Yakou's hand back, leaning a bit close to it. He felt safe again... <3

(Note: This poor thing has way too much trauma... ;w; I headcanon that he's prone to night terrors on occasion, but when he gets a fever, its even WORSE. Fevers do be messing with your head... x3)

(Page 18 Final)

The next morning when Yakou wakes up, he checks on Yuma. He still felt slightly warm but he looked much better. Seemed the worst was over and it would likely last just one more day.

When he's fully awake and at his desk, Desuhiko shows up asking Yakou if Yuma's okay and offered to wake him up. Yakou denies it saying Yuma needed one more day of rest, the fever may have been only slight now, but in the rain it would rise again easily.

Desuhiko agrees and declares that he's going to work hard today. Likely to make up for Yuma's absence. Yakou teases him and the two have a bit of a banter.

Yuma meanwhile is asleep peacefully. Still having a slight red tint to his cheeks, but he's able to sleep a lot easier now. His fever was slowly but surely breaking. (now in the yellow) Shinigami sleeps beside him, making sure she protects him from any nightmares in yakou's absence. (after all only SHE can give her master nightmares)

He wakes up fully recovered the following morning thanking everyone for taking such good care of him, and he makes sure to not push himself anymore. And continues searching for the city's ultimate secret while pacing himself to help others from now on.

THE END ❤️

(I practically made this into a sickfic in its own right... XD)

Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed!! This is just a little artist credit page I made for Kazin and I c: Also art semi-face reveal?? xD Kinda?? Idk lol (we just two gals that like our sick comfort haha x3)

Anyway thank you again Kazin for doing this with me!! It was hard work but it was a blast and the final result came out amazing. Its surely a project I will cherish forever~ 💜🩷✨🌡️

A wholesome story to start 2024 on a good note.

[perceivedregret]

She’s on the cusp of falling into a deep sleep when she feels it, that something around her has changed. Vi doesn’t know when she lowered her head and closed her eyes, textbook abandoned on the floor. When did the room get so dark? And where’s Caitlyn? Vi blinks as she turns her head, hand reaching for the empty spot next to her that Caitlyn occupied. It’s still warm. She tries to roll over but finds herself caught underneath something, or someone sitting on the back of her thighs. or they're about to just go at it for 3.7k words

the start of this fic (part 3 of my soccer au) can be found under the line, but the 3.7k words of smut that comes after can be found in the ao3 link.

The pen rolls off her desk with a clatter when she hears it. Caitlyn turns towards the sound, heart rate ticking up as she stares through the space between her curtains. She leans down to retrieve her pen when another clink sounds from her window, and she freezes bent over, hair over her eyes.

“The hells?” she mutters as she sits up, placing the pen on her desk so she can investigate. As she makes her way over another clink sounds followed by a succession of knocks, and that’s when she sees it, a blur of pinkish-red.

“Oh for heavens–” she says with a relieved sigh, hand to her chest as she approaches to unlock the window. She heaves it open with a sigh. “What part of I have to study did you not understand? Do you need me to say it in Spanish? Tengo que estudiar,” she says around a grin she tries but vehemently fails to hide as she steps back.

“In my defense,” Vi mutters as she climbs through, her own backpack over her shoulder, long board in hand. She sets them down by the windows and kicks off her shoes before she turns, shakes her hair out with a grin as she saunters over to take Caitlyn’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve had my fair share of concussions and my hearing sometimes goes to shit.”

“I texted you!” Caitlyn says around a chuckle.

“Maybe text it to me in Spanish next time,” Vi murmurs as she tilts Caitlyn’s chin down to kiss her, those fingers slowly tracing her jaw to palm her cheek so Vi can deepen the kiss. Caitlyn hums into it before pulling away, hands on Vi’s hips.

“I really–”

“Need to study, yeah, so do I,” Vi breathes, pulling her back in, her other hand trailing down Caitlyn’s back to grab at her ass, kneading into the muscles there as she slots a thigh between her legs.

Caitlyn exhales forcefully from her nose as Vi licks into her mouth, her own hands slipping underneath Vi’s grey sweatshirt, earning her a shiver.

“Why are your hands always so cold,” Vi nips at her lips, hissing as those cold fingers trail up her chest where Caitlyn discovers she’s without her usual sports bra. Vi hums as Caitlyn grabs at her before she lightly drags the pads of her thumb over her nipples.

“I’m not cold, you’re the one who runs at a million degrees,” Caitlyn says as Vi’s hand dips lower until she’s reaching for her folds through her thin satin shorts, eliciting a breathy moan as Vi stokes her from behind.

“What’s it been, three weeks?” Vi presses against her core through the fabric, lips ghosting over Caitlyn’s whose breath is caught in her throat as Vi strokes her again. “I still haven’t tasted you,” Vi groans as she pulls her hand back to rest on Caitlyn’s waist with a gentle squeeze.

Caitlyn rests her forehead to hers with a slight shake of her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “And same as last time, I have to study.”

Vi pulls away so they’re just joined at the hip, a deep sigh escaping her. “I know, I know, I just… I don’t know, I wanted to see you. I got homework anyway, figured we could do our own thing together.” Vi leans in to press a single kiss to her cheek before pulling away entirely to grab her stuff.

Caitlyn rolls her eyes endearingly as she makes her way over to her desk. She gathers the reading and binder full of her assignments and makes her way over to her bed with Vi who's already settled in on her stomach at the end of the bed, a textbook open under her nose, a pen being absentmindedly chewed between her lips. 

Caitlyn settles in next to her, assignment strewn before her, and they get to work.

[blue-jisungs]

best employee

a/n. not sure proofread sorry :(

word count. 1077

warnings. like one or two swear words

finally finishing your report, you clicked to save the file. while the empty, pixelated strip showed on the screen and filled gradually with green, you leaned back and shot your arms above your head, stretching. once saved, you closed the program and grabbed two empty mugs and the dirty plate you had on your desk.

entering the social room, you saw some of your coworkers. after quickly grabbing another (4th? 5th?) cup of coffee this day, you joined them.

all of them were from different departments except felix. gunil, the oldest one, scoffed.

“you look like death”

sending him a thunderous glare, you just took a sip of the warm beverage. it was disgusting, the company should really invest in getting a new coffee machine.

“i feel like death” you mumbled and lia shook her head.

“how about you just… don’t stay up all night to finish the project?” she hummed, pushing a plate with brownies (you assumed they were made by felix) towards you

“listen! i wouldn’t have to it our amazing boss didn’t give me so much work!” you whined, grabbing one.

“what? did mr kim give you extra work again?” felix asked, his australian accent coming through. you nodded with a pout, lia sending you an apologetic smile “i don’t think that’s normal”

“i know! ugh, last monday i was the last person to leave the office! even chan left earlier…” you grunted “also those are really good..?”

“i know, thanks” felix winked “but… did you do anything to upset mr kim? you’re the only one who gets extra paperwork”

“i don’t know…” you sighed and rolled your eyes “maybe if that dumb idiot–“

lia’s eyes went wide, gunil made a chopping (what is he doing?) gesture next to his throat

“–wasn’t so focused on checking out the new interns, then i wouldn’t have to do his work” you grunted

“speaking of interns, did you go through the ehs training with them as i asked you last week?”

“of course i did! as if we don’t have the people to do it and i, a poor–“ your voice died in your throat as you slowly turned around, just to meet mr kim’s ebony irises on you.

kim seungmin, your boss, was standing behind you. in a neat suit and black tie, holding a coffee cup with a puppy on it, he was laser focused on you. and you could swear there was a ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips.

“good. i still need a report of that with their signatures assigned. i suggest you get this done by today evening, l/n” he said, voice stern. then he looked at your co-workers, nodding slightly “enjoy your meals”

and off he went, back to his office.

“i hate that asshole” you mumbled, aggressively snatching another brownie

“to be honest… i think he hates you too” gunil said, earning a laugh from the rest.

you let out another deep sigh and for the 8th time this hour, fixed your position with a creak of the chair.

“for god’s sake y/n, stop moving so much”

you looked up at your boyfriend and put down the pen with a small thump.

“i wouldn’t of someone wouldn’t give me extra amount of unnecessary work” you hissed and kicked his leg.

seungmin looked at you lazily, eyes twinkling with mischief from above his glasses’ lenses.

“you do realise i wouldn’t do that if you didn’t gossip about me?” he tilted his head with a smile.

“gossip? what do you mean? what i do in my spare time is not your interest” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“it is, technically. as your boss…” he started but then his gaze fell back to his laptop “i assume you’re just jealous, baby”

“jealous?! of those interns?! pffff! i’m just tired of being mistreated!” you punctuated your words with a soft punch at the table.

“you do realise i can’t great you differently only because we’re dating? it would be unfair for others” seungmin fixed his glasses. you stood up and started pacing around the kitchen.

“yeah, well… i know. but i still don’t get why do you actually give me more work” you mumbled and looked at him.

boss kim was always neat, elegant, in a tie. his hair was styled and his composure always radiated some kind of coldness.

your boyfriend seungmin though looked like a fluffy stuffed toy. with an oversized shirt thrown in his body and messy hair, he looked adorable. glasses adorning his nose (since he wore lenses for work), a bare-faced cutie and nothing but relaxed and calmed composure.

“maybe this will teach you a lesson. besides, i literally help you. all the time” he turned around on the chair. something told you there’s at least one more reason.

“just admit it, you like to see me suffer” you stuck your tongue out and reached for a bag of his favourite snacks.

coming back to the table, you opened the snacks and put them in the middle of all your work clutter.

“i do” he chuckled and you just rolled your eyes “to be honest, i give you some extra work so my best employee doesn’t get snatched away”

“that’s… literally all the way around! if i’m your best employee, shouldn’t i get more projects where i can show my potential?” you teased, looking him in the eye. seungmin fixed his glasses with a swift move, tired expression on his face. yet, he was smiling and there was a boyish glint in his eye

“if you do show potential, you’ll get transferred. i make enough money to provide care for both of us and that way we can see each other at work everyday” he shrugged, leaving you speechless.

“yah, kim seungmin, you’re literally something else” you mumbled and shook your head “as long as you stop making me babysit those interns…”

“you were an intern once too, baby. and i was babysitting you then” he smiled upon the memory “and stop chatting with that felix guy so much, then i might stop”

“oh? are you jealous? mr big boss kim seungmin? jealous? i can’t believe my ears!” you gasped dramatically.

silence fell between you two, giving you a clear answer. seungmin came back to his work, the typing sounds filling the room. you swore you saw a hint of pink bloom on the top of his ears.

“i really do need that report though”

“oh fuck off”

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jiwuu ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @litepowee ,, @ocean-minho ,, @lessthanpast ,, @s-e-s-a-I-e-n-e

[vlrspace]

cw: angst/comfort, you get doubts about your relationship with shoto, there’s one (1) heated make out session, maybe a bit suggestive, shoto might be a bit ooc, tw: panic attack

wc: 4.2K

an: there might be some errors, i’m sorry. i have like three other fics to work on, but it’ll take me some time so stay tuned <33

when shoto confessed to you, you could hardly believe that he reciprocated your feelings. it had been a few months since then and he already showered you with so much of his love and affection, recently he’s been opening up to you some more as well.

behind his stoic behaviour, shoto is actually quite gentle and caring towards those who are close to him. he makes sure you two study together at least once a week, if you need help with training he’s happy to provide his services and he likes to take you out during the weekends. he knows you’re always there for him after a nightmare or when he gets flashbacks from his rather traumatic childhood, comforting him anytime he needs. in his opinion you’re the best thing ever happening to him, his mom told him as well how important it is to experience a kind of love where you two are giving your all in.

he’s just so lovestruck, your beauty, your personality and everything that makes you, you, he’s just so happy to call you his girlfriend. you make everything so much better when you’re around, he feels like he’s floating and you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. anyone who encounters the two of you can see it in his eyes, how the colours soften when you’re around, his sole focus on you, how you draw him in and how he’s always touching you in some way (sometimes the others call you over when they see you walk pass just to see how shoto’s expression changes in a split second, they think it’s adorable). he also knows how much you affect him and so do you because you feel the same when he’s around.

so why on earth are you experiencing these ugly emotions when he never you gave you a reason to and would never let you feel like he doesn’t want you anymore like you’re not enough for him?

lately, shoto and momo have been spending more time together due to getting paired together often during trainings and projects and you know neither of them would go behind your back like that, they always have been very close since your first year but somehow it still sets you off. you’re not some clingy girlfriend, you actually feel so sick for doubting your boyfriend like that but you’re not too sure what to do.

momo is such a beautiful girls, tall, curvy and her long black hair is falling on her shoulders so nicely. she’s intelligent and so smart, gentle and kind with everyone and again she’s beautiful, her and shoto would fit perfectly together.

you feel the book against your head before you realise your actions, aizawa stopping in the middle of his lecture to look at you in the front row and you hear bakugou barking a laugh at you when you realise you’ve been overthinking again and hit your head unconsciously in class.

“care to elaborate on that (l/n)?” aizawa raises a brow but the end of his lips are curling somewhat up. he knows what an inner turmoil feels like and he can tell that lately you’ve been in your head too much.

“i listened to my impulse thoughts sensei” you give him a wide grin to save yourself from embarrassment or raise any suspicions in your friends and most importantly in your boyfriend. it seemed to work because everyone started laughing. aizawa decided to let the class having fun and let you be before the bell rung signing another end of a school day.

shoto came to stand next to while you were packing up and and brushed a thumb against your forehead. “it didn’t hurt right?” he murmured leaning down to press a kiss against it. you hummed quietly while shaking your head and give him a small smile which he gladly returned and laced your fingers together, grabbing your bag as well while leading you out of the class and you two feel into a comfortable conversation.

when you got to the dorms you two parted to change out of your uniforms and agreed to meet in the common room later. you took a while as you were cleaning your room, only wanting to rest during the weekend so you messaged shoto that you’d come down later. he asked if you needed some help but you told him you’d be fine.

you finished just before dinnertime and you headed downstairs, finding everyone lounging around the common room. your eyes found shoto who seemed to be content while talking to momo and oh did that ugly emotion just return? you swallowed the lump in your throat, not realising how quickly it appeared while trying to remain calm.

“oh (y/n), come over here!” midoriya chimmed up loudly when he saw you, making everyone turn towards you and your eyes found shoto once again when he looked at you with a fond smile. before you walked over there, you should’ve checked if there was anymore space left because there was none as you came to a stand. shoto however curled his hands around your thighs and pulled you into his lap, his firm torso pressing tightly against you, one large hand (left) swallowing up one of yours, the other one (right) on your thighs and his chin is on the crown of your head.

once you got comfortable in his lap, the others remained their conversation with each other, inviting you in but you can barely hear them, too focused on shoto and momo. your boyfriend is talking to momo about a gala both of their parents will attend soon while shoto’s hand is stroking your thigh. you can’t say you don’t like the affection he gives you but you wish he talked to you too (he was, he hoped you would join in), but the lump in your throat was growing bigger and harder to ignore.

“my love, are you okay? you’re not as talkative like you usually are” shoto’s whispering tugs you back to reality, you feel his breath on you neck as he presses a soft kiss on it.

“is there anything bothering you? would you like to talk about it?” momo’s soft voice reaches you, but you give both a small smile.

“i’m just a bit tired, this week was rough i guess” you try to reassure them, but your voice cracks by the end of your sentence.

“we can eat in your dorm if you’d like then cuddle and watch a movie. how does that sound huh?” shoto mutters quietly into your ear, the hand on your thigh never stopping its caressing. you grab the hand that’s holding your hand, feeling how cold it is from his quirk and you start playing with it while looking down and thinking how that one hand dwarfs both of yours.

“i promised mina that we’d play uno tonight” your voice is small but shoto understands every one of your words. “and i don’t wanna ruin anyone’s night either” you are not sure how much momo was listening at this point, but it didn’t matter.

at times like this, shoto hates how you put everyone else before you, sure he prioritises you over himself, but he doesn’t want you to feel guilty over things like ruining your friends’ night by simply not feeling well enough to socialise. he knows that your friends are more than understanding of how it can be tiring at times to be a hero in training and no one would blame you for wanting some alone time. however, he decides to not press any further and wants to remain by your side for the rest of the evening (and the rest of his life).

“dinner’s ready shitheads” bakugou shouts from the kitchen since it was his turn to cook. everyone gathers around the dinner tables and some are helping with bringing out the food. momo leaves your side, not wanting to intrude any further as shoto helps you stand up from his lap and places his left hand on the small of your back and lead you towards your usual table with the dekusquad.

while you two are eating, a cold hand is placed on your right thigh and you realise how shoto was silently comforting you, not wanting his girlfriend to be sad. it made your heart flutter how kind he was with you even if he didn’t know what was up. you start to feel stupid for feeling this way.

the rest of the night goes by, you feel a little better and shoto was by your side the whole time. while playing uno, he once again placed you on his lap and you two were playing together while he hugged you close to him, head tucked between where your shoulder and neck meet.

that night shoto insisted he sleeps with you and you were more than okay with that.

you reach your downfall or more like your breaking point two weeks later, on friday during school. the weeks have been packed with group projects (both school work and training), momo and shoto have been placed together most of the time, leading you two to barely see each other and when you did it was for one of the projects where you had been placed into groups of 5. you were with momo, shoto, midoriya and kirishima, it somewhat relieved you that at least you had midoriya and kirishima with you so it wasn’t that uncomfortable (for you). the chemistry between shoto and momo was insane, they respond so well to each other and it got you wondering if you had such connection with shoto too.

maybe you should just talk to him and let him explore what could potentially happen between the two of them. but you love him so dearly, he’s like oxygen for your lungs, he’s the sun on gloomy days and he owns your heart, mind and soul. there is never a day where he doesn’t remind you how gorgeous he finds you, how much he cares for you, how much he loves you. he always treats you like a diamond, soft touches running across your skin when he’s around, caresses either cold or hot, it never really mattered to you. also how can you forget the tender kisses he leaves on your body or how he kisses your neck when you have a hard time expressing yourself, not wanting to make you feel like you’re under pressure. or when he whispers in your ears and leans down to hear you better because you only reach up to his torso. he completely dwarfs you with his height and large muscles when he circles his arms around you pulling you to his chest where you feel the most safe and protected.

you hadn’t realised how the tears started to roll down on your cheeks, only when a warm hand reaches over to cup your face while wiping them away with a thumb and started to caress the skin turning you slightly towards the owner. when you meet with your boyfriends bi-coloured eyes a loud hiccup escapes you. quickly gathering your school blazer, you storm out of the classroom without any word, running towards the toilets as you wipe your eyes harshly. the footsteps rushing after you stop when you disappear in one of the stalls.

after pulling down the toilet seat, you sit on it and bury your face in your hands, you harshly grab onto the hair at your scalp, your sobs escaped you uncontrollably as you cried. it was getting harder to breath as you started to hyperventilate and your whole body shook, the hold on your scalp became stronger making you pull your hair harder. you sounded so pathetic, oh lord when did you become so miserable?

shoto heard you from outside of the toilets, both of his fists balled tightly next to him. his heart was breaking down the longer he stood out there. he couldn’t think of anything that could’ve possibly caused you to break down, you seemed to be doing alright, so what happened? why didn’t you tell him that something was up? he knows how he sometimes has trouble with understanding with what’s going on but he would do anything to make you happy, literally anything. your happiness matters the most to him, if you’re happy then he’s happy. shoto brushed through his hair, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t walk in to the toilets, people might the wrong idea so he walked back to class.

when shoto walked back to class, everyone turned towards him and a few rushed to shoto, asking if everything is okay. however, his glossy eyes and his disheveled form was alarming to everyone and more importantly, where were you?

“todoroki what happened? where’s (y/n)?” midoriya asked, worry evident in his voice as he grabbed his friends shoulders.

“she-she’s in the toilets, she’s-she’s crying, i d-don’t know what’s g-going on” shoto’s voice was broken, he kept his eyes on the floor, his tears threatening to fall down on his face.

“i’m going to go and talk to her okay?” ochaco offered quietly as she gently rubbed shoto’s arm. he only nodded, he wanted to be the one to make sure you’re okay, you’re his girlfriend after all, the most precious thing in the world. ochaco left to see you but he couldn’t just stand there, he needed to get to you too.

“aizawa sensei, is it okay if todoroki goes inside the girls toilets? we can stand outside as well, to make sure we avoid any incidents, but it’s important for him to talk to (y/n)” momo turned towards aizawa, hoping to get his permission. she knows how important you are to shoto, you’re all he ever talks about when you’re not around. she still vividly remembers when he first came to her about his weird feelings and he didn’t know what to do with them or how to act around you. she remembers the amount of effort shoto put into courting you and even now when he finally has you, shoto’s efforts only increased. she always felt happy knowing how much in love you two were.

“don’t cause too much trouble” is all what aizawa said after taking a deep breath in. whatever happened between the two of you, he knows you can solve it and you two are better because he’s not blind, he can see as well how you complete each other.

“come on midoriya, iida, lets make sure no one interrupts them” momo instructed while grabbing shoto’s arm and pulled him towards the toilets.

meanwhile, ochaco tried to comfort you as much as possible, when she first heard your cries, she teared up as well. poor you must’ve been feeling really sad to cry this hard.

“(y/n), it’s ochaco. please open the door for me” she gently coaxed you, hoping that you will open it up for her and when she felt the lock open, she felt relieved. when she opened the door though, the sight of you made her feel incredibly sorry for you. you were sitting on your blazer, your tie on the floor and your shirt was unbuttoned at the top. your mascara was running down on your face and your hair was a mess, you were a mess. “oh my god, (y/n), what’s wrong?” she rushed to hug you and another sob broke out of you.

you could barely talk and she was barely able to catch what you were saying. the repeated few sentences were “i hate feeling like this”, “he deserves so much better” and “i love him so much” and ochaco got the gist of what you meant. someone made you feel insecure about yourself and you thought you weren’t worthy of shoto. but who made you feel like this and when did it become so bad?

unbeknownst to the two of you, the bicoloured boy was standing outside the stall, watching the two of you. you clung onto ochaco so tightly you hadn’t realised that he was standing there but ochaco did and she motioned for him to switch places. shoto ducked down and kneeled infront of you and ochaco gently tucked you into his arms. the second you felt the familiar arms circling around your smaller frame, you looked down to see shoto looking at you with big eyes, grey and turquoise hues looking at you with the same fondness as always but this time it’s more intense with love and affection. both of his hands came up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping your tears just like before and this time you stayed.

you thought you looked ugly, you’re in the middle of your breakdown, there is snot, tears and mascara everywhere but to shoto, you looked just as beautiful as always. he slid his arms back to your hips and pulled you onto him so he can keep you closer, you buried your face into his chest while he hid in your hair, hands running up and down on your back, hoping to soothe you.

it did soothe you, after a few minutes you sobs quieted down and only the occasional sniffles were heard. one of his hand found your face again and made you look up to him so you two can finally talk about what is going on because he’s extremely worried for you. you took him in now that you calmed down, his eyes were teary and his hair looked messy, the uniform on him looked very unorganised as he also removed his tie and a few buttons were undone.

“sweetheart” he whispers to catch your attention and when you look at him he continues “what’s bothering you this badly?” his left hand feels cold against your face and it helps to ground you.

“you gonna think it’s stupid” you mumble look down and fiddling with your fingers.

“tell me” he’s lips hover over your neck and his breath tickles you. “i want to know, let me help you” he presses his lips against the skin like he always does when he’s trying to comfort you. you don’t think there is any point in hiding it from him, this can’t get any worse (unless he dumps you right here and now).

“you and momo” his kisses stop but he doesn’t move his head to look at you “you two seem to be so good and the chemistry between the two of you is amazing. “you stop when he starts to leave kisses again “and lately we’ve barely been able to hang out together because of all the projects we get and i know it’s not your fault. i guess i just got insecure because i find momo very pretty and more fitting with you than myself. “you mumble and he looks down at you, grey and turquoise now swim in bewilderment and you know you messed up but continue anyways “i know you wouldn’t do anything like that to me and i tried to push these thoughts away but i can’t and i understand if you think we should break up” you look down at your hands, still fiddling. there, you said it.

now hold up, you think he likes momo? you think momo is a better match for him than you? you think he finds her prettier than you? you think he wants to break up with you? he doesn’t want to leave you, in fact he knows he’ll marry you when the two of you are ready for marriage and grow old together. shoto is planning to formally introduce you as his girlfriend to his family since they only met you after the afo war and you two weren’t even together yet. shoto never thought about momo that way, not when he only ever wanted you.

“how can you think like that?” he suddenly asks, fingers lifting up your chin, his eyes serious “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, when i wake up i can’t wait to your smile or see how your eyes shine when we hold hands. the way your hand fits into mine perfectly “he holds up your hand in his and watches as your fingers lace together “yours is so much smaller and cuter, just like you. i always want to protect you and be around you no matter what. you’re so gorgeous and since i’m with you, i never thought of any other girl the same way as i thought of you and you’re the first girl that i ever felt more towards to. “his words were messy, they weren’t in the usual collected manner like now “me and momo do spend a lot of time together but there is nothing going on i promise. if you want me to spend less time with her i will, just please don’t leave me” shoto’s voice is now pleading against your lips as he leaned down, kissing you softly and when you returned the kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth while one of his hands found your thigh, the other one on the small of your back and your hands sneaked around his neck, both of you are trying to pull the other closer.

shoto left your lips and kissed down to your jaw and neck right at your sweet spot. he licks it before sucking on the skin, you let out a small whine, grinding against him with your hips making him groan and you pull on his hair. he groaned again against your neck, leaving to go back to your lips after giving the bruised spot a kiss. this time he kissed you with more passion, hands cupping your lower cheeks underneath your skirt, your hips moving slightly but in sync. before you two could take it any further you put your hands on his chest in an attempt to push him away from you but shoto leans back in and catches you in another make out session.

when you finally manage to get him to stop kissing you, you both pull away and take the other one in. both of your disheveled forms and plump lips, could give others a different idea of what actually happened.

“please next time talk to me, even if you think it’s stupid, but for me it’s never stupid if it’s you. you scared me so much when you ran away from me crying. “he thumbs your lips before reaching for your tie and pulls it over your head “i love you so much, if you’re hurt then so am i” he presses a kiss against your forehead as he fixes your uniform. “let’s get back to class, the others must be worried i’m sure” he softly smiles at you and helps you stand up, grabbing your blazer as well as he leads you out of the stalls.

you take a look into the mirror but quickly turn around when you see the mess you became. shoto only chuckles and opens the door and you just stand there dumbfounded. is he going to leave like that?

“momo can you make some make up remover and a brush?” oh my god, there were people standing outside?

“of course, is she okay? does she need anything else?” momo’s concerned voices reaches you and you feel like a monster for letting your bad thoughts get ahead of you and make her seem like a bad person.

“yeah she is, just give us a few more minutes” shoto walks back to you and turns you so he can see you better when he starts to wipe your face with a tissue, then with the make up remover, afterwards he brushes your hair too, all of this with so much care and you let out a giggle at his focused face. it makes him smile when he finally hears you giggling and gives you a soft peck on the lips. you take the brush from his hand and brush his hair and wipe his face too with a tissue. shoto’s uniform still looks messy but he doesn’t care as long as you’re here with him and you’re happy.

“i’m taking you out this weekend, somewhere just the two of us okay?” he leans down, presses his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes.

they are full of love.

“okay” you smile at him and he leans down to kiss you once more before the two of you leave the girls bathroom.

iida acted like a security guard the whole time.

you apologised to everyone for the inconvenience and mainly to momo for getting in your head so much about her, but she only patted your head and said that there is nothing to apologise for, she just want you to be happy. shoto remained by your side for the rest of the day and reassured you of his love for you.

(shoto took you to the country side that weekend, where the todoroki’s had a mansion away from everything. he also made sure you know he loves you in more than one way)

[tactical-jellyfish]

For Joanna (pt. 1/3)

Warnings: Mild injury to reader (they are stupid an thwacked themself with a tool or fell or something)+ Nikolai is a depressed bisexual man.

There are a lot of things Nikolai knows that he can never hope to understand.

One of them is how many truly brilliant individuals lie unknown, being that single guy at the end of an "I know a guy" trail that's always way harder to follow than it sounds.

Price had said he knew some other tech who knew someone who was nothing short of a genius with a toolkit. Nikolai had never met them, but when Price showed him a gun that this mystery person had worked on, the Russian was sold, no contest.

So, now he stands before an only slightly rusted hangar space, cloaked by the depth of night and shielded from the chill by his leather jacket. It's small, for aircraft, but it will definitely fit his Joanne. He knocks hard on the shutter, and hears an almost girlishly loud yelp over the buzz of tools that sounds out despite the stupid late hour.

In a minute or two, the shutter opens, to reveal a very much upset person behind it.

They're wearing a thick shirt, probably flame retardant considering a welding torch was in their hand, turned off only recently.

"You better have a good reason for fucking up my last electrode and my gas shield, you little-"

"Привет."

Seemingly, they had not planned on Nikolai being there, because they quiet almost immediately, and swallow.

"I don't know you."

Nikolai fights back a small chuckle at how flat your voice is, just noting a fact right after being seemingly ready to tear his throat out and throw it in his face.

"Correct, you do not know me."

You seem to pull back a little bit at his voice, eyes opening just a bit more before your face hardens again, steeled even under his piercing eyes, catching the light of the moon.

"You're... very Russian."

This time, Nikolai does chuckle, but your brows pinch together, and you snip back at him.

"You heard of me from a man named Johnathan Price, didn't you?"

That makes Nikolai freeze in place, some mix of confusion, anger, and... a sort of fear in his eyes. Price had referenced you to him once, two and a half years ago, said he'd had a short conversation with you, nothing crazy.

And now, you stood before a man you didn't know, correctly identified why he was here, and knew exactly how he found out about you.

Seemingly, his pause brings you some sort of satisfaction, and you give a chuckle. It's a sharp, almost mean sound, like a cat batting a bloody mouse around in its paws, sinking its claws into flesh.

"Bring me my project in a week. Saturday, no later than 8 pm, or you're moving to the back of the line. Check only, don't bring cash."

Nikolai feels something bubble in his guts. It's hot, but not like anger, it doesn't twist and pull like lust, but it's close to both. His throat feels like it's been shrouded with drought.

He swallows, and you seem satisfied enough with yourself to let the shutter fall closed again, and Nikolai hears a lock click.

God, what is he getting himself into?

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

This client was... odd.

Even weeks into the repair process, even after acknowledging that he thought you were good at what you did, Nikolai hung in the corners of your hangar, always in a radius of Joanna, like it hurt him to be parted from the dinged-up thing for more than five fucking seconds.

A Pave Low, which you knew wasn't cutting edge anymore, named Joanna. And it's not uncommon to name a plane, or, in this case, a helicopter, but... it feels different, here, solemn. But that story isn't your job, fixing the little shit is. So that's what you'll do.

Your drill is whining under the force it takes to screw in yet another loose panel, but Nikolai remains in his spot, unmoving.

It's starting to annoy you, enough that you lose your focus for a critical moment, you don't pull away the drill fast enough.

Right as you turn to cuss at him, maybe just kick him out of your shop altogether, the screws holding the panel steady snap under the force of being bent, and your drill gives out, sending half of the thing flying toward you.

Your eyes widen, and a portal to hell seemingly opens in your throat as you fall backward, hand stinging and ground fast approaching.

"FUCK!"

Nikolai lets out a matching noise (much deeper, of course, and somehow still accented), and rushes forward.

He isn't fast enough.

It wasn't a long fall, but the air is knocked out of you anyway, leaving you panting and teary-eyed as you desperately try to coax air back into your lungs.

Your hand is at a, frankly, terrible angle, and as Nikolai stand over you, you try to move more.

Biiiiiiiiig mistake.

It's sprained, badly, but not broken. After your entire career up to now, you've (majorly) injured yourself at work with your least favorite client rushing to try and make sure you're not fucking dead.

"ты в порядке?? Are you dead??"

You choke on a sniffle, and cough to clear your tight throat, finally managing a full inhale.

"'M-" When you try to push yourself up onto your hands, you grunt in pain, prompting Nikolai to stoop to a knee before you, set his big hands on your back instead.

"M' fine. Just fuckin' dandy." You finish, despite not at all being dandy. Nikolai knows it from the way you grit out your voice, and you know it because you think you might have a broken tailbone.

It's that night that Nikolai starts forcing himself into your work day.

This first instance, it's... obnoxious, but acceptable, sitting in your spinny chair and letting the big man wrap up your hand, nice and tight, and hold some ice to it.

It's then that you finally get a good look at him. After weeks, yes, you're a little late, but you finally do.

He's... uncomfortably pretty, for a grown-ass man. There's a slight bump in the bridge of his nose, like it's been broken and healed before, thick but short-trimmed, scratchy stubble and neatly-combed-back hair.

It's professional, but almost boyish, antithetical to everything he should be on paper. He's military, or close to it. Russian, and you have never once met someone entirely content who had grown up with such boring, brutalist architecture.

But he still talks your ear off for the rest of the night, sends you home dizzied and confused, with a lot more knowledge on how to wrap up an injury.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ After that, you had thought (maybe stupidly) that Nikolai would fuck off a bit, maybe leave you the hell alone while you work on his trash-copter and honor your little "alone space".

He does not. You have decided, in all your wisdom, that this is an act of the highest disrespect because he not only doesn't trust you but distrusts your methods and your work.

So, you work doubly, hard, doubly good, just to get him off your ass for the next few days of repair.

Little do you know, Nikolai stand in that corner for a different reason now. He stand there to admire, to watch you do what he can't, and, to some extent... protect you.

He had been too slow, that day. He had been too slow and you had gotten hurt. Not only had it slowed the progress on this project, but he could still see you wince when you tightened down bolts with your dominant hand, grimace when you moved your wrist too far in any direction.

The final day rolls around faster than either of you think it will. You're excited to never talk to him again. Nikolai wants so dearly to thank you for saving his most prized possession.

It's a shock when you see the Russian bring more than a check and a few choice words as payment.

He's holding a small packet of biscuits, brightly colored, with a little cartoon cow on them, some Russian word you can't read in gold cursive. It looks cheap, but charming, like a childhood snack.

Seemingly, your look of question doesn't deter him, because Nikolai talks before you can question his intentions any further than you already have.

"For you. Because you did such a good job repairing her."

You feel... something odd in your mind open a set of floodgates, and realize that you've been misinterpreting at least three months of interactions.

This is nothing someone would do for someone they disrespected, this was a gift on top of a check that is at least two-hundred dollars more than what you had been asking, and even that price had a little wiggle room for your sake.

This is a present.

You take the biscuits into your hands first, trace the smooth, embossed letters of the packaging with a callused finger.

And, for the first time in a while, you find yourself... thankful.

You look up to Nikolai, see big, warm brown eyes looking back at you.

"Yeah... come back any time you need, alright? My door's open for you."

He nods. Nikolai, that motherfucker, he just nods like he hasn't uprooted every thought you'd had of him and turned it on its head. He smiles, like you didn't hate his guts before this conversation.

But you'll keep this promise anyway.

Nikolai is you best customer, after all, who would you to turn down... a friend? Yeah, a friend.

[tkwrites]

Worth the Wait - Quinn Hughes x ofc

photos from pinterest

Title: Worth the Wait

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mentions of a dead mother. Mostly, it’s fluff.

Summary: It takes more than a week, but Quinn and Sarah finally go on their second date.  

Word count: 5,500

Comments: This one is a little long, but I felt like all the parts were needed to flesh out the characters the way I wanted. I hope you enjoy! 

Part 2 is being planned as we speak!

Worth the Wait

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Hey Sarah, I just wanted to let you know we’re headed out on the road, so I’ll be out of town for the next week. 

Quinn sent this message before boarding the plane. He’d never done something like this before - tell someone he was interested in that he wouldn’t be home. He didn’t want Sarah to think he was ignoring her, or putting off their next date. 

Can I see you when you get back? 

Definitely, he sent, a giddy, effervescent feeling in his stomach.

The following evening, for the first time in her life, Sarah sat down to watch a hockey game. 

Eunice was in their living room, anxiously awaiting the start of the game. Currently watching people talk about betting odds in her Canucks t-shirt, a stuffed orca on the cushion next to her. 

Sarah had lived with Eunice for a little over a year. They were friends in the way two people coming together for convenience could be friends. She was nice and sweet, and made the best mac & cheese Sarah had ever eaten. She was also dramatic and had a borderline obsessive love for many things, including the Canucks. Sarah had never paid much attention to that particular obsession, as it didn’t cross over into her life, until now. 

“You okay?” Eunice asked when Sarah sat down.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You never watch hockey with me, I thought maybe you were sad or something.” 

“Oh, no, my project is done, so I’m free for the night and thought I’d join.” 

Eunice squealed and threw her arms around Sarah, “I’m so excited to introduce you to the best sport in the world!”

Feeling instantly overwhelmed, Sarah put on a brave face, and watched as the national anthem began to play. The camera scanned over the players, 5 stood separate from the others in a line, and her heart jumped into her throat when Quinn’s face came across the screen. He looked impassively at the camera. He seemed so different than when they had met, determined and competitive, not so quiet and interested. It was strange to reconcile the two as the same person. 

“What does the C mean?” 

“It means he’s the captain. That’s Quinn Hughes. He’s like, the best defenseman in the league.” 

"Isn't he a little small to play defense?" Sarah asked, surprised. 

Eunice looked personally affronted. "Hughes is an amazing skater, which is the most important thing in being a good defenseman. Defense in Hockey is more tactical than super physical." 

When the game finally began, Sarah was instantly overwhelmed. They moved so quickly, and it was damn near impossible for her to keep track of the puck. There were terms being thrown around by the commentators that were so niche, she didn’t even know where to begin figuring them out.

“What’s icing?” she asked when there was a commercial break. 

“So, it’s when a team shoots the puck to the other end of the rink, but no one is there to receive it.” 

She knew that wasn’t quite right. There were plenty of times before the break when that very thing happened, but no icing was called, and couldn’t the goalie receive it and negate that altogether? 

“And there’s no out of bounds?” 

“Nope. Just the rink. You can get penalized for shooting the puck over the glass though.” 

The game continued, and after a scuffle, Quinn skated off to sit by himself. 

“Why is he there?” 

“He got a penalty. High sticking,” Eunice said without any additional explanation. 

The announcers replayed the offense in slower motion, showing how in the midst of a play, Quinn had accidentally hit another player in the jaw with his stick. 

“That doesn’t seem like it should be a penalty when it was an accident,” Sarah said. The other guy wasn’t even bleeding.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s part of the game. Keep control of your stick all the time.” 

The camera moved back to Quinn in the little cell. He removed his helmet and rubbed a towel over his face and hair before replacing it.

Eunice sighed dramatically, “God, he’s so hot.” 

Sarah had to agree. He did look hot - supremely so. Flushed and sweaty, it was difficult to keep her mind off imagining him in her bed like that.

“Wait, why is it 4 against 5?” Sarah asked as the game began again. 

“Cause Hughes got a penalty,” Eunice said, as if this was all the explanation Sarah should need. 

Sarah stopped asking questions. Every time Eunice had tried to explain something in the past, she would get so excited, she would leave out key points, or assume Sarah had background knowledge she didn’t, and Sarah would end up even more confused. She often had to look up whatever they were talking about after their conversation anyway. 

The period ended, and Eunice left the living room. 

Sarah continued reading the article about the basics of hockey she had pulled up on her phone at the last commercial break. She wished she could watch with someone who would patiently explain each rule as it passed in the game. She had learned Football from her dad that way. Maybe Quinn could explain it to her. 

“Okay, so what’s really up?” Eunice asked when she returned, plopping back down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of caramels.  

“What do you mean?” 

Holding up one finger, she said, “you’re watching hockey with me,” she held up a second, “you’re trying to understand it,” a third finger went up, “and you’re, like, actually interested in sports?” 

“I’m interested in sports,” Sarah defended. “We’re a football family. My uncle coached.” 

“Whatever,” she waved her hand dismissively, “it’s a dumb American sport anyway.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes, but didn’t take the bait. 

“All I’m saying is that we’ve lived together for over a year, and you have never, not once, expressed any kind of interest in Hockey and I want to know what changed.”

The commercials ended and the camera cut to someone interviewing Quinn, who was in his full kit sans helmet. He answered questions in the same quiet, methodical way he had answered her on their date. Only this time, he said a lot of words without actually saying much of anything. 

Sarah chewed on her lip. 

“Did you finally discover how hot hockey players are?” Eunice teased.

“I don’t -” Sarah cut off, pushing a breath out her nose in frustration. 

She was about to tell Eunice that hot guys were not the only reason she watched sports, only to realize that that’s precisely what she was doing. 

“I met him,” she finally admitted. 

“You met who?” 

“Quinn,” Sarah said, gesturing to the TV. 

“Met? You MET Quinn Hughes?” Eunice asked, turning in slow motion to look at Sarah. “When?!” 

Sarah started, “on Monday.”

“Where? What? How?” Eunice demanded, her voice getting progressively louder with each word. 

“He came into the aquarium, asked some questions after one of my talks, and then asked if I wanted to get lunch.” 

“He asked you to lunch?” Eunice repeated. 

“Yeah, we went to get bao.” 

“Like on a date?” 

“I think so. I mean, he paid, and he got my phone number aft-”

“Quinn Hughes asked you for your phone number,” Eunice thundered, “and you didn’t think to tell me about it?” 

It probably wasn’t the right time for Sarah to point out that she and Eunice really didn’t have that kind of a relationship. In fact, Sarah hadn’t told anyone but Beth, her best friend from back home, who had been thrilled Sarah had finally met a good guy.

“Sorry,” Eunice said, settling on the couch like a proper lady in a period drama, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flip out.” 

Sarah wasn’t sure how she should react. She hadn’t intended on telling Eunice at all, worried - justly, it turned out - that she would freak.  

“But oh my fucking God,” Eunice yelled, throwing her hands up and breaking her posture to flop dramatically into a slouch. 

“What’s going on?” Jane asked, leaning in the door frame, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

“Quinn Hughes asked Sarah for her phone number,” Eunice declared, gesturing to Sarah as if she were the reason Jane was up early before her graveyard shift, not her own yelling. 

Jane perked awake, “really?” 

“Yeah,” Eunice said, sounding like a petulant teenager.  

“Oh my God. I didn’t think this was a big deal,” Sarah said, putting her head in her hands. 

“That the most eligible bachelor in the whole city of Vancouver asked you for your number? I’d say that’s a pretty big fuckin deal.” 

“He’s just a guy, Eunice.”

“I’d beg to differ," Jane cut in. “It is a pretty big deal.” 

“So he’s not a guy?”

Both women rolled their eyes at her. 

“Of course he’s a guy,” Eunice said, exasperated. 

“But he’s not ‘just’ a guy,” Jane said, air quotes and all. “He’s a little more than that, I think.” 

“Why? Because he’s a professional athlete?” 

“Yeah. And millions of women across the world want to marry him.”

“He’s handsome and all, but I can’t believe that’s true,” Sarah said. “Do millions of women even watch hockey?” 

At the fierce glares she received from both of her Canadian roommates, Sarah held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. Maybe millions of women watch hockey, and some of them find him attractive. But for my purposes, he’s just a guy. He was just a guy on our date.” 

“It's not about you,” Jane said. 

Sarah raised her eyebrows in a challenge. 

“What we mean is that it’s a big freaking deal that Quinn asked for your number.” 

She reeled back, “Is it so hard to believe that he would be attracted to me?” 

“No!” they both shouted, Eunice exasperated while Jane was horrified. 

“Of course he’s attracted to you. Look at you.”

“I think what Eunice means is that Quinn Hughes has celebrity status in this city, and so him asking for your number means that he saw something really special in you. Women throw themselves at him every day.” 

Sarah wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“It’s like, a major, major compliment,” Eunice said. 

Biting her tongue, Sarah resisted the urge to tell her that it was a major compliment if anyone asked for her number, celebrity status or not. 

“So, are you going out again?” Eunice asked, sitting back down on the couch. 

“I mean, we said we would, but he’s out of town until next week, so I guess we will when he gets back?” 

“Oh man,” Eunice said, leaning back in her seat. “You are living such a fanfiction right now.” 

Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes. 

Jane yawned. “I’m going back to bed. I have to be at the hospital at 2 in the morning.” 

“I’m sorry we woke you up,” Sarah said. 

Shaking her head, Jane smiled. “I’m glad Quinn saw the same things the rest of us do. If anyone deserves a fanfiction love story, it’s you.”

Heat raced into her cheeks, and Sarah smiled, turning back to the TV as the game began again. 

“I cannot believe this,” Eunice said, picking up the stuffed whale to clutch in her hands. “You’ve got to introduce me to Kuzmenko.” 

“Who?” 

A few nights later, Quinn was slipping into a dinner booth in St. Louis when his phone pinged with a message. 

Hey, I don't know what your schedule is next week, but The Electric is showing the Star Wars movies starting Sunday if you want to catch one together?

His heart jumped into his throat so fast, he made a sort of gasping choking nose that had Elias clapping him on the back. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Quinn said, clearing his throat. 

“Who is that from?” Petey asked quietly. 

Quinn was suddenly overwhelmingly thankful that he wasn’t sitting next to anyone else, who surely would have made a big scene of announcing that he got a text about a date to everyone in the near vicinity. Petey knew he preferred his privacy, and always respected that. 

“Remember that girl I was telling you about last week? The one from the aquarium?” 

His eyebrows shot up, “that’s her?” he asked, nodding at the phone.

Quinn nodded. 

As Elias watched, Quinn pulled up their practice and game schedules. 

Sounds awesome. I’m back in town Wednesday and free on Thursday or Saturday nights. 

Almost immediately, the icon of her typing appeared. His heart began to hammer a little harder, pulsing in his throat in that nervous, I-can’t-wait-to-talk-to-her way he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Thursday is The Empire Strikes Back, so I’m guessing that’s our choice. Unless you’d rather see the Force Awakens on Saturday?

Thursday is great.

Cool. I’ll get us tickets. Showtime is at 7 and they have a special menu for dinner and drinks at 6. 

Sounds great.

It was as simple as that. Quinn had never had a date planned so smoothly. 

Her text bubble popped up again, before going away. He gulped some of his nervousness down. 

When he clicked off the screen and looked at Elias, he found the other man smiling at him knowingly. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t think she existed.” 

“Sarah? You thought I was making her up?” 

Petey rolled his eyes, “No. I didn’t think the girl you always talk about wanting to date existed. But she’s right there,” he gestured to Quinn’s phone. 

Feeling his cheeks flush, Quinn shrugged to deflect the wave of sincere agreement that washed over him by busing himself with the menu. 

Leaving her last class, Sarah was beyond thankful to leave campus and go home. She was exhausted to the bone. It had been a hard week of studying and midterms. On top of that, nervous, excited energy was buzzing under her skin in anticipation of her date with Quinn that evening. 

When she got home and finally pulled her phone from her bag, she found a missed call from him. Stomach dropping, worry billowed into her thoughts like smoke. He was probably calling to say he couldn’t come. Why else would he call when they’d only texted so far?

 Rapid fire, her thoughts rifled through friends that might want to come to the movie before she snapped back to herself. This was her anxiety talking. It wasn’t the truth.

Taking the time to pull in a few deep breaths, she told herself he could be calling about something other than canceling. It took eight breaths before she felt calm enough to call him back.

The phone rang three times before he answered. “Hey.”

“Hi, sorry I missed you earlier, I was in my last midterm.” 

 “I’m sorry,” he said, wincing. That was one thing he didn’t miss about college. There wasn’t a lot, but the pressure of midterms and finals were something he was happy to live the rest of his life without. 

“Well, it’s done now, so I’m just excited to take a nap.” 

He laughed. 

“So what’s up?” she asked, trying, and failing, to not sound nervous. 

“I wondered where I should pick you up tonight,” he said. 

Relief sighed through her legs and she sunk onto the bed. “I was planning to meet you there.” 

“I can come pick you up,” he offered. There was no need for her to take the train when he could drive them. 

This was always an awkward conversation, but one she’d constructed with her therapist to ease her anxiety. If someone didn’t respect this, it was a sure sign she didn’t want to date them. “Quinn, you seem like a great guy, but I don’t want you to pick me up. I don’t know you very well.” 

A long pause passed over the phone. She wondered if she was going to have to explain this concept to him. 

Honestly, Quinn hadn’t heard that line in a long time. He knew from friends that women often did this to protect themselves, but something about his presence in the media made women trust him implicitly. He hadn’t taken advantage of that - he would never - but it had infiltrated his thoughts before, how easy it would be. 

She stood up for herself, and kept herself safe, and he respected her for that. “That makes sense,” he said.

It was so much easier than she’d been expecting, that Sarah had a hard time coming up with words.

“So I’ll meet you there?” he said when she didn’t say anything. 

“Great.”

“What time?” 

“Dinner starts at 6, so I figured like 6:15?” 

“Great. I’ll meet you out front?” 

“Sounds great.” 

They said some pleasant goodbyes and she flopped back on the bed. Karma was really seeing this one though. Nice, interested, a bit nerdy, and respectful, not to mention handsome, Sarah had hardly allowed herself to dream up a guy like Quinn. And now, here he was, suddenly in her life. A feeling like she’d just drunk champagne began to fizz in her stomach. A smile spread over her face as she hugged her pillow and set an alarm.  

Walking up to the theater, Quinn wiped his hands on his jeans, hoping he wasn’t about to revert back into a teenage boy with sweaty palms. He had to pee again. Nerves always shrunk his bladder. It hadn't happened in a game since he was ten, but other places - getting on a stage, press conferences, dates - always made him nervous. 

The theater was an old fashioned, stand alone cement building. A ticket booth complete with marquee lights sat between two sets of French doors. Sarah was already there, leaning against the wall, looking up at the building across the street. It surprised him she wasn't on her phone.

“Hey,” he said as he got closer. 

“Hi,” she said, meeting his eyes with a smile that made his stomach ache. Her lips were darker, making them stand out a little more. His eyes were drawn to them like a magnet. 

She slipped her arms around his neck for a hug. It felt so natural this time as he pulled her into his chest. 

As she broke away, she asked, “ready?”

He nodded, and she walked over to the ticket window, “I have a reservation for two under Roberts.”

The teenager working looked up from his phone. His gaze drifted past her. “You’re Quinn Hughes,” he said, mouth falling open.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder. 

“Hey, what’s up man?” Quinn said as if someone hadn’t just told him who he was. 

The employee - who couldn’t have been more than sixteen - was still staring at Quinn, even when he didn’t say anything else. 

“You’re coming to the show tonight?” he finally asked. 

Sarah had never felt so looked over in her life. It wasn’t that she was jealous. She would never want that kind of attention, but there was common decency not being met here. 

“We’re trying to,” she said, not unkindly, nudging him back to her reservation. 

The boy started. He blinked a few times before he said, “sorry, what was the name?” 

“Sarah Roberts.”

As they walked into the foyer. The ticket clerk slipped out of the booth, and came up to them, “hey man, I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I get an autograph? My girlfriend is a huge fan.” 

Quinn nodded, and reached for the paper and pen he held out. 

“Thanks so much, enjoy your show!” 

As soon as they turned around, a harried looking woman with flyaway strawberry blonde hair came rushing up to them. “Mr. Hughes, we’re so glad you can be with us tonight.” Apparently, Mr. “you’re Quinn Hughes” had spread the news. 

He gave her a polite smile. 

“I just wanted to let you know, we upgraded your reservations to one of our more private love seats in the back.”

“That’s very nice, but it’s not necessary,” he said, feeling embarrassed. Sarah was never going to go out with him again if their first date was under this much of a microscope. 

“Oh, no,” she said with a strained smile, “I insist.” 

Sarah looked up at him, wondering what was going to happen here. 

“Well, thank you,” he said, knowing that arguing would only draw more attention. So far, the other patrons were ignoring them, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“Let me show you to your new seats.” She led them to a plush couch tucked into the back of the theater. No neighbors and a perfect view of the screen. No one would even need to walk in front of them to get to the bar or the bathroom. 

“Thanks so much,” Sarah said. 

The woman walked away, and she turned to Quinn with wide eyes, “that was wild.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, his hand going to the back of his neck. 

“Does that happen a lot?”

He shrugged, “sometimes. Most people are pretty cool, though.” 

“I actually thought about reserving this, but it was like triple the price, and I’m on a grad school budget, so…” she trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she clasped her hands together.

“The seats we had before would have been great,” he said, “people make a fuss.” He knew this woman was probably hoping he would share the theater on his social media, but finding a place like this was hard enough. He didn’t want to ruin that by announcing it to the world. 

Desperate to change the subject, he said, “Thanks for finding this. I didn’t know it was even here.” 

“I didn’t either,” Sarah admitted, deciding they may as well enjoy the upgrade and sat down on the sofa. It was plush microfiber - incredibly soft to the touch - and very comfortable. It wasn’t like she was going to demand they go back to the standard seats she’d booked.

“How did you find it, then?” he asked, sitting next to her. 

“I overheard someone talking about it on the train and looked it up. It looked cool, so here we are.” 

He smiled at her, and her heart did a karate kick into her lungs. She sucked in a deep breath. 

They made their way to the bar to order dinner and drinks. Everything was on theme, including Sarah’s cocktail that came out glowing bright blue with smoke billowing off the surface. She laughed, looking truly delighted with it. It made Quinn want to kiss her. Not that he hadn’t been thinking about that since they’d met, but something about the pure joy in her face when the bartender handed it over made the impulse even stronger. 

The problem, she soon discovered, with the couch arrangement was the fact that their food and drinks ended up on the end tables - on opposite sides of the couch, making it nearly impossible to eat and have a conversation the way she wanted to. 

After turning around for her drink for the third time, she let out a frustrated sigh. “Here, will you hold this?” she asked, handing him her glass. 

Quinn accepted it and watched as she put her plate on the table, and moved it in front of the couch. She then tucked herself around it, and sat facing him, with one of her legs bent at the knee between them. 

“At least for now,” she said, taking her drink back and setting it on the relocated table. 

Quinn smiled. He never would have moved that table - too afraid to upset someone. He admired Sarah’s willingness to solve the issue at hand. 

Her drink was still smoking when he set his beer bottle next to it. She'd let out the most adorable giggle with the first sip, scrunching her nose at the feel of the smoke. 

“So, what made you choose Vancouver?” he asked, “I’m sure there are places in the States where you can study Marine Zoology.” 

She was instantly impressed that he remembered her degree. Most people got the marine part right, but assumed she was a biologist.  

“That’s kind of a long, complicated story, but basically, my mom died a year and a half ago and -” 

He cut in, “I’m sorry, Sarah.” 

“Thank you,” she gave him a sad smile. 

“Anyway, there’s a little more to it, but I ended up here because my uncle lives here. I wanted to study the ocean, but I had to be close to family, and the only family I had close to the ocean was here, so that kind of made my decision for me.”

Bracing herself for sympathy, she looked into his eyes, only to find a more open, understanding expression on his handsome face. “That sucks about your mom. My dad lost his mom when I was like two, and he still talks about how hard it was. I know it was really devastating for him. I can't imagine how it felt for you." 

She was so young - too young. She’d been his age. Even considering how long he'd been living away from his parents, it would be awful to lose his mom. She was the person he called for almost everything.

Tears pricked at her lower lashes. She blinked them away, busying herself with her drink to shut down that topic of conversation. 

He laughed when her nose scrunched up again. 

“I promise it’s really good,” she said, giggling, “the smoke just tickles.” 

“Sure,” he teased, then added, "it's actually really cute."

Her gaze caught on the amused set of his mouth, and lingered there for a beat too long. Tearing her eyes away, she asked, “what about you? Why Vancouver?” 

“Well, I was drafted here,” he said after swallowing his bite of salad. 

“So you didn’t have a choice?” 

“Yes and no. I toured and interviewed with a lot of clubs, and I liked it here along with a few other places. They knew how I felt, so they knew it would probably be a good fit. But the draft is always kind of a gamble. My brothers both went to New Jersey, which is pretty unheard of.” 

“Your brothers play hockey too?” 

He nodded. 

“How many of you are there?” 

“Just the three of us,” he said, “and a whole mess of cousins. What about you?” 

“I have an older sister and an older brother. They still live in Nevada, and they both have a bunch of kids. My brother married my sister's best friend, so they’re all really, really close.” 

She said it with a kind of sadness that Quinn knew well: a specific feeling that stemmed from your siblings being together while you were apart. Even though everyone was doing good things, it was still lonely to be the odd man out. 

“I get that,” he said. “My brothers live together in Jersey, and my grandad’s there too, so I feel pretty separate sometimes.”

It was strange to Sarah how much they had in common. Both from families of three siblings, both in Vancouver because of a mix of circumstance and choice, both understood familial loss to at least some extent. She had never met a man like him. 

The bartender announced the movie would start in 5 minutes. 

“I’m going to use the restroom,” she said. “Do you need anything on my way back?”

He shook his head. 

When she came back to their little corner of the theater, she found a refreshed drink on the end table. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Of course.” 

The movie started and it was instantly calming to her. Being there with Quinn felt like a special treat, like something out of a daydream.

When she lay her hand, palm up, in the small bit of love seat between them, Quinn was quick to pick it up, entwining their fingers. It felt a bit like he was fourteen again, just excited to hold a girl’s hand. He wanted to touch her all the time, but knew they weren’t there yet. He couldn’t wait to get to the point in the relationship when he could rest his hand on her thigh, or put an arm around her shoulders without it being a big deal. It felt so close, he could almost taste it. 

Leaning progressively closer throughout the movie, Quinn finally put his arm around her. He had to stop himself from celebrating when she rested her head on his shoulder. 

When the movie started winding down, Quinn began to wonder how exactly the end of the night was going to go. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but he didn’t want to do that in the theater or the foyer, where prying eyes and cell phone cameras were in abundance. Maybe he could ask her if they could walk to his car so he could kiss her there? Or maybe he could take her to her building's parking garage? Every way he thought about asking her sounded fucking creepy.

He was still caught in that internal debate when the movie ended and the house lights went up. How was he going to do this? He could just come out and tell her, but it made him sound paranoid and more than a little full of himself. 

“Could you walk me to the train station?” she asked, effectively ending his internal argument. 

He bit back the suggestion that he could just drive her home. “Yeah. Sure, of course,” he said. Maybe there would be a dim corner he could tuck them into and kiss her. 

The night air was cool, and humid when they stepped outside. Heart pounding, Sarah hoped he couldn’t feel it through their clasped hands. 

“You’ll have to lead the way,” he said. “I don’t really take the train.”

“No?” 

“Too many people.” 

While holding his hand was nice, Sarah’s mouth had felt empty with yearning all night. A deep longing to kiss him had been purring in her chest for over a week now, and seeing him made it rumble even louder. From the way she caught him glancing at her mouth throughout the night, it seemed like he felt the same way. 

There was a small, clean alleyway she’d spotted on her walk to the theater. As they passed it, she tugged him off the sidewalk, turned around so she could slide one hand over the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 

Quinn sucked in a sort of shocked breath at her forwardness. 

She pulled away just as he was registering what was happening and sinking into the kiss. 

Taking her hands back, a blush searing her cheeks, she said, “I’m sorry, that was really presumptuous of me.” Hoping she hadn't just ruined everything, She tried to not feel rejected. Had she been reading the signs wrong? 

“No,” Quinn said, his voice a little too loud. 

It was so strange to him that their physical connection, which had always been the easiest part of his past relationships, seemed to be the only thing they fumbled over. 

He cleared his throat, and slipped his hand up to cup her jaw, "no. I was just a little surprised.” 

Seeing the longing in his face when she looked into his eyes kicked hers back into gear, ready to squeal off the pavement. 

Leaning in closer, his breath caressed her lips as he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about this all week.” 

A shiver raced down her spine at his confession. “Me too." 

Pulling back just slightly, he looked into her face. It felt like he was standing at the edge of the most beautiful view he'd ever seen. He couldn't wait to jump over it. 

She tipped up, and he leaned down, and when their lips met, a gentle sigh passed between them. 

There was no awkwardness, no questioning of who would tip which way, or if it was too soon for tongue. No, Sarah just took advantage between kisses, and swept her tongue into his open mouth. He responded in kind, sliding his tongue along hers. 

Her hands found their way into his hair in an attempt to pull him closer. The soft noise he gasped into her mouth made her fingertips tingle with a heady sense of satisfaction. Molten desire dripped into her veins.

Quinn let all his other thoughts fall away in favor of savoring this moment. He wanted to commit every second of it to memory. She tasted like the tart syrup used in her cocktail, and the smooth sweetness of the rum. Coupled with the vanilla, woodsy scent of her perfume, and her soft, skilled tongue, it was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever experienced. He never wanted to stop. 

The world fell away. 

Then, it came crashing back. 

"Get a room!" someone yelled from the group of teenagers walking by. 

He pulled away, just enough that he could feel her panting breaths rushing over his lips. He didn't want to let the moment slip away. Not when it had been so perfect. 

"Can I make you dinner on Saturday?" he asked, still feeling a little breathless.

She paused, and he realized what he'd just implied. God, he wasn't thinking straight. 

Pulling back, he rushed to explain, "I can bring it with me to a park or something. I just want to see you again." 

A smile broke over her face, "I want to see you again, too." 

Simple, straight to the point. Quinn felt some of his anxiety drop away. 

"I'll think about where, but definitely yes to dinner." 

He beamed. 

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