#maybe one day woody... one day

[ballcrusher74]

Normal people asking to live w u vs Woody

Fencer is the ideal head nutcracker (as you said in another post implies he's a leader of sorts) and Woody admires and wants that sort of order and security in his life<3 Homie wants to be his sugar plum fairy

he's still in denial

[haghottie420]

Damn this was prob my fav ep of true detective

[zackfairmutual]

saw howl's moving castle in a theater tonight

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

[sunkissedrafe]

bffs w rafe and he’s obsessed w you. wakes you up by sneaking into your room and yall do stuff 🤭

Locked

summary: the request above!:)

word count: 3.3k

(SPOILERS) warnings: somnophilia(sleeping), dubcon, p in v, fingering, male masturbation, secretive photos, breaking and entering, unprotected sex. MDNI!

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

You really don’t know how it all happened the way it did.

The way Rafe took you under his wing all those years ago. The way he’s constantly glued to your side, going as far as attending parties full of pogues, sticking out like a sore thumb while he marches around, grabbing you another beer when you need it or shooing away the belligerent drunk men trying to hit on you.

Things like this aren’t the norm.

Boys like him just aren’t friends with girls like you. He’s used to a life of luxury; boats, tropical vacations, the most expensive clothes made of materials you can’t even pronounce.

You consider yourself lucky if your water isn’t shut off when you got home after a long day of sweating and panting in the heat.

But the world works in crazy ways, and Rafe Cameron is your best friend.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The two of you sit on the edge of your bed, controllers in hand as you peer up at the screen with wide eyes.

“No, no… Rafey!” You squeal as the screen flashes, letting your head drop down, your hair falling across your face with a huff.

He chuckles smugly. “What, kid?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a sly grin written across his face and amusement laced into his voice.

“You said you’d let me win this round.” You mumble, dropping the controller onto the plush rug below your feet.

“What the point in that?” He laughs as he pushes himself to stand. “Like… how would that even be any fun?” He moves in front of you and nudges your forehead with his fingers so that you look up. You trail your gaze up to his own, his blonde wispy hair brushing his brows. “Quit bein’ a baby.” He gives your jaw a light, playful tap.

You flutter your eyes at him before giving him a scowl, falling onto your back and staring at the ceiling as his footsteps audibly trail across your room.

You hear him fumbling with something near your window and turn your head to the side, raising your brows as he turns around holding your planter with a cactus you’ve nearly killed from incorrectly watering it.

“Look at this poor thing,” he chuckles, turning the planter around and examining the plant. “You’ll never have a green thumb.” He laughs and sits the plant down where he found it, patting his pockets as he walks away from his spot.

You sit up and watch as he settles near your bedroom door and grabs his tennis shoes, bending down to pull them over his feet.

“Leaving already?” You ask meekly, already dreading the feeling of his absence though he still stands in the room with you.

“Yeah, gotta go.” He lets out a long sigh as he stands back up to his full height and leans against the door frame. “Got some shit to work through with my dad tonight. I’ll see you soon though.” He walks over to where you sit, grabbing your hands gingerly to help you to your feet. “There’s talks of a party this weekend, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Consider me your plus one.” He mumbles into your hair. His strong arms wrap around your waist and hold you flush against his body, his woody aroma flooding your senses.

You can feel his warm palms through the thin fabric of your shirt. They slide around your body as he pulls away from the embrace, taking home on your hips with a light squeeze. You glance up and his blue eyes are already locked onto yours, a grin pulling at the dimples of his cheeks.

“Maybe… practice the game a little bit until then, hm?” He speaks lowly.

“Rafe Cameron!” You shout, slapping at his chest as he puts his hands up in defense, chuckling as he steps back.

“Let me know when to pick you up.” He gives you one final grin before shutting your door gently.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but you took Rafe’s advice to heart and stayed awake as long as your eyes would stay open- practicing that damn game.

You lay peacefully, breathing deep and smoothly atop your blankets with the controller still loosely in your right hand. Your headset is still somehow on your head, softly playing the background music from the loading screen as you hadn’t had a chance to shut it off before your eyes gave out.

You don’t even stir when Rafe slides your window open, being as careful as he can to avoid the glass planter on your windowsill as he creeps into the warmth of your room. He carefully slides the glass shut once more, bringing a shaky hand up and flipping the latch, locking the window that he had made sure was unlocked earlier unbeknownst to you.

I can’t be crazy, she definitely wants me too. Right?

He turns around with a breath held deep in his lungs, praying to any god he can that the floorboards won’t creak beneath his shoes and that his best friend wouldn’t be awake.

His gaze falls onto your sleeping body, soft and still, and he slowly lets out the breath he had been holding in. The light from the screen illuminates your skin, glowing with the different colored hues as it flashes. He takes discreet, soundless steps towards you as he allows his eyes to rake over your figure.

Your hair is beautifully messy, strewn around on the pillow that you lay back against. He pays close attention to your tiny fingers that lazily wrap around the handle of the controller, one arm draped above your head and the other laid out to the side. He peers at your stomach, watching it rise and fall as you breathe.

His eyes wander up. You’re clad in the same tank top you’d been in when he left, but the way your nipples strain against the thin fabric just begging to be touched leads him to the conclusion that you ditched the bra.

It’s like she wants me to look.

I’ll look. I won’t touch her. I’ll look and leave. And then we’ll never think or speak about this again.

He takes microscopic steps toward your bed, his heart pounding against his sternum. His knees graze the edge of the mattress as he closes in on you and he gasps lightly, backing up so he doesn’t cause the bed to dip.

His face turns red, veins protruding from his skin as he holds in every ounce of oxygen he can to lean down beside you, placing his ear next to the side of your headset. He smirks to himself when he hears the music in the speakers, standing back to his full height.

He shoves a hand into his back pocket, fishing around and digging for his phone. He pulls it out and opens his camera, holding it up for the best angle and capturing a perfect image of his clueless best friend asleep in bed.

She doesn’t know how perfect she is.

Something inside of him wants more, wants to touch every inch he can. But he can’t, he has a goal and a plan. Get in and look then get the fuck out.

What would a couple more pictures hurt?

It’s like he moves in slow motion, he can’t control it as he reaches out and grabs the bottom hem of your tank top. You’d think he was performing brain surgery as he inches it up, exposing more and more of the fleshy skin of your abdomen. He wants to brush his fingertips along your skin, to feel every part of you along the way, but he can’t rush this.

Get the picture and go.

He watches as your plump tits spill out from the fabric, jiggling into place and sitting atop your chest, fully bared to him. His breath hitches and he pulls his hand away, gulping as your lashes flutter ever so slightly. You stir for a moment but you stay asleep.

A wave of relief floods through his body and he lifts his phone again, shakily clicking the shutter button. He takes so many more photos than necessary, moving and catching all the angles of your perfect breasts.

It’s like he loses himself. His pulse surges in his ears, beating so loud he’s almost convinced you can hear it over the music. His body betrays his logical mind and before he knows it, his fingertips brush over your delicate skin. He lets out a groan, feeling his pants tighten against his crotch as he moves to touch the other nipple.

To his surprise, your eyes remain closed and the rhythm of your breathing stays steady.

He swipes his phone over to the video setting, hitting the record button as he palms the fat of your tits, letting his fingertips dig into the skin lightly. His veiny hand explores your chest as the camera picks up all the evidence. He allows his hand to slide down the valley of your breasts, slipping across to your ribcage and down to your hip before he stops dead in his tracks.

This is too much of a risk, you’re being fucking crazy.

He stops his recording and shoves his phone back away into his pocket, biting his lip as he scans your body one last time.

Your body reacts to the loss of heat quickly. Your brows furrow and your cherry tinted lips form into a pout. Your legs stretch and move as your busy subconsciously tries to find a more comfortable position. Your leg falls to the side and your head turns the opposite way.

Rafe is frozen solid the entire time, too scared to even blink. He stays that way for a couple minutes, feet locked into his spot and watching you closely for any signs of rousing from your slumber.

But to his surprise, you don’t. You stay blissfully unconscious, your tits still exposed to him.

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until it’s too late. His cock throbs in the palm of his hand as he grips the base, choking back groans as he begins to slowly pump his length.

This isn’t bad, right? It’s just jacking off. I’m a man and she’s got a nice rack. She would understand.

He bites his tongue and presses it into his cheek as he tightens his grip around his needy member. His tip is red and weeping, streams of precum oozing out and dripping down the rolling veins that decorate his shaft.

He slowly inches closer, dragging his feet across the floor as he speeds up his needy movements. The muscles in his forearm tense and ripple as he desperately pumps himself, waves of dopamine shooting throughout his bloodstream as he stands beside your sleeping body.

I’m fucking sick.

He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help it. He reaches out and lets his hand run up your smooth calf, shuddering at the contrast of the smooth skin against the rough pads of his fingers. They trail up carelessly to the expanse of your thighs and he has to hold back the animalistic urge to squeeze your skin.

Come on Rafe, stop it. Stop here.

His internal battle proves itself to be irrelevant as he does in fact squeeze the skin, his other hand giving his pulsing cock the same amount of pressure.

His breath hitches in his throat and he feels like any composure he’s had is long gone.

He brings his hand up and pulls your shorts to the side, not even caring about the audible moan that falls from his lips when he takes in the sight of your wet pussy.

He bites his lip until he tastes the metallic tinge of blood, sliding his hand up and down his cock as his thumb brushes over your clit with featherlight pressure.

You begin to stir, your body jolted by the foreign feeling, but he doesn’t seem to care. He lets the pad of his thumb press down onto the tender bundle and slide down to your entrance, dipping into your sweet center. He pulls back and traces his index finger across your wet slit before pushing in.

“Sh..shit…” he speaks aloud, sitting onto the mattress.

The sudden shift causes you to snap your eyes open, your vision hazy as it adjusts to the light. Before you can even form a coherent thought you’re suddenly aware of the pressure inbetween your legs. You blink harshly, clearing your eyes of the remaining haze and look up to see two blue eyes staring back at you.

His mouth is moving but you can’t make out his words.

Sitting up abruptly, you scoot back and rip the headset off of yourself, tossing it haphazardly into the floor.

“Rafe?” You squeal in shock, your pulse pumping wildly through your veins.

“Shhh.. sweetheart. Please!” He nearly begs, scooting closer to you. “You’ll wake your whole family.”

You look down and notice his right fist gripping around his cock.

“Just relax, okay?” He whispers.

He hooks his finger into your gummy walls and you let out a strained gasp, looking down to see your best friend knuckle deep in your pussy.

“R-rafe… what a-” you choke on your words as he withdraws his finger and plunges back in.

“It’s okay… shhh.. feels good, doesn’t it?” He murmurs, moving his thumb up to rub circles onto your swollen clit.

Your fatigue ridden brain is having trouble keeping up as waves of confusion and pleasure spread throughout your body.

“It… I don- fuck. W-what are you doing here?” You whine, your hips instinctively bucking closer to his hand despite your best judgement.

“Just wanted to look at you.” He croaks as he resumes his jerking motions on himself. “Then I… I just couldn’t help myself.”

The desperation in his eyes shouldn’t turn you on. The way you woke up to your best friend touching your body shouldn’t turn you on.

But even still you find yourself rhythmically grinding against his hand, dropping every single question from your mind as his finger brushes against a sensitive knot in your core.

“Yeah, there you go.” He coos, scooting closer to you and releasing his grip on his erection to paw at your tits. “So fucking pretty. Wanted to put them in my mouth so bad.”

“So do it.” You say before you can even think, reaching up to rid yourself of the fabric that served no purpose anymore.

A smirk grows from ear to ear before he leans forward, cupping the area right below your breast and right above your ribcage to push your skin into his mouth. He doesn’t stop the curling movement of his finger, he adds another one into your now drenched pussy as he sucks and licks at your nipple. You can’t help but arch your back into him, using both of your shaking arms to keep yourself propped up. He hums and groans against your skin as he removes his fingers from your core and hooks a strong arm around you, ridding you of the struggle and pulling you into his lap.

“Let me fuck you.” He whispers against your neck as he leaves hot open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin.

You do nothing but nod eagerly, lifting yourself off enough to pull your shorts off in a rushed motion, him yanking his jeans and boxers down in the process. He reaches behind his head to grip the neckline of his shirt and toss it to the side. He grips the base of his cock as you sit back down and slaps it against your core, making you shudder at the sting it leaves on your aching clit.

He holds himself steady as you line his head up with your entrance, slowly sinking down to take in his length. The stretch is blissfully painful, and you take your time to let yourself adjust to him. One of his hands settles on your hip and encourages you down while the other rests against your throat, not adding pressure but leaving a tingling burn where it sits. When you sit fully down his head falls back and his fingers dig into your skin, gripping around your hipbone.

“So… so fucking big.” You sigh, rolling your hips back and forth.

His ego visibly inflates and he nods slyly. “I know. And look at you taking every fucking inch.”

A strained whine digs its way from deep in your chest and echoes off the walls as you lift yourself up and sink back down. His thick cock pushes against your clenching walls and fills you up beyond what you’d ever thought was possible. You get your rhythm and start bouncing up and down, crying out each time his tip kisses your cervix.

“Gotta be quiet, baby doll. Your parents would never let me over again if they knew I was fucking their little innocent princess like this.” He whispers and runs his fingers over your bottom lip, eyes widening when you accept them and let him lay them flat across your tongue.

You hum around his digits and whimper when he bucks his hips up to meet your own, sending a shockwave through your core. He takes notices and does it over and over, a satisfied glint apparent in his hooded eyes.

Your walls contract and squeeze around his throbbing length as the tension in your stomach threatens to snap. You flash your doe eyes at him and swirl your tongue around his fingers as he pounds into you from below, every ragged breath that falls from his mouth fanning across your skin.

“You’re close.” He says matter of factly. “Give it to me.”

He moves the hand on your hip to the space where the two of you meet, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit. You’re coming undone around him before you have time to utter a response, biting down on his knuckles and clawing at the skin of his chest. The pleasure tears through you like a wildfire, every synapse in your brain firing and focused on the orgasmic relief Rafe is giving you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and moves both hands to your hips, lifting you up and down like a toy as he ruts into your pussy. “Gonna let me cum in you? Let me.” He grits his teeth as if he’s holding back. “Tell me to cum in you.”

“R-rafe, please.. cum in me. Don’t want you to pull out.”

With the dirty confirmation he craved, he releases, spilling hot white ropes of cum into you and painting every inch of your walls. You feel his warmth flood your core and you slump against his chest, rocking with every deep breath he heaves.

You sit like this for a while, sweaty and sticky and fucked out as he lazily runs his hands up and down your bare back. The beat of his heart against his chest is almost enough to put you back to sleep, but you whine when he lifts you off of his body and sits you back in your original position against your pillows. You sit in silence as he collects his clothes and redresses, smoothing his hair with his hands.

He slowly makes his way back to the bed and uses an arm to keep himself steady as he leans down and places a lingering kiss to your temple. He stands up without a word and walks to your window, undoing the latch and pushing it up. He turns around with a smirk and a deep chuckle before he crouches down.

“Gotta make sure to keep this thing locked.”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist: @stepbrorafe @bunnycvnts @hewwokitti3 @pinkribboncoco @rafesgiirl @beautifuldisaster88

[harryslittlefreakk]

just between us

summary: when y/ns life starts to fall apart, her boss is there to pick up the pieces… behind his wife’s back. nanny reader x ceorry

warnings: cheating, smut (foreplay, soft dom, sex, daddy kink), angst

wordcount: 5.2k

a/n: the plot of this is so loose lol, please don’t read if you want a masterpiece 😭 it was a really fun one to write enjoy <3

*not proofread because i stayed up until 2.30am to write and post this*

thank you so much for reading 🤍 MASTERLIST

You curled your legs up to your chest, the evening breeze doing little to soothe the ache in your chest. The last of the day’s sunshine lingered in pale pinks and oranges amongst the clouds, blurring together as you stared out into the night.

The drink in your hand, a mix of something strong and sweet, was meant to numb the feeling, but it only seemed to deepen your sense of isolation. You raised the glass to your lips, letting your head roll back as the burn slid down your throat, your thoughts going a million miles an hour.

It had been sudden, unexpected. The words still echoed in your mind, as if they were stuck on repeat. How could something that once felt so sure, so safe, suddenly fall apart? You clenched the glass a little tighter, the cool condensation dampening your hand.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the sliding door open or the soft footsteps approaching. It wasn’t until you caught a familiar scent - a mix of woody cologne and something uniquely him - that you realised you weren’t alone.

You turned slightly, rushing to pull the blanket higher over your chest to cover your bikini top. Harry was standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you with the same furrowed brow wore when he knew something was wrong.

“Sorry, Harry. I didn’t think anyone would be home tonight,” you whispered, placing your drink down on the table. The whole family was meant to be away for the week, a trip that not only gave you some time off, but something that was now timed quite well since you had the week to mend your broken heart.

“I had to come back early for a meeting, Anna was meant to call. Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, a forced smile playing on your lips. “No, of course not.”

Harry sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not so close that it felt intrusive. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat there in silence, staring out at the fading light. There was something comforting in his presence, in the way he didn’t rush you to talk or try to fill the silence with empty words.

After a moment, he glanced over at your drink and then back at your face. “Rough day?”

Your lips curled into a bitter smirk, your fingers pushing through your hair. “You could say that.”

He nodded, as if he understood exactly what you meant, and maybe he did. Harry had always been good at reading between the lines, at knowing when someone was hurting even when they didn’t want to show it.

You looked over at him, his slacks perfectly creased down the centre, his shirt buttons loosened. You couldn’t deny that he was attractive, with his chiseled body and messy brown curls. But he was your boss. You were his son’s nanny, and you’d built a close relationship with his wife. You never allowed yourself to see him that way.

But when he showed so much love and care for you, it became borderline impossible not to blur the lines.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he offered, pulling you out of your thoughts. “But if you do, I’m here.”

He scooted closer, leaning his elbows on his knees as if he was incredibly interested in what you had to say. Harry always had a way of making you feel seen, recognising your needs faster than you recognised them in yourself. As a boss and a friend, he was a whole lot more than you bargained for.

Under his gaze, the weight of the day suddenly felt too heavy to carry alone. “Sam broke up with me,” you muttered, not wanting to admit it.

Sam had been the final piece of the puzzle, the last thing that needed to slot into place for your life to be full and worthwhile. The day that he’d proposed to you was the single most important day of your life. He was your everything. Until he’d phoned you earlier that day to tell you that he wasn’t sure that he loved you, and he wasn’t sure he ever would.

Harry didn’t react immediately. He just nodded again, taking in your words. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his voice sincere.

You shrugged, though the motion felt hollow. “It’s probably for the best,” you whispered, though the pain in your chest told you that you didn’t fully believe that yet.

You finished the rest of your drink, the burn of the alcohol replacing the sting of heartbreak and failure. Your eyes closed, the reality starting to wash over you.

Harry reached out, placing his hand gently over yours on the table. The warmth of his touch was grounding, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You don’t have to be strong,” he said quietly.

That simple reassurance, the permission to not have it all together, was enough to crack the fragile composure you’d been clinging to. You laced your fingers through his as if you needed the stability, your eyes filling with tears before you could stop yourself. Harry didn’t say anything, just held your hand and let you cry, something steady and comforting in his presence.

When the tears finally slowed, you wiped her eyes with the blanket, feeling a little embarrassed but also lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “Sorry,” you murmured, your voice still thick with emotion.

Harry squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he replied.

You sat there for a while longer, the silence between you both now filled with some sort of understanding. The sky had darkened, the first stars beginning to twinkle above your heads. You took the last sip of your drink, this time letting the sweetness linger on your tongue, and for the first time that evening, you felt a small spark of hope flicker inside you.

“Another one?” Harry asked, nudging his head towards your empty glass.

You nodded, easing yourself out of the chair on unsteady legs. Whiskey on an empty stomach had your head spinning, but you weren’t sure that was the only reason. You were evil. Despicable, even. Turning your heartbreak into lust for a man that had showed you nothing but kindness, allowed you into his life as more than an employee, a man who’s family was special to you.

But his hand on your knee, the way he brushed away your tears with that gentle touch. You couldn’t think straight, let alone walk straight as you tiptoed into the kitchen.

You opened the whiskey with a pop as Harry’s body came up behind you. His abs rock hard against your skin, his bulge pressing into the small of your back. His arm came beside you, placing your glass on the marble countertop.

“Forgot your glass,” he murmured, making no attempt to step away. You turned against him, his jaw tight as he stared down at you.

You were frozen, doe-eyed and open mouthed as you looked up at him, the dark concern on his face morphed into something more.

“You need to learn how you’re supposed to be treated,” Harry drawled, his forearm slipping behind you and lifting you onto the countertop in one swift motion.

His knee nudged between your legs, opening them up for his body to fit inside. Your head fell back against the cupboard door as he bucked his hips into your core, the fabric between you both just thin enough for you to feel almost everything.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Harry whispered, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. “Like you’ve wanted this all along.”

The whimper you let out was almost pitiful, a sure sign to Harry that you were losing the battle with your morality. When you wrapped your calf around his waist, tugging him closer to you, he just about lost it.

“Your wi-”, you started, your voice barely a whisper, like you didn’t actually want Harry to hear you. You didn’t want him to think about her, to come back to his senses and realise what he was about to do. But he didn’t even let you finish.

He tugged at the straps of your bikini top, the sudden chill as he exposed you enough to make you fall into silence.

“Doesn’t need to know anything,” Harry finished for you. “If this is want you want.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand to cover the curve of your breast. “It is, Harry.”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes still fixed on yours. “Do you need to feel better, princess?”

“Please,” you panted, slipping a finger through his belt buckle, desperate for some relief from the pleasure that was already building up inside you.

“Please what?” Harry whispered, leaning down to press his lips to your nipple, the soft bud immediately warmed by his mouth.

“Please Daddy,” you corrected, the last syllable turning into a long, deep whine when he finally gave you what you wanted.

He pulled your legs tight around his waist, your arms snapping over his shoulders as he lifted you from the counter and carried you upstairs to your bedroom.

Your core was rubbing against the fabric of his shirt with every step, your panties becoming more and more uncomfortable the closer you got to your room.

Harry eased you down to your feet when he reached your bedroom door, your core sliding over his erection.

He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth at the contact, his hands fumbling with the door handle. You pushed it open, letting him guide you to the edge of the bed where Harry nudged you to sit.

He sank to his knees in front of you, his hands immediately finding your knees, tracing circles and patterns up your thighs, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. You leaned back on your hands, panting even before he made an attempt to give you any real pleasure.

His thumb dragged over the wet spot on your bikini bottoms, pressing the fabric against your entrance. The contact made you writhe, your clit aching for more.

When he slipped two fingers under the fabric and pushed them into you, you were completely at his mercy, whining loudly as he immediately found your sweet spot.

You looked down at him through clouded eyes, and that recognised that same, torn look you’d seen flash across his face before. But now you recognised it as a hunger, borderline desperation to have you in a way that would destroy everything he’d worked for.

But you didn’t have time to question it, to fall apart over the way his gaze trailed over your body, the sparkle against the deep green of his irises, because suddenly he was everywhere, his lips warm and insistent against your skin, his free hand groping and roaming anywhere he could reach, his fingers fucking in and out of you with pure determination.

You were his, all his, as Harry leaned down to lick a circle around your clit, before pulling his fingers from you and kissing and licking at you with persistence. His mouth was fast and firm against your core, his moans vibrating around you as he let your juices pool on his tongue.

His nose was nudging against your clit, his hands cupping the curve of your ass to open you up for him. The pleasure had built to a deep ache, spilling out of you in the form of whines and moans, but Harry was unrelenting in his pursuit of your high. He kept licking and sucking, grabbing and groping until you came apart on his tongue, your body going rigid under the strain of such an intense orgasm.

“You need to learn how you’re supposed to be treated, kitten,” Harry murmured, his voice muffled as he kissed over your mound, his lips warm and wet.

You pulled yourself to sit up straight, reaching for his belt buckle with desperation. “Show me, daddy,” you whined, pouting as he pushed your hands away and got to work undressing himself.

He nodded his head towards your pillows, a silent command for you to get yourself ready for him as he pushed his slacks down.

You could see the outline of his erection through his boxers, the material stretched tight over the monster he’d been hiding. You’d expected him to be big, but you weren’t even sure that he would fit inside of you.

You kept your eyes locked on his body as you scooted back, your mouth hanging slightly open. You’d seen him like this before, in his shorts in the pool or topless as he barbecued, but knowing he was undressing for you, to fuck you into complete and utter bliss, you were spiralling.

You wanted him to fuck you everywhere, in every way. Bent over the kitchen counter, in the pool, his cock hitting the back of your throat until you were begging for relief, his mouth and hands touching you until they became one with your flesh.

At some point during your daydream, Harry had fully undressed, his cock dangerously hard as he knelt between your legs.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he drawled, swiping a finger through your slick before bringing it to your lips, his free hand stroking at his length.

You opened your mouth a little wider to let him in, your lips immediately wrapping around his knuckle as your tongue swirled around his fingertip, your nectar sweet on your tastebuds.

The movement elicited a low groan from Harry, his hips bucking into his hand, and without any warning, he was pushing into you with a sharp ache in your walls, his hands planted either side of your head.

Your arms immediately snapped to his shoulders, steadying yourself against him with a gasp, your pussy throbbing as his cock stretched you.

“More, Harry, please,” you whimpered, wrapping your calf around his hips, tugging him impossibly closer to you.

He brushed a stray hair from your face, pulling out of you slightly before easing his way back in, your walls rippling around his tip.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly.

You opened your mouth as he slammed back into you, his skin slapping against yours as his name left your mouth in a strangled cry.

His hand came around your throat, squeezing just enough to give you that rush of excitement and risk, the pain melding with your pleasure. He was pulling out faster, fucking into you with relentless determination, setting a pace that you had no hope of following. You were putty in his hands, submissive and yielding as he thrust into you.

Your walls were getting tighter, clamping around the strain of his girth as the beginnings of an orgasm started rolling through your core. “I can feel you struggling, princess,” Harry warned, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. He could see in your eyes how much you liked it, how you wanted to lay there and take whatever he gave you. You knocked your hips into his, unable to speak through whimpers and whines, starting to lose control as the tingles spread through your centre, your inner muscles pulsing around his cock.

“Cum for me, milk me like the little cum slut you are,” Harry groaned, leaning down to pull your nipple into his mouth, his tongue warm and desperate as it rolled over the bud.

His cock hitting every inch of you, nudging your g-spot and every other part of your core, your nipple hard between his lips, his hand wrapped around your neck, his body dwarfing you - it was too much to handle, too much to cope with even without his filthy words. You were cumming before you could even think twice, the pleasure rolling over you in waves, reaching every part of your body. Your fingers curled into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp, collecting his curls in their grasp. Your legs were tight and rigid against his skin, your back arching off of the mattress. You were crying out his name, every inch of you throbbing as your vision blurred into stars and static.

But Harry was still fucking into you, still licking and sucking at your breast, still restricting your air with that big, strong hand, until you felt his cock jerking, twitching against your walls and the ribbons of hot cum painting you, marking you as his. He didn’t slow down until he was empty, everything he had to give dripping from you as he pulled out slowly, until he finally collapsed beside you.

You lay in silence for a while, chests heaving as you panted in sync, before Harry sat up to collect his clothes. It felt dirty, wretched, having him fuck you like that in a room that shared a wall with his sons, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than pure bliss.

Even as he picked up his clothes and left the room without saying another word to you, you were on another planet, totally lost in the comedown of the most intense orgasm you’d ever had.

—

You woke the next morning with a sinking feeling in your stomach, the memory of the previous evening replaying over and over and over. You stared at the ceiling, the weight of what had happened settling in. Harry had kissed her, and she had kissed him back—without hesitation, without thinking about anything else but the moment. Your sheets still smelled like him, your body still aching from the way he’d fucked you.

But the reality hit like a wave, devastation washing over you. Harry was married. You were single, heartbroken, and you’d come close to getting yourself fired and kicked out of your home on top of that. You sat up, pressing your hands to your temples, trying to push away the guilt that had crept in overnight.

You forced yourself out of bed, moving through your morning routine on autopilot. The house was quiet, too quiet, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. You had no idea if Harry was still around or if he’d left early, but you knew you weren’t ready to face him yet. At least no one else would be home, leaving you the chance to figure things out in your own time.

You padded downstairs, the kitchen feeling too bright, too normal for the reality you’d found yourself in. Every sound seemed magnified - the clink of your mug against the counter, the hum of the fridge - while your thoughts raced, a tangle of emotions you couldn’t quite sort out.

Was the night before a way for Harry to cheer you up - just a mistake, a lapse in judgment? Or was it something more, something neither of them could admit out loud? You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung like the humidity in the air.

You were pouring a cup of coffee when the sound of keys in the front door made your stomach drop. You froze, your heart hammering violently against your ribs. Turning slowly, you found Harry standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He hesitated, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, eyes locked on each other.

“Morning,” he finally said, his voice softer than usual.

“Hi, Harry,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut through.

Harry stepped further into the kitchen, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “About last night…” he began, trailing off as if he wasn’t sure how to continue.

You felt your chest tighten. You wanted to say something, to ease the awkwardness between you both, but the words caught in the back of your throat. Instead, you just nodded, fingers gripping the edge of the very counter where this had all started.

“It was-”, Harry paused, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I shouldn’t have…” His voice faltered, guilt flickering across his features.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Harry, you’re married,” you said quietly, the truth of it hanging in the air between them.

“I know,” he replied, his tone heavy with regret. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You nodded again, feeling like you needed to be anywhere but there. The awkwardness between you felt like a chasm now, one they couldn’t easily bridge. “It’s not just on you,” you admitted. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Harry edged a little closer, only his footsteps and the hum of the coffee machine cutting through the silence. You could tell that the weight of what had happened was pressing down on him. At the realisation, you felt a pang of sadness, a dull ache in her chest that told you things would never be the same between you both. They couldn’t be.

“I think it’s best if we just-” Harry started, then stopped, struggling to find the right words. “If we can try to move past it. Go back to how things were before. But I understand if you’d rather find something else. I have contacts, I can-”

“No, Harry,” you interrupted. “I’d prefer to stay here if I can. If that’s okay.”

You knew he was right, but the idea of pretending nothing had happened felt impossible. Still, your job was important to you, and you didn’t actually have to spend that much time with Harry.

He offered a weak smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll be okay,” he said, more as a reassurance to himself than to you.

But as he left the kitchen, you weren’t so sure. Last night had changed something between you both, something that couldn’t be undone. And as much as you both wanted to pretend otherwise, you both had agreed to continue as you always had, the truth of it would always be there, lingering in the space between you.

—

You were curled up on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over her legs as you half-watched the movie playing on the TV. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering screen and a nearby lamp. You’d picked a rom-com, hoping it would distract you from the turmoil swirling in your mind.

The whole day had been weird, with Harry working from home but spending significantly more time locked in his office than he usually did. You’d wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to avoid you, but you didn’t even know if he was. Any time you’d crossed paths had lead to strained silences and forced politeness, the easy rapport you once shared miles away.

You sighed, trying to focus on the movie, but the memory of your night together kept intruding. He’d shown you more care and respect than Sam ever had, his hands and that mouth trailing over every part of your body, worshipping you as if you’d been crafted by the Gods.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, half wishing you could just disappear as Harry appeared in the doorway. His presence filled the room, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Hi,” you smiled, your heart quickening. You shifted slightly on the sofa, trying to make room, though you weren’t sure if you were ready for another encounter.

“Can I?” Harry asked, gesturing to the spot next to you.

You hesitated, but only for a second, before nodding and patting the sofa to your right.

Harry sat down, leaving a careful distance between them. You both turned your attention to the screen, though the tension in the room was palpable. You could feel the awkwardness settling in, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the fact that Harry was inches away from you for the first time that day, and you’d just been fully engrossed in a mental re-enactment of the night before.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned to him, your voice low. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

Harry let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it is. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it less weird, but I’m not sure how.”

You nodded, your eyes drifting over his face.

“I value our working relationship, y/n, the things you do for our family,” Harry told you, reaching out to pause the movie.

You appreciated his honesty, but the reality of the situation still weighed heavily on you. “I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, Harry. You’re my boss, and your family-” you sighed. “It’s just complicated things.”

“I crossed a line, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry for that. But I don’t regret anything,” Harry confessed, something conflicted in his eyes.

You swallowed hard, your words caught in your throat. You couldn’t reply, couldn’t tell him that you didn’t regret it either.

Harry turned back to the movie after a moment, the tension between you both easing up. It wasn’t gone, but the room suddenly felt warmer. He leaned back into the sofa, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same.

He shifted slightly closer, closing some of the distance between you. You noticed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. You let herself relax, resting her head against the back of the sofa as you watched the movie together, side by side. There was an undercurrent between them that neither could ignore, reminiscent of some kind of world where he wasn’t your boss, wasn’t happily married, and could be yours.

You’d felt it even before, every time you were alone in the same room, a tension that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to spill over. You could see it in the way Harry looked at you sometimes, his gaze lingering just a bit too long, his voice dropping a little softer whenever he spoke your name. It was there in the moments when your hands would accidentally brush, sending a jolt of electricity through you that you struggled to hide.

You were lost in your thoughts when Harry’s arm brushed against yours. You could feel the heat of him, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you, clouding your mind.

Your breath caught in your throat, and when you glanced over, you found Harry looking at you, his face closer than you’d expected. His eyes were intense, searching yours for something you weren’t sure you could give. The moment stretched, the silence between you both heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice rough around the edges, as if he were struggling to hold something back.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “We said-”

“I know,” he interrupted, his brow furrowed, voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if you were both trying to make up for the time lost denying what you wanted.

You melted into him, any resolve crumbling under the weight of your own desire. You’d told yourself it couldn’t happen again - wouldn’t happen again - that it was too complicated, too messy, but now, with Harry’s hand cupping your face, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that left her breathless, all those reasons seemed to vanish.

He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as if he couldn’t get enough, and you responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his curls as you gave in to everything you had been trying to push away. It was reckless, dangerous even, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was how right it felt, how much you had needed it, and needed him.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Harry’s hands were still on you, his touch lingering, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, his voice small. “I know we said we wouldn’t. I don’t know why I-”

“None of this is fair on anyone, Harry,” you whispered, your hand dropping to his shoulder. Your gaze fell to the wall behind you, covered in beautiful family photos. His wedding, nights out, his arms cradling a newborn baby. The reality of the situation loomed over you, a stark reminder that this wasn’t just about what they wanted. “We can’t keep acting like we’re the victims here.”

“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “But it doesn’t feel like a mistake.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink in. You were both standing on the edge of something that could change everything, and once you crossed that line again, there would be no going back.

When you opened your eyes, you found Harry looking at you, his expression a mix of hope and nervousness. It was a look that mirrored your own conflicted feelings, torn between what was right and what you wanted.

“It doesn’t,” you admitted, hating even hearing the words coming out of your mouth. “But where does that leave us?”

Harry was silent for a moment, his gaze steady as he pulled you closer to him. “I don’t know,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s something we have to figure out.”

The room was still and silent, the gravity of everything you had done settling in. But despite the uncertainty, a small sense of relief bubbled below the surface. You’d crossed a line, yes, but you had done it together. And you were happy to kid yourself that you’d find a way forward, even if it wasn’t clear yet what that path would look like.

For now, you let yourself be held by Harry, allowing yourself to savour the feeling of his strong arms around you, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the undeniable truth that something about him felt right.

eeek thank you for reading!!!

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[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : hurt / comfort, crying reader, awkward logan, age gap, mentions of jean + scott, perspective shifts, sunshine x grumpy, implied mutant!reader wc : 1.4k

it’s late afternoon, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink. you’re sitting on a bench in the park, your usual radiant energy noticeably dimmed. your cheeks and nose are flushed, and your soft sniffles seem to almost echo around. the gentle rustling of leaves and distant chatter of passersby fills the air, but you seem to be lost in your own thoughts.

you’ve had a silly little crush on logan for a long time. it’s so stupid really. it started when you moved into xavier’s school for gifted youngsters as a teacher. you were only a few years older than some of the students, so to be in such a position felt like an honour. logan showed you around right at the start. he wasn’t the kindest, nor the most talkative, but he was by far your favourite. the vanilla - pine - woody musk that emanated off of him had you starry eyed from the beginning. you could tell very quickly that logan wasn’t an extroverted person, but he still cared for the people around him. you saw it in the small gestures like how he restocked cans of storm’s favourite soda and how he made sure that charles always woke up to a mug of tea. how you craved the same kind of attention from him.

but he’s so much older than you, and you suspect he still only has eyes for jean grey, even though she’s been gone a long time. in desperation, you’ve even attempted to emulate her, getting quieter around logan and trying to seem calmer in general. it didn’t work. in fact it did the opposite, he seems even more distanced from you. you’ve invited him round for beers or to watch a new movie you heard him talking to scott about, but he declined all of your offers time and time again. the next day, you overheard him ask scott if he wanted to come round and watch the same movie at his place. god, you’ve never felt so humiliated in your life. he must have a problem with you, but you could never put your finger on why.

you seem to have tried everything - bright smiles, thoughtful gestures, and endless attempts to joke around with him. you’d always believed that if you just kept at it, eventually, logan would see how much you cared for him. but lately, it feels as if you’d been trying too hard, pushing too much, and getting nowhere. your heart feels heavy, burdened with the unspoken fear that maybe you’re just annoying him. 

tears begin to well up in your eyes as you recall all the times he’s brushed you off or grumbled at your attempts to get close. you knows he’s not one for affection, but you can’t help wondering if he might never return your feelings. you’re probably just being stupid, thinking that you could melt his cold exterior. a single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away, hoping no one would notice.

but he doesn’t hate you. he couldn’t hate such a sweet thing like you. he’s noticed how you seem overly affectionate in general, but more reserved with him. so has scott. scott seemed to think it was because you had a crush on him and were trying to impress him. 

“c’mon logan! you must’ve seen the way she looks at you!” “i have no idea what you’re talking about summers.”

he’d mentioned it over beers back when the thought hadn’t even occurred to logan. a woman like you could never like a man like him. he was always under the impression that it was a one-sided crush, that he was forever destined to be alone. you were fully aware of the things he’d done in his couple hundred years of life. you were much too good for him :( too cheerful and smiley for a grumpy old man. 

logan spots you from a distance, your usually happy presence now strangely subdued. he’s used to you being the one to approach him, always with a smile and some kind of cheerful comment. but today, you seem… small. vulnerable, even :(

he’s about to walk away, dismissing it as another one of those feelings he doesn’t want to deal with, but something stops him. maybe it’s the way your shoulders are hunched, or the way you keep wiping at your face. are you crying? the thought unsettles him more than he’d like to admit. he doesn’t do well with emotions - especially not other people’s. but for some strange reason, the idea of you being upset tugs at something deep within him.

steeling himself, he walks over and sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. you don't notice him at first, too lost in your own thoughts.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice gruff but not unkind. it’s a simple question, but it takes all his willpower to ask it.

you startle at his voice, quickly wiping your eyes. “nothing. i’m fine,” you say, forcing a watery smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. how embarrassing. he already hates you and now he has to see you cry too? you feel terrible for him, and for yourself. 

logan frowns. he’s not very good at this, but even he can tell that something’s off. “doesn’t look like nothing,” he mutters, trying to soften his usual harsh tone.

you glance up at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. it’s rare for him to ask you anything, let alone how you’re feeling. for a moment, you consider telling him everything. but then you hesitate. what if he’s just being silly? what if he doesn’t really care? as if he can see into your mind, he softly places a hand on your shoulder and whispers, “there is nothing you could say that would make me stop caring.”

you felt the burning of your waterline filling up again as soon as the words left the tip of his tongue. 

“it’s so stupid,” you finally admit, your voice trembling slightly. “i just… i feel like I’m always the one trying, you know? like i’m annoying everyone all the time. and maybe i am. i don’t wanna be a bother, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like nobody cares at all.”

you look away, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. the silence between you two  is heavy, and you wonder if you’ve made everything even worse by opening up to him.

logan feels like he’s been punched in the gut. even with his limited emotional range, he can assume you’re mostly talking about him. everybody else is quick to reciprocate your attention. everyday he feels like you’re curled up with someone new. he wishes it could be him. he’s never been good with words, especially not the ones that matter, but he never in a million years meant to contribute to you feeling like this. he’s spent so long building walls around himself that he didn’t realise how much they’ve been hurting you.

“y/n…” he starts, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m not… very good at this. at any of this. i’ve been alone for a very long time, and i guess… i don’t know how to show you that i care. but i do. much more than you know.”

he hesitates, searching for the right words. “you’re not a bother. you never have been, not to me, not to anyone. i just… it’s hard for me to open up. but that doesn’t mean i don’t… that i don’t appreciate you. i do. a lot.”

it’s not the most perfect confession, but it’s honest. he hopes it’s enough.

you turn to him, your eyes wide with surprise. you can see the sincerity in his expression, the awkwardness of a man trying to navigate unfamiliar territory. it’s more than you would ever expect to hear from him, and your heart swells with an unknown feeling.

you reach out, gently placing your hand on top of his. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth. “that means more to me than you know.”

logan stiffens at the contact but doesn’t pull away. instead, he squeezes your hand awkwardly, a silent promise that he’s going to try. it’s a small gesture, but to you, it’s everything.

[xazse]

Hello! I'm a new reader and I fr love your writing, especially the scara x bunny girl!! Please need more🥺

Maybe when bunny girl got in heat while scaramouche is on a business trip. She kept touching herself but she can't cum. The best she can do probably is hump the stuffed toy scara got for her so she calls scara. However, scara kept on ranting about his day, making bunny needier so she continues her shenanigans while scara is talking. He catches her eventually and punishes her. You can be creative with it.

(I can't really depict scenarios I'm so sorry shshshshshh)

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: HI IM SORRY THIS IS SHORT I DIDNT WANT YOU TO THINK I WAS LIKE IGNORING YOU ITS JUST BEEN IVE BEEN IN A WRITING BLOCK SORTA 😭 I’m sorry I didn’t exactly follow the prompt I just wanted to get this out to you, again I’m extremely sorry for the lateness.

I’m so happy you love my writing and our cute bunny girl reader and scars

Pairings: Scaramouche x BunnyGirl!Reader

Tags: Humping, Scara being mean and bossy, just really filthy, hybrid!reader, Fem!Reader, NOT PROOFREAD

It’s been pure torture for you, your body feels like it’s constantly on fire and like you’re carrying a heavy weight as you go from room to room smelling various things Scara owns whilst he’s on his trip. He left you because the doctor assured that your heat wouldn’t come for at least another two weeks, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

The only things keeping you comforted and relieving your body is the stuffed animals that you insist stay on the bed when you and Scara are sleeping, he despises the things but keep them as to not upset you. So they things are filled with his scent, his lavender hair wash and woody smell lingers. You can’t help but inhale the scent in the plushies every so often.

You’ve already called him and told him about how it came earlier and the sneer that came upon his face did nothing but make you twitch, you know he’s enjoying how you’ve been suffering, he is ultimately getting off on the fact that you can’t have his cock to fill you up, it’s so frustrating but he looks so good while scolding you on how you did this on purpose, even though you literally can’t control when your heat decides to come.

One night you’re tossing and turning, when your heat finally hits you full on, moans slip from your lips as your clit throbs with need, you get a whiff of Scara again in the stuffed animal you’re currently whining into, and instantly your horny mind shifts to dirty thoughts, thoughts of his long cock battering your sensitive walls whilst he groans in your ear.

A few moments later you’re dragging your whole cunt against the poor stuffed animal, you feel bad but your hips won’t allow you to stop, won’t let you stop feeling that slight drum in your little clit. You reach your fingers down to add a little more stimulation to find your completely soaked. By now you should’ve cum, but you’re left whining into the pillows as you keep trying to hump away. His smell isn’t nearly enough your heady head deems.

You successfully managed to grab the phone and call Scara, already begging him to accept the face-call. He does and props his phone up so you can see him completely in his element, buried in paperwork with a scowl on his face, so pretty. He’s already ranting about how he hates this place and all the people in it, angry about the annoying escorts they keep sending to his room that he’s meant to fuck, he’s already said he wants nothing to do with them because they think he’ll eventually change his mind.

His eyes glide to the camera, seeing you flushed and naked? He can only see your face and shoulders.

“Are you clothed woman?” He says while closely inspecting the camera again.

Did he completely forget about the fact that you’re literally in heat?

He laughs a little and gets up, the lights in whatever room he’s in goes dark and you’re graced by his appearance again.

“What are you up to bunny?” He questions, you respond with a slight mumble under your breath but the mumble comes out too breathy. The only thing lighting up his face is the lamp by his side, it gives his skin a pretty golden gleam and that makes your cunt twitch.

“I’d forgotten about your little issue, m’sorry, do you want my help? Poor thing.” He’s doing that fake voice where it’s filled with concern but once again hes getting off on your suffering but that spurs you on too.

You hear some slight shuffling before the camera is moved downwards, where you can still see his face until his thick cock is seen, he’s fully hard: even from your conversation earlier he had been thinking and waiting for you to call him. He starts slow when he strokes himself, precise hands slide up and down while he maintains eye contact with you. You feel weird, a good weird.

“Nu, uh, bunny, don’t you dare, keep doing what you were doing before” he manages to get out inbetween stuttered breathing. He knows you were about to touch yourself using your fingers, but no he wants you to keep humping your stuffed animal.

“Won’t work, Kuni” you whine out, god he squeezes his tip, he loves when you get like this but he won’t tolerate you disobeying. “Do as I say” he gives no room for arguments with his sharp tone. Your ears deflate but you do as you’re told and start gliding your messy cunt back and forth. Scara seems pleased to see you further ruin yourself: you can see him start stroking himself faster, saying your name over and over through clenched teeth, calling you a good bunny for listening so well to him.

He tells you to show the mess you’ve made, you don’t protest as you shift to sit up and spread your legs in front of the camera, you really are dripping. He fantasizes about just how good you’ll feel wrapped around him, how he’s going to make you cum so many times on his fingers then you’ll be able to have his cock. Your fingers trail down, he’s about to scold you but you use your fingertips to pry your pussy so he can really get a full view.

Loud moans slip from his lips as his balls tighten hard, and he’s cumming with thick spurts. You don’t hear a few words but you do make out how he’ll be back shortly.

[coquettetoji]

{ 🪩 } EREN JEAGER MOODBOARD

★ general eren hcs ★

— hot type of nerdy * defo majors in computer science

— my boy by billie eilish coded

— has hot hands ( the veiny kind with long fingers but his hands defo aren’t abnormally huge 💀 ¡ALSO WEARS RINGS! )

— probably smells like weed, mint gum, and expensive cologne. i’m thinking creed aventus with a woody type of scent

— has a silver chain, not gold obvi 👎 defo does the tiktok arm leaning against door frame chain dangling pose

— solid 6’2 maybe 6’3 depending on shoes and lean muscular

— emotion damaging fuck boy (takes ‘hurt people hurt people’ on a whole nother level but he’s hot so who cares?)

— drives a blacked out camaro with tinted windows bc uh

— doesn’t vape, but will always occasionally smoke weed

— gym bro with a sleeper build * bench is probably 265-270 and rubs it in armin’s face atleast once a week

— has 1 playlist because he listens to spotifys default made daily mixes 💀 ( daily mix 4 is always his go to )

— his actual playlist consists of the most overplayed main stream indie songs but then has rnb songs with 3k listens per month mainly from eren that lowk hit?

— mama’s boy and likes cats > dogs

— doberman boy

— has his snapchat in his insta bio with the ghost emoji next to it

— can play guitar and surprisingly well, favorite song to play is sparks by coldplay

— wears prescription clear frame glasses with the blue light lenses on them at night but wears contacts during the day

— all his $$$ comes from stocks, doesn’t have a job but is so smart when it comes to shit like that **defo has one of those metal credit cards that clink against tables 😏

— has dimples on his lower back and deep smile lines with that joker type of smile lol hot

— 3.8 gpa, math and science smart but not reading/english smart

— has a black phone with a clear case, black background, and his most used app is tiktok and messages

— wears street wear, wife beaters, baggy jeans, graphic tees, expensive sneakers, and cargos

— brown / green eyes, show more when they’re in the sun

— has a single diamond piercing on his right ear bc he’s slutty like that

{💌} new message from mica

hopefully this wasn’t a horrible first post bc i’m new to this whole thing, i’ll figure things out after a couple youtube tutorials >:)

i will gladly go emo for eren omfg he’s such a *moan*

SETTING THIS WHOLE BLOG UP SOON I PROMISE 😛

[0310s]

best friend, experienced fwb! leehan x virgin, inexperienced! reader

(continuation of preview one)

warnings: nsfw talk, no explicit scenes

wc: 1.5k

a/n: preview two is here! the smut will be reserved for the actual fic <3 let me know your thoughts so far!!

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

You’re both seated across your plush floor carpet, your backs leaning against the side of your bed. “So…” you gulp nervously, looking anywhere except for Leehan, whose eyes you can feel are trained on you. You concentrate your attention straight ahead on your shelf—specifically, the fluffy alien plushie your best friend gifted you on your birthday. You've named the lil guy Leehan in your head, although you've sworn yourself to secrecy (and utter embarrassment if the real Leehan were to find out). Leehan (the plushie) has been there during your worst breakdowns and has served as a source of comfort whenever you're stressed. “Where do we start?” You’re rapidly losing the feigned confidence you mustered minutes before Leehan came in.

“Well, you could start by looking at me,” Leehan lets out a small laugh. “And maybe moving closer to me… don’t you think you’re a little too far away?” You then notice the awkward distance between the both of you, practically enough to squeeze in two more people, so you scoot over, leaving a bit of space between you. Definitely farther than usual—you’re both usually comfortably pressed up against each other on most days. Although that ease of physical contact was platonic in nature; you’re not so sure about now. You then find the courage to turn and face him.

Leehan’s eyes curve into relieved crescents. He’s got his chin propped up on his hand as he tilts his head to look at you. “Hi.” He smells comforting, his perfume woody and pleasant. A cuddle session with him would honestly fix you… wait, stop that, brain! These thoughts of yours need to stop; they’re veering towards very dangerous territory.

“Hi.” Your throat is dry and your voice comes out scratchy. You clear your throat in embarrassment, trying again. “Hi, Leehan.” 

Leehan lets out a huff at your awkwardness, still faintly smiling. “How are you? You still up for this?”

Collecting your thoughts, you remain silent for a while. “Honestly? Nervous.” At Leehan’s encouraging nod, you open up. “Okay, well. I’m scared. I’ve never done this before. And I’m also just really self-conscious. I’m already overthinking now, who knows how much more of that I’ll be doing when we… you know…” Your face burns. “I also don’t find myself particularly attractive, you know? I’m just plain old me. Sure, maybe at the very most, I’m cute. But not enough for people to stop and think, wow, they’re really pretty, I have a crush on them. And I’ve never been on the receiving end of sexual or romantic attention. So I… sorry, Leehan, I don’t know where I’m going with this,” you trail off, but Leehan places a warm hand atop your own, which you’re gripping your thigh with.

“Listen,” Leehan begins, “I think everyone experiences a certain amount of self-consciousness when they have sex. After all, they’re allowing themselves to be vulnerable in front of someone else, which is a challenge even outside a sexual context. For me at least, it’s worth experiencing that self-consciousness first to be able to experience that intimacy and connection with your partner.” You nod pensively at what he’s saying. “And I think you’re really understating yourself. If you’ve only known how many guys and girls have asked me if you were single…”

You pause at that information. “Wait, seriously? You’ve never told me about this! I don’t know, maybe you were mistaken…”

“Come on, when have I ever lied to you about anything?” Leehan counters. “I didn’t say anything because I never assumed you were interested in anything romantic back then. You never seemed interested in anyone else, and you never told me anything. So I assume you didn’t really have any crushes…?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” you shrug. “I found people pretty or handsome, but just from an aesthetic standpoint? It never really got to the point that I wanted to act on it… so not a crush.” Still, a flash of insecurity strikes you. “Okay, I know this is about me, but… are you sure you want to do this? It doesn’t really matter if other people find me attractive…”  If you don’t, you were about to say. You’re unable to finish your sentence because of how… misleading it sounds in your head. “I mean,” you correct yourself, “It would be weird and awkward if I was the only one getting anything out of this. I don’t think you’d be, um, turned on in any way.” You find your gaze fixating on the Leehan (the plushie) once again, unable to make eye contact with your (very real) best friend.

“Don’t worry, I will be. Turned on, that is,” you hear from beside you, and you can’t help but turn. Leehan’s ears are red, and he’s glancing at you almost sheepishly. “I hope you know that… you’re really pretty. Anyone with eyes can see that.” Oh. Um. Okay. Oh… Wow. Hearing that from Leehan himself, who is the embodiment of beauty, makes you positively flustered, but you don’t want to think about why exactly that’s so. 

“I…” You don’t know what to say without sounding stupid. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Leehan echoes. “I mean, is that okay with you? That I think that way?” What way, you want to scream, but you’re terrified of overcomplicating things right now. 

“Um. Yes, I guess… I mean, coming from someone as handsome as you, it’s nice to hear,” you admit. You hoped that was a normal enough response (as normal as it could get in your extremely abnormal situation, anyway). And then you risk another glimpse at Leehan—he’s blushing and trying to hide a shy smile, for the love of God. His dimples are so lovely. Do not overthink this, please, for your own sanity!!!

“So…” you attempt to change the subject, but end up making yourself feel even worse. “You’re right, about the self-consciousness thing. Maybe I need to try it out to know how exactly I feel about… intimate stuff… and see if it’s something I really want. But. I don’t know. Could you tell me if you’re not attracted to me or something when you see my body? Before we actually get into anything?” You sound utterly pathetic, and you duck your head down.

“(Y/n)... look at me,” Leehan urges. A gentle hand on your shoulder turns you towards him, and you’re scared to see what expression he’s making. “You’re already beautiful the way you are, with all your imperfections—not despite. I promise you, there’s nothing about you that would make me think you’re unattractive.” His eyes are kind and his touch a comforting weight. You desperately want to believe him.  

“Okay,” you utter. 

“Okay?” Leehan repeats, and you nod slowly. “We can stop at any time you’re uncomfortable. But we don’t even have to at all, if that’s what you want. Sex isn’t something everyone has to do, and there’s really more to relationships than sex. Do you need more time to think over this? We can just hang out now like we always do,” he says, but you have your answer already.

“Leehan, I want to do this. I’m going to be scared and nervous, but I know I’ll be safe with you. And I want to do this with you. There’s no one else I could trust myself more with.” At that, you lean over and wrap your arms around him. You can tell Leehan is momentarily startled, but he settles into the hug, encircling you with his own arms. His palms against your back are gentle and warm. You take a deep breath, melting into the comfort of his embrace.

After a minute or so, you withdraw from his arms. “So Leehan… what do we do now?”

“What do you want to do? It’s your call,” Leehan whispers. 

“I’m honestly not sure? Could you, I don’t know, suggest something and I’ll let you know if it’s something I want?”

“How about… kissing?” Leehan suggests. “It’s simple but a nice way to start.“

“Oh. Well… Uh… I don’t know how to say this, but…” Your hands grow sweaty. “Uh…”

After a few moments of silence, Leehan’s eyes widen in realization. “You’ve never kissed anyone before?” You can feel your face heating up as you nod. “So technically, I’d be your first?” You nod again, albeit slower this time. Then you feel a sudden, unidentifiable, shift in the air as Leehan softly cradles your cheek with his palm. His eyes are dark with desire, and your breath is stolen from you at the awareness that you have the entirety of his attention focused on you. “Tell me you’re okay with me being your first.” He patiently waits for your answer, eyes locked on you. 

You feel the weight of your need to be as close as possible to him. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. You want to say yes. Yes to Leehan and everything he wants to give you. “I… Yes. Please, Leehan.”

And then he's kissing you.

[masonmontz]

notes: hellooo everyone :) so, recently i haven't been very inspired to write but i have a lot of unfinished things. i decided to post this story (which is not ready yet) in two parts and maybe with that i can get some inspiration to finish it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

angst word count: 4,5k

PART 2 • BONUS

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

2 years ago

“That was really good.” Mason said, laying down beside you, panting and sweaty. He still seemed a little drunk, and you were a little dizzy too, but you were panting just as much as he was. 

“I know.” You spoke softly, closing your eyes and feeling sleepy. You and Mason had been in his hotel room for over three hours, you had met at a nightclub, you were with your friends and Mason was with some of his friends, friends you had never seen before. He came to you to talk, bought you drinks and before you knew it, you were kissing him in the hotel hallways, not caring if anyone would see you. 

Mason came closer and pulled you against him, and you didn't care that you barely knew him, you were too tired to care, so when Mason caressed you, you slowly fell asleep without even realizing it.

You woke up scared and not knowing where you were, but when you heard breathing next to you, you remembered that you had met Mason and accepted his invitation for you to go to the hotel where he was staying. He was sleeping and you picked up your phone to check the time, and when you realized that if you didn't leave now you would be late for work, you found a notepad on the bedroom table and wrote down your number and name, hoping that Mason would contact you.

You put on your clothes and left, taking one last look at Mason before closing the door. You just didn't realize that when you closed the door, the wind made the paper fly away, where Mason would never find it.

⊹

Mason heard the alarm clock and woke up, putting his arm on the side of the bed, but only felt emptiness. He opened his eyes and saw that you were already gone, so he looked around the room to see if you had left anything, but he found nothing. Not even a phone number or your full name.

He had no idea how to get in touch with you, but now he needed to pack his things and go home, since Chelsea's party was at the hotel and the players got rooms and Mason and the lads had fun somewhere else that night.

Mason would really like to meet you again, but he was upset that you left after you had sex with him like it was nothing. It had been a while since Mason had met such a nice girl.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“I'm dating someone.” Candice said when you took a sip of coffee, and you almost spat out what was in your mouth in shock.

“What? Since when?” 

“I told you I was meeting someone, and I'm so in love with him, I think I found my person.” She said with sparkling eyes, and you smiled at her, knowing that Candice is a romantic and really wanted to find someone to share her life with. “His name is Woody, he is so kind and funny.”

“Woody? Is he a character from Toy Story?” You spoke and laughed, but soon stopped laughing when Candice looked at you seriously. “Sorry, I couldn't help it.”

“Yes, Chandler Bing, I know.” She ate some of the pie she had ordered, you were at the mall for an afternoon coffee after some shopping. You were on break from the bookstore where you worked and managed to enjoy it with your friend who you hadn't seen in a few days. “I want you to meet him. And his name is Nathan” 

“I would love to, I'm happy for you.” You smiled and reached out your hand to hers, squeezing it lightly. 

“He has some friends, I think I could introduce some of them to you.” You rolled your eyes, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop Candice from introducing you to someone. Candice likes to date, and she likes to see everyone in love.

“What's his friend's name? Buzz?” You asked, holding back a laugh, but you could tell Candice wanted to laugh too. 

“Stop making jokes about this, it's not funny.” She scolded you. “Whatever, I met two of his friends and they're great, I think you'll get along with them too. Woody invited me to a party next week, so you're going with me and you'll meet him.” 

“Do I have the option to say no?”

“No.”

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“First, can you tell me exactly what we're doing here?” You asked Candice as she took you to a place you hadn't been to in years ‘cause it was dirty, disorganized, and smelled bad. “This neighborhood smells like rotten food.” 

You brought your hand to your nose, not wanting to smell the street.

“Please stop complaining for a minute.” Candice pulled you by the hand and made you take your hand off your nose. “We're going to a cool place, it's new and Woody and his friends love it.”

“They are men, they don't care about the dirt on the street, of course they like it.” You rolled your eyes, trying to balance yourself in your high heels as you walked alongside Candice, who was walking down the street as if she frequented that neighborhood every day. “Why didn't your boyfriend pick us up?”

“Oh, may I remind you that you said we should take an Uber?” You stayed quiet, knowing she was right and you were the one who didn't accept the ride. “We arrived.”

“How the fuck did they find this place?” Candice took a key out of her purse and opened the door, leaving you surprised that the door was locked. “Are you trying to kill me? I have to work early tomorrow, you know.”

“Shut up, Y/N.” Candice held the door for you and you could hear laughter and music, but it didn't sound like a party. “They are up there.” 

“I feel like I'm not wearing the right clothes.” You spoke as you looked at the short skirt you were wearing and the heels, and Candice was wearing pants and heeled boots. 

“You look beautiful, you need to show those tanned legs to the guys.” She said as you walked up the stairs. The sound got louder, and when you got there, you saw about fifteen people, some standing, some sitting on the couch, and… Well, the guy who never called you back. 

You froze when you saw him leaning against a wall talking to a guy who looked like Candice's boyfriend and two other men, they were laughing about something the taller one was saying.

Candice looked around and said hi to a few people, pulling you with her to where Woody was. One of the guys nodded at you and her boyfriend turned around, as did Mason, who widened his eyes when he saw you, not caring about your friend in front of him. 

Of course, he didn't expect to see the girl he just fucked and pretended didn't exist.

Asshole. 

You were silent as Woody approached Candice and kissed her, hugging her and smiling, and you noticed that she melted like butter when he touched her. 

“Hi, princess.” You heard him say and smiled, then Candice turned to you to introduce you to Woody. 

“Babe, this is Y/N, my best friend.” Candice said and Woody looked at you, so you smiled at him and gave him a little hug.

“The famous one. I’m Woody, nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you too, I heard a lot about you.” You were aware that the three men behind Woody were looking at you, but you tried to ignore it.

“Candice already knows the guys, but I'll introduce you to them.” Woody didn't let go of Candice's hand, but he still pointed to the three men with him. “They are my best friends. This is Declan.”

You greeted him, who was the tallest, with a small hug as well. Then Ben and finally Mason. But you didn't hug him, who was also looking at you seriously, and just said a little hi to him. If you could, you would throw something at his head just for being an idiot. 

“Hi.” You spoke and faked a smile, which Candice would definitely notice, because she knows you better than you know yourself. “Nice to meet you, Mason.” 

You emphasized his name, and he barely smiled in your direction before faking a smile. 

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.” The tension was visible and Candice, Woody, Declan and Ben were staring at the two of you without saying anything, so you turned and smiled at your friend.

Candice shrugged and Woody led the two of you to the small bar, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer for each of you. Candice pulled you to the side and grabbed your arm, making you stop in front of her.

“What was that? Why did you talk to Mason like that?” 

“Oh, you know that jerk who never called me back and was the best sex I ever had? Well, let me introduce you, that man was Mason.”

“What? No way.” Her mouth was open. “But he is so nice, he would never do that. He is very kind.” 

“Candice, I'm your friend, stop defending him.” You frowned when Candice complimented him. 

“How did you not know who he was? He’s famous.” 

“What?”

“He's a football player, and so is Declan and Ben. Mason plays for Chelsea FC.” 

“I know as much about football as I know about chemistry, nothing.” You rolled your eyes, now it was explained why he never called you. “I was so stupid, oh my God. I really thought he would call me, we had sex like four times in one night.”

“Wow, I don’t wanna hear the details, please.” 

“Whatever, he is an asshole, and I don’t want to talk to him.” 

“Who’s an asshole?” Woody approached, and you got embarrassed ‘cause you were talking about his stupid friend.

“Just a guy I know from work.” You smiled at him. 

“We're going to play beer pong, wanna join?” 

“Sure.” 

In fact, they were funny. There were three other girls present and they were also funny and joined in the game with you. You and Mason hadn't exchanged a word, and you were doing a pretty good job of pretending he wasn't there.

It had been more than ten months since you met, and to tell the truth, what irritated you about him not calling you was that he spent that night saying that you two would get along really well, that he wanted to see you again, and would take you out to dinner, but he ignored you as if you were nothing. 

You weren't in love with him, but just a warning from him saying he wasn't interested would have been great.

When you got tired of the game, you walked back to the fridge and grabbed another beer, just to have something to hold in your hand. It was late and you need to go home soon, or you wouldn't be able to wake up for work tomorrow. 

And unfortunately, Mason came close.

He didn't say anything, but he gave you a few looks that irritated you.

“What?” You asked.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, ironically.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Didn't you get tired of being an idiot once?”

“What? Was I an idiot? Can you remind me why, exactly?”

“Don't play dumb.” 

“Why are you treating me like that?”

“The only thing I know is that you acted like a jerk, I'm sorry I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Fine by me, I don't need someone being rude to me for nothing.” Mason spoke and left, so you walked up to Candice and told her you were leaving. 

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“So, do you know Y/N?” Declan asked Mason when they were leaving, and Mason locked the door behind him. It was a kind of shed that they decided to rent to create a space for games and fun, so they tried to meet there most of the time, away from people and cameras. It was a safe place for their circle of friends. 

“Yes, remember that woman I told you I met at that party in Chelsea? She disappeared like a speck of dust, didn't leave a number, a name, nothing. And she was so fucking rude to me like I had done something wrong.”

“And can you understand women, bro? ‘Cause I can't.” Declan laughed. “Wait, was she the woman you had sex with “I don't know how many times” in one night?”

“Yes.” 

“Well, she’s beautiful and I can understand why you got so upset because she didn't leave her number.” Mason shrugged, remembering how stupid you were to him. “You can ask Candice for her number.”

“Only if I lost my mind, Dec. That woman is crazy and I don't want anything to do with her.”

“Even though it was the best sex you've ever had?”

“Shut up.”

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Time passed and Candice and Woody's relationship became more and more serious, and it was great for them, but you had to see Mason more than you would have liked. Weekly meetings became common in their shed and you became friends with all of them, you loved to play and laugh and especially, you loved the days when Mason couldn't go because of the matches, so you didn't have to look at that beautiful and stupid face.

Whenever you were in the same place, you exchanged indirect messages and argued over silly reasons, making everyone tired of your fights, because you were both already adults and not two teenagers. 

But every time you weren't arguing, you remembered the night you spent with Mason.  It was so hot, so good, that you get goosebumps when you remember it. No man had ever managed to leave you the way he had, and that left you frustrated. 

“Talk to him, you can work this out.” 

“Talk to her, Mason, maybe she doesn't remember that she didn't leave her number.”

“He's cool, you guys can get along if you try.”

“She's your type Mason, you guys would make a great couple.”

And the answer is always no. 

You pulled your coat tighter as you walked down the freezing street towards the shed, wanting to get there quickly to warm up. Candice said that she and Woody would be arriving later because they were going to the market to buy some things, so you decided to take an Uber there.

You didn't have the key, so you pressed the doorbell and waited for one of them to answer. It was almost December and very cold, and even with layers of clothing, you were still freezing.

The door opened and you rolled your eyes when Mason opened it. Of course. 

“Hey.” You spoke and walked past him, quickly going up the stairs, but realizing that there was still no one there. “Where’s everybody?” 

“Let me see… not here.” He spoke and pulled out his pants pocket to pretend he was looking for someone. “Let me look in the fridge.”

“Asshole.” You spoke and sat on the comfortable couch, and Mason sat on another couch in front of you, not paying attention to you. He was messing with his cell phone and that made you angry.

“Well, I see you have a phone.” You spoke and Mason looked at you bored. 

“Yes, it is a new item in the 21st century.” He spoke mockingly. 

“You must call several women, how do you feel about that?” You teased him, and it was fun because Mason always got mad at you.

“Well, I didn't call you.” 

You deserved it. But this just showed that Mason is a jerk and the worst kind, the typical football player. 

“How can you look in the mirror and not hate yourself?” You spoke softly, but Mason heard and that was the spark needed to explode.

“What’s wrong with you, Y/N? Don't you get tired of being a bitch?” Mason exploded and stood up, throwing his phone on the couch and glaring at you. “Grow up, you're not fifteen anymore.”

“Who do you think you are to tell me to grow up?” You yelled at Mason and walked up to him, facing him face to face. “You fuck a different women every day, aren't you ashamed of it? Of making them look like idiots?”

“You don't know anything about my life, you don't know anything about what I do and who I sleep with.” Mason put his hands on his face, nervous. You were just as angry as he was, ‘cause you couldn't deal with everything you felt for him. Anger, resentment, boredom.

“Good thing, because you think you're the center of the world and you think you have the right to treat others as if they were nothing.” Angrily, you turned away, but Mason grabbed your wrist, making you turn to him once more before he let go of you.

“Stop talking shit, you're crazy, Y/N.” Mason spoke and glared at you, and you were so angry that you just wanted to leave and leave him behind. You didn't say anything as you continued to stare at him, you were panting from the screams and... when you realized it you and Mason were kissing.

You don't know who took the first step, but everything happened so fast that you didn't understand anything anymore. You brought your hands to Mason's neck, pulling him against you, and Mason pulled you by the waist, pressing you against his body as his tongue slid across yours.

The kiss reminded you of the night you met, and you remembered how much you had enjoyed his kisses. You didn't walk away, and neither did Mason. You were so desperate, there were months of fights, indirect messages, tension, everything exploded in a single kiss.

You pushed Mason by the chest and he fell onto the couch, looking at you scared, but you climbed on top of him and fitted your hips against his, pulling him in for another kiss. It was just a kiss, what's wrong with that? 

Mason sighed and reached behind his back, opening your coat and taking it off. You were still wearing your jeans and high-heeled boots, the tight, warm white blouse left Mason free to see your curves. Mason used to get annoyed that you were so pretty and so, so cheeky with him. 

He was wearing a sweater, and Mason had his hair in a buzzcut so you hated that he was so attractive when he was such a jerk. 

Mason brought a hand to your thigh and squeezed, and you sighed when you felt his bulge against you, and all the cold you were feeling disappeared. You put your hands under Mason's sweater and felt his warm abdomen, then you ran your nails down hard and felt Mason twitch. 

“Don’t do that.” He spoke between the kiss, and you did it again, on purpose, and pushed his shirt up.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” You bit Mason's lip and grinded against his hips, sighing. It was crazy to want Mason so much, he drove you crazy and made you act like a sullen child. In fact, you didn't know you wanted him so much until now.

You heard a laugh and let go of Mason, then realized the others must have arrived. He looked at you in panic and you didn't know what to do, but you quickly got off Mason and ran to the small kitchen, trying to fix your face and hair. Mason got up quickly and went to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

As you sat down in a chair, Candice appeared with Woody behind her, then Reece, Ben, Lauren, Declan and Lily. You smiled at them and took a sip of water, hoping no one would notice anything.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Candice waved and walked over to you, hugging you. “How did you get in?”

“What? Uh, Mason is here.” You walked over to the fridge, grabbing some beers for them and trying to divert their attention away from you, but when you turned around, everyone was staring at you strangely. “What?” 

“Did you kill him or something like that?” Woody asked, looking really worried. 

“He's in the bathroom, idiot.” You rolled your eyes, and at the same moment the bathroom door opened and Mason came out smiling at everyone, who almost sighed in relief when they saw that you two didn't kill each other. 

“Thank God.” Declan placed his hand on his chest and closed his eyes, and you shook your head at his reaction. “For a moment I thought my son would be left without a godfather.”

“What?” Mason asked blankly, but Declan shrugged.

Ben put the pizzas on the table and soon you were all eating, and for the first time you felt Mason's presence, unlike the other times when you ignored him. 

Oh my God, you kissed Mason.

And because you wanted to.

And if no one else came, you would probably have fucked him.

You choked on a piece of pizza because of your own thoughts, you started coughing and before you knew it, Declan was patting your back for you to breathe again. When you managed to breathe, you glared at him.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

If they thought it was strange that you and Mason weren't fighting, no one said anything. After eating, you went to play some games as usual and chat. You got up to get water once more, and when you were coming back you passed behind the couch where Mason and Ben were sitting talking, but you weren't surprised to see Mason showing Ben a picture of a woman.

Once an asshole, always an asshole.

And you kissed him, you almost wanted to scream in anger at yourself. 

“Let's play truth or dare?” Woody asked for everyone and Candice seemed the most excited. It was her favorite game. “C’mon c’mon.” 

You sat in a circle on the carpet, Candice spun the bottle for the first time. Lauren asked Ben who the last woman he had sex with was (Someone called Rita). Lily asked Candice how many guys she's slept with (Woody wasn't happy with the question - the answer is eight). Mason asked Lily what's the weirdest place she's ever had sex (in the college bathroom). 

“Y/N… Let me see…” Declan is thinking too much, to be honest. “Have you ever had sex with anyone from this group?” 

You could jump on his neck and strangle him, but you'd go to jail and Jude would be left fatherless. He gave a fake smile, and then you realized he knew about you and Mason. Of course, Mason is his best friend.

“I would like to say no, but yes.” Declan smiled, Candice's eyes widened and the others realized that you and Mason had already had sex, because he was looking at you with a not so happy face. 

You spun the bottle, and of course things didn't end there. It was Mason's turn to ask you a question. He gave you a mocking smile and thought before asking.

“Y/N… Why did you tell everyone that you didn't want to have sex with me when you screamed my name all night?” 

It wasn't possible. He can't be that much of a jerk.

Tears came to your eyes, but not of sadness, but of anger.

“Wow Mason, why didn't I think of this before? Let me see… I only had sex with you because I didn't know you, but if I had known you I would never have done anything, ‘cause you are a trash person.”

You got up and grabbed your coat and cell phone, not paying attention to them, who were calling you to come back.

“Go, run away like you did the first time.” Mason snapped. “It's the only thing you know how to do well besides lying.” Mason walked past you and quickly down the stairs, leaving you standing there watching him go. 

You followed him down the stairs.

“How can you be so stupid and not realize it? Am I lying? You're the one who pretended you never had sex with me.” You yelled, and Mason opened the door walking to the sidewalk, but you followed after him as he walked towards his car. “Don't be a coward, own up to what you did.”

Mason stopped walking and turned his back to you, and you could tell he was trying to control his breathing. 

“I don't have the strength for this anymore, Y/N. Leave me alone.” He spoke, without turning around.

“Don’t. Be. A. Coward.” 

Mason turned around, and his face was pure hatred.

“What do you want from me?” He yelled, and you backed away. Mason raised his hands, trying to understand why you were there. “You know how much I liked you when we first met and you never gave me a chance, now you think you have the right to call me a liar and say you never wanted to sleep with me and embarrass me in front of my friends? What the fuck is your problem?”

“You're my problem, Mason.” You yelled at him, feeling anger throughout your body. You pointed your finger at him. “You promised me a thousand things and never called me, you treated me as if I were any of the women you spent a night with, you deceived me and still laughed at me after that.”

“How am I supposed to call someone who never left a number or a full name?” He shouted, and you saw that some people passing by heard everything you were saying. “You went away and left me alone, don't treat me like the culprit since it was your choice.”

Mason turned his back and walked to his car, but you stood there, just watching him drive away. 

“What?” Why couldn't you understand each other? Why did he keep lying? “I left my number and name on a piece of paper on the desk, stop lying to me for a minute, Mason.”

“You think I didn't want to call? I thought about it for weeks, months, until I finally accepted that you didn't leave your number because you didn't want to. I'm not a genius, I had no way of finding you.” 

“But I did.” You insisted with him, and Mason huffed, putting his hand to his face, taking a deep breath. “I waited for your call for days, and you never called.”

“It doesn't matter now, Y/N. I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore after all the hell you put me through this year.”

“Mason…” You called out to him, but Mason got in the car and drove off, leaving you alone on the sidewalk, just you and your guilt.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

[seobinghard]

how to fix a broken heart in one day;

pairing: best friend!mingi x fem!reader ✫ wc: 1.5k ✫ genres: fluff, romcom, feel-good, non-idol!au, best friend!au ✫ warnings: none ✫ note: mingi's rich (duh). p1h's keeho mentioned ✫ synopsis: your failed situationship has left your heart shattered into pieces but lucky for you, mingi's good at fixing things.

when you told mingi you ended things with keeho last week, he hears angels sing; a celestial choir celebrating the demise of your situationship. is it evil of him, he thinks, to not feel sympathy for your situation? is it morally wrong that he even feels relief at the news of your failed romantic ventures? for it only means one thing; you're single again. and your broken heart? he'll be the one to fix it.

“mingi, you’re not listening to me. i just told you we broke up,” you bite back a sob, grabbing another tissue from the half-empty box on the coffee table.

‘how to lose a guy in ten days’ plays faintly on the your living room tv, volume on low. 

“oh, come here, you big crybaby” mingi coos, opening his arms for you. you're finally mine.

sniffling, you crawl into your best friend’s arms and sink into his embrace, basking in the warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his laundry softener mixed with his cologne; fresh rain and green tea; clean and woody. mingi wraps his arms around you like you’re his most prized possession, his hold gentle and firm. there’s a heartbeat against you, a steady rhythm only you can hear through the wool of his grey sweater. for a while, the morning feels less cold and the world far away.

mingi sighs, placing his chin on your head. “you know, for a situationship that only lasted two weeks, do you think you're over-reacting?”

you pull away. “are you calling me dramatic?” 

“i thought you said he's a walking red flag?"

“but you see, that's the thing about me. i'm kinda blind, mings,” you sniffle, burying your face in mingi’s chest, “and he just has go and break my heart like that.”

mingi feels his chest tighten at your muffled sobs. does he think you’re overreacting? maybe. but above all else, he hates to see you like this; blue and hopeless. you’re his sparkle bubble and some keeho guy came and popped it. what’s so special about this mf anyway, mingi thinks. sure, he’s very good-looking and successful, but can keeho make you laugh like he can? can keeho list the big three signs in your birth chart? does keeho know your gp's name off the top of his head? as if.

no one knows you better than him. and if no one loves you, mingi's dead. 

“hey," mingi mutters, “you wanna go shopping?”

your eyes light up like the lights on christmas day. “now?”

“get dressed, we’ll leave in thirty."

if you were crying over a man an hour ago, that wasn't you.

mingi watches you with a smile as you bounce through sephora with stars in your eyes. he trails closely by your side, a mini basket in his right hand, his left—a canvas for your shade swipes. dior, rare beauty, two-faced; he's got it all on his skin.

"oh my god, they restocked my favourite shade, mingi!" you bounce in joy, holding up the mac lip liner.

"anything you want," mingi smirks coolly.

"for real?"

"did i stutter?"

say less.

cha-ching! two-hundred and ten dollars at sephora. a hundred and ten dollars at aesop. thirteen dollars at crumbl cookie. seventeen-hundred fifty at acne studios. seventy-nine dollars, eighteen cents at barney's. twenty dollars at heytea. fifteen-hundred and ninety dollars at miu miu.

you thought you might've murdered mingi's credit card at this point but he only gives your hair a cute lil ruffle and says, "let's go have a look at the bracelets in tiffany."

you may be clueless but one thing you know for sure is; you don't just buy tiffany for anyone.

"y/n, come here," mingi calls.

there's a foreign tenderness in his voice when he says your name and it makes your heart flutter in anticipation. you've never felt like this about your best friend before.

as you make your way to mingi, you can't help but notice his height, towering over everyone else in the store, broad shoulders visible beneath the fitted black shirt he's wearing. his jet black hair is effortlessly swept back, rimless glasses—the ones he wears while gaming—perched his nose. he balances all your shopping bags in one hand, the other beckoning you to come over. you spot the chrome hearts ring you gifted him for his twenty-third birthday on his middle finger, and your heart skips a beat. rose-pink dusts your cheeks like the first cherry blossom of spring. has mingi always looked this good?

you're starting to wonder, maybe your heart isn't broken to begin with. maybe it's been crying out for attention from the wrong person, when, all along it should've been calling out to...mingi.

oh my god.

the world blurs, and you feel dizzy. mingi's speaking to you but his words only drift around you like smoke, your mind a storm of thoughts. it's only when his hand brushes against your waist that you're hauled back to reality.

"y/n, you alright?" mingi asks, concerned.

his hand is still on your waist. you're about to combust.

"miss, would you like to try it on?"

the sales assistant brings out a bracelet on a turquoise tray. it's a return to tiffany heart bracelet; the one you've always wanted since you were little.

you gasp in awe, "it's so pretty."

you're prettier, mingi thinks. especially when you're your truest self.

"you like it?" he asks.

you nod, smiling, "i do."

your smile. fuck. he wouldn't trade anything in the world for the ability to make you smile like that. money isn't an issue. and if it ever becomes an issue, he's got two kidneys for a reason.

when night falls and it's just the two of you in his car, you finally muster up the courage to ask, "mingi, what are we doing?"

your best friend chuckles, "what do you mean?"

"i know we're best friends but why are you doing all this for me?"

mingi almost chokes on his spit but manages to play it cool, "'cause you're my homeboy, duh. what kinda stupid question is that?"

"mingi, you don't just buy someone a tiffany bracelet," you comment calmly.

you notice the faintest tension in his jaw. mingi is quiet, his focus fixed on the road ahead, the familiar route back to your apartment just five minutes away. silence hangs in the air, thick with unspoken thoughts. you're glad you live downtown because if you had stayed in an enclosed space any longer with mingi, you don't know what you would've done.

mingi stops outside your apartment building and shifts the car into park.

you take this as a sign to leave, unbuckling your seatbelt. "i'll see you—"

"y/n, wait."

mingi swiftly takes off his glasses and pulls you in for a kiss. you blink, swept away by the sudden contact of his lips against yours—soft and sweet like a midsummer's dream. you can hear your heart pounding in your ears as he slowly pulls away, his chest heaving, breath mingling with yours. warmth floods through you in a million butterflies, pooling in your stomach as you regain your breath. the surprise in your eyes mirrors his as you both process what just happened.

"i didn't want it to be like this," mingi finally breaks the silence. his voice is husky, face flushed, eyes wide and glossy like brown boba pearls. "fuck."

your heart is about to leap out of your chest.

mingi takes your hand in his. "y/n, i know it's selfish of me to tell you this now and you can say 'no' anytime if you feel uncomfortable—"

"mingi, please," you whimper. you think you know what he's going to say and it's driving you insane.

"i love you," mingi confesses, his words weighted with confidence and truth. his gaze holds yours as if searching for a four-syllable answer to his sacred declaration.

"like in a homeboy way?"

mingi's face shatters. "are you really asking me this right now? really, y/n?"

"i'm joking!" you burst into fits of giggles before placing a kiss on his cheek. "i think i really, really like you too, mingi bunny!"

though you can't see it, mingi is over the moon at your answer—he'll take 'i really, really like you' any day and pray for the best that one day, 'like' becomes 'love'. but until then, he's fully content to just be in your presence. he's waited this long, what's a few more weeks, month, or years, going to do to him?

"sooooo, can we make out?"

"mingi, get the bags."

"yes, my love."

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 3: favorite scent

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

When you entered the conference room, the first thing you noticed was the strong scent filling the place. It was men's cologne, and as soon as it hit your nose, it completely overwhelmed you. But it wasn't an unpleasant dizziness; on the contrary, the woody artificial scent drove you wild. You loved autumn simply because of that.

“Sorry for the delay,” you apologized to the team, dropping into the last available seat. Next to Spencer.

You quickly grabbed the file that was on the table in your spot and took a glance at your colleague, who gave you a shy smile. You were a bit lost with the specific part your colleagues were reviewing, and he, noticing your confusion, leaned in to help you. That’s when the scent you had noticed earlier intensified, and when you turned to him, you realized it was coming from his body.

You registered your colleague’s light-colored shirt with a neatly tied black tie around his neck. His golden hair slightly brushed his cheek as he helped you, and suddenly you felt nervous, without really understanding why.

Reid found the file you were working on and then placed the folder in your hands. You whispered a small thank you, and he gave you a nonchalant expression, trying to tell you it was no trouble at all.

You had a rule you always tried to stick to, and that was not dating colleagues at work. Simply because it always complicated things. Morgan flirted with you all the time, but that was something he did indiscriminately, so you never took it too personally. As for the rest of the team members, they knew how to keep things professional, plus they were old enough to be your dad. However, that day you wondered if it would be worth ignoring that rule for someone like Spencer.

He was a broken guy, no doubt, and somewhat different from the others. But he was also sweet, polite, so intelligent, and humble that sometimes you found it hard to believe that so many good qualities could fit into one person. And the guy wasn’t bad-looking, to be honest. Although he wasn’t really your type, since you’d always dated more muscular men with a different lifestyle, exceptions could always exist.

And honestly, maybe his scent had something to do with your sudden fascination with him, because every now and then you sneaked glances at him as if you wanted to admire him with other intentions, not just as your colleague.

“Are you okay?” he asked once JJ finished presenting the case. That swollen belly from pregnancy was already starting to show, and you wondered when she would take her maternity leave.

“Yes, why do you ask?” you exclaimed absentmindedly.

“Oh, it’s just that you were late. You’re never late. And besides, you were looking at me a lot during the meeting, so I thought maybe you were worried about something and wanted to tell you that if you need to talk, you can tell me.”

Oh, sweet, sweet boy.

“I’m perfectly fine, Reid,” you laughed. Everyone had already left the conference room. “It’s just that I was so tired last night that I forgot to set my alarm, and then I overslept. But it’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“Maybe you should buy an alarm clock. Did you know the first alarm clock was invented by watchmaker Levi Hutchins in 1787? But it was for personal use only because he made it to wake himself up at 4 a.m. to go to work.”

“I didn’t know that. I’ll probably take your advice and get one,” you smiled at him, already used to hearing him have facts about practically every subject.

“Well, you know that if something’s bothering you… you can tell me whenever you want, okay?”

The sweetness and kindness of this man touched you, and you stretched out to hug him, hoping it didn’t cross the line of trust, as it was well-known that the doctor wasn’t too fond of physical contact. However, he gladly received you in his arms, making sure to hold you as close as possible.

“I know. You’re a good friend, Reid,” you thanked him softly. Once you broke the hug, you didn’t completely pull away, taking a moment to lean toward his clothes and inhale deeply. “Is your cologne new?”

“Uh, yeah. A gift from Morgan. But I think it’s too strong. I don’t know if I should keep using it…”

“I completely love the smell of wood,” you blurted out. “And it suits you very well. It matches you.”

Upon receiving that compliment, the boy blushed just a little, and still with his hands on your waist, he tried to suppress a smile.

“Well, in that case… if you like it, I’ll keep wearing it.”

“No! I didn’t mean that, it was just an observation. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

“My concern was bothering people with the scent. But now I see that’s not the case.”

A giggle escaped your lips, and then you pulled away, thinking that if you stayed in that position any longer, it could be considered inappropriate contact.

“I’ve always believed that a handsome man should wear good cologne. We women love that.”

The words left your mouth before your mind could reflect on them, and although you were embarrassed, you weren’t going to take them back. Spencer didn’t know which was worse: the fact that you had just implied he was handsome or that you were suggesting you were charmed by it.

“I’ll keep that in mind from now on,” he murmured playfully, almost bordering on a flirtatious tone.

The two of you walked out the door, chatting about a few other things so you could fully focus on analyzing the case once you got on the jet. During that time, he was thinking about two things he definitely didn’t want to forget: thanking Morgan and making sure to put on cologne every morning without fail.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know you made shorts for Sora, Riku, and Kairi, but do you have any other thoughts about Kingdom Hearts?

Ik this is kinda vauge and you get these kind of asks all the goddamn time, but I hyperfixated on those games for most of elementary and middle school and its always cool to see your favorite Youtuber talk about stuff you really like. Not to guilt trip you into answering this one or anything, just. . . I'm very tired and it would be very cool lol.

Again, saving my character design thoughts for some more shorts, but I adore Kingdom Hearts. Like, the first game really ISN'T much more than a cross-promotional branding exercise for Disney and Square, same as any of a dozen other similar crossover centric franchises; it's a Saturday morning cartoon show that wants to get you invested (or keep you invested) in a bunch of fancy IPs to buy toys of, but it's a really good one of those.

And it's a game that understands that the central thing that's going to hook people IN to that kind of thing is characters that are willing to believe in what they've got going on with one thousand percent sincerity. Which I think is the thing they nailed more than anything. Sora cares SO MUCH, and he wants to find his friend and his love interest (Kairi and Riku, respectively) SO BADLY, you can't help but root for the poor kid and want to believe in it.

Then, with the first game successfully managing to hook a solid fanbase, the creative team went "hey what if we had even MORE extremely earnest cool anime people getting deep in their feelings?" and now we're off to the races with Organizations and Oblivion Castles and fractions of 358 days.

And the thing that makes all the hyper-convoluted wheels-within-wheels plot machination nonsense WORK is that down, deep down, right at the core of what the franchise is always trying to say, is that love will save us. Yeah yeah hearts and darkness and unversed and nobodies and keyblades and blah blah blah (to be clear: I adore all that nonsense), but all of it is top-to-bottom in service of that singular central thematic clarion call.

Love will save us.

What holds Ventus together after Xehanort tears his heart apart? The love of Sora. What keeps Roxas the nobody from fading into Sora? The love of Xion and Axel, and Hayner, Pence and Olette. What brings Xion back? The love of Axel and Roxas. Hearts ring together and resonate and bind themselves to each other and there is no darkness so deep, no tragedy so absolute, no villain so foul that the cry of a loving heart cannot defeat it.

Roxas is a nobody doomed to darkness? Fuck you, Kingdom Hearts is love, no he isn't. Xion is a mere replica puppet, a failed experiment that nobody will remember? >>EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER<< get seasalt icecream'd on top of a clock tower at sunset, IDIOT.

Over and over again characters sink into despair and loneliness, they fear that their connections are fake or fading, they fear being forgotten or left behind (Riku in the first game, the breaking of Ventus, Aqua and Terra, Roxas thinking nobody would miss him, Aqua in the Realm of Darkness), and over and over again they are proven beautifully wrong. There is always a hand reaching out, there is always someone who will miss you. Love will save us.

And this absolutely gets hokey, of course it does, it's a saturday morning children's cartoon. It's a bit simplistic, maybe a bit naïve, but honestly in a world where you can't walk two steps without bleak-minded doomer cynicism forcing the assumption that nothing truly good is possible and that the worst will always happen, Kingdom Hearts is a story so absolutely drenched in hope, sincerely held, that it feels like a fucking balm.

Also, LITERALLY where the fuck else are you going to get Woody from Toy Story reading an edgy anime villain for absolute filth? Nowhere, that's where. ONLY Kingdom Hearts.

None of this is to suggest I don't have criticisms of the franchise or that it's faultless. I could talk for several hours unbroken about all my gripes and problems, chief among which is LET KAIRI DO THINGS OH MY FUCKING GOD the franchise is low key misogynistic towards its female characters sometimes but I am talking about the things I love here let me just be happy for a second.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 3k wc. ﾉ smut ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ oral (f!receiving) ﾉ face sitting :3 ﾉ clothed sex ﾉ subby yuta ﾉ reader is a little mean at moments ﾉ jealousy

you can’t say that you normally time how long it takes yuta to answer his door but you can say that it never takes this long. you add the oddity to your growing mental list titled: “ways yuta has changed since having sex for the first time.” it’s not one you ever saw yourself making but life has a way of throwing curveballs at people and this seems to be the one pitched to you. 

maybe yuta feels a bit different these days, but he’s still yuta. you’re sure you’ll get used to this new version of him soon enough.

a few more long seconds pass before you hear footsteps on the other side of the door and the barrier swings open, revealing yuta in all his glory.

“so you are home,” you comment with a smile upon finally being met with the sight of him. you don’t see him as often these days and the fact makes you sadder than you’d like to admit. so, you soak him in silently—the perpetual dark crescents beneath his eyes, the dark hair that hangs over the left side of his forehead, the way his hand almost unconsciously always finds its way to rest on his neck.

“sorry, sorry,” he apologizes with that familiar, sheepish grin of his. at least some things never change. “come in.”

the way he ushers you in and leads you back to his bedroom leads you to believe that you unintentionally interrupted him. he’s thumbing through the shirts in his closet when you come to stand by his bed and ask, “did i catch you in the middle of something?”

“oh, i’m heading out later so i was just getting ready.” you stop yourself from getting comfortable on his mattress at his response, although, when he turns around with a button up in hand, he uses his other to wave the misunderstanding away. “you can hang out though.”

“where are you going?” you ask him, plopping down on his bed. the scent lingering on his pillowcase and sheets is fresh like he just washed the bedding. however, you can still pick out a hint of the fragrance he wears regularly—warm and just a little woody.

“out for drinks,” he tells you. he’s in the process of trading out the t-shirt he’s been lounging in for the one he just picked out when your silence finally registers. a look over his shoulder at you is enough to tell him that the answer doesn’t satisfy you. the expression you’re wearing is telling—like you know there’s more that he chose not to say. it doesn’t seem like you’re backing down, either. with your silent prompting, he adds, “with a girl.”

“another date?” you have to stop yourself from frowning. “didn’t you go out with some other chick over the weekend?”

this is exactly why you haven’t seen him lately—he’s so busy meeting women and taking them home to fuck that he barely has time to spare for you. you’ve always thought that if he’s happy, you will be, too, but you have to admit that that isn’t the case. it’s worrying—how quickly he went from such a timid guy with no sexual experience to one who’s getting laid every three days.

you aren’t sure if this is coming from a place of concern for the girls crossing paths with him or if the whole fuckboy persona is beginning to become offputting to you, but you find yourself asking, “and they all know this is casual? that you’re seeing other girls two days after you hook up with them?”

“it sounds bad when you put it like that…” he starts, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. he’s only gotten around to fastening the bottom half of them, leaving the unblemished skin of his chest on display. “but yeah, we’re all on the same page.”

it’s still hard to believe that the shy little yuta you’ve come to know has turned over a promiscuous new leaf. it would be one thing if he simply lost his virginity and settled down with one partner but the extent of his sexual activities has truly surprised you. a question comes to mind—one that you normally wouldn’t ask your other friends but an important one considering yuta only just started sleeping around. “you’re getting tested, right?”

the question doesn’t phase him the way you think it will. you expect his eyes to widen and a furious red to overtake his cheeks and the tips of his ears but neither happens. he simply nods. “yes, of course.”

“and you’re wearing condoms?” you follow up.

“mm-mm.” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into place. “who knows how many women i’ve gotten pregnant by now.”

you can’t hide the disbelief that paints your features—the way your mouth hangs open and your unblinking gaze glued on the man before you. the shock of his words makes it difficult to find your voice and you’re sure it comes out higher than usual when you finally do. “yuta, you cannot—“

“i’m joking!” he exclaims with a wide smile. it shrinks into something smaller when he sees how serious you are. “yes, i am wearing condoms. jeez, what’s with the third degree?”

“it’s nothing, just wanna make sure you’re being safe.” you had planned on sticking around until it was time for him to leave but the thought of staying here while he’s getting ready to see—to fuck—someone else isn’t a pleasant one. you swing your legs over the side of his bed and stand up, making your way to the door. “i’m leaving. have fun fucking your flavor of the day.”

“wait, wait, wait.” yuta reaches out to grab your arm. his calloused grip is warm and firm, though, you’re sure you could pull away if you wanted to—he’s made sure of that much. despite that, you don’t. “you aren’t jealous, are you?”

“wow,” you scoff and turn to face him. there’s a sparkling glint in his eyes, one that has no place being there. “you have seriously let this inflate your ego.”

your comment doesn’t offend him, doesn’t hurt him the way you secretly wished it would. instead, his thumb glides against your wrist, runs over your pulse as he leans down closer to you. his voice comes out just above a whisper. “you aren’t curious? not even a little?”

“not everyone wants you, yuta.” you finally pull your hand back. “someone should really put you in your place.”

your words put a smile on his face. “are you volunteering?”

you have no idea what’s gotten into him, why he’s poking you like a bear and looking for a reaction, but his incessant goading has done its job. reflexively, almost without a thought, your hands come up to shove the broad chest before you. yuta stumbles back and his legs hit the mattress, causing him to fall back against it.

for the first time since you walked in, shock washes over yuta’s face the moment you begin to approach him. you find yourself crawling on the bed and straddling him, your hands pressing into the mattress on either side of his head. his lips are parted now and they only seal when he swallows the lump lodged in his throat.

it’s almost enough to make you laugh—how quickly his tune changed from confident to a bundle of nerves. you guess this has yet to happen to him, not being the one who’s calling the shots, that is. maybe you aren’t quite laughing, but it does make a grin stretch across your lips.

“what happened, yuta?” you ask him, sitting back on your calves. you lift your hand and bring it to his face, letting your finger drag along the curve of his jaw. it may just be your imagination, but you swear you can feel him shiver at your touch. “you were practically begging for this just a second ago. but if you changed your mind, i’ll get up and go.”

“no.” he shakes his head, the hair against his comforter growing frizzy with the careless movement. his hands come up to rest on your hips. “please stay.”

“ah-ah.” you knock his hands away and panic flashes over the man’s face. “no touching. you have to earn that.”

he swallows thickly and gazes up at you with curiosity swimming in his eyes. “h-how?”

“be good for me,” you tell him, the grin apparent in your voice. you brush the stray strands of hair away from his face before leaning down just like yuta had to you only moments earlier. this time, you’re sure that he shivers when your whispered voice tickles him as you ask, “tell me what you want me to do.”

your fingernails graze over his exposed skin—down his neck, over his shoulders, along his collarbone, anywhere you reach. it’s meant to be no more than a way to keep you busy while you wait for a reply from yuta, but he seems to enjoy the touch and the way goosebumps raise following the drag of your nails. although his quiet moans are easy on the ears, it’s a bit boring for your taste. your hand slows on its path in search of an answer. “hmm?”

you’re almost convinced that his voice is stuck in his throat when his request finally fills the air. “k-kiss me, please.”

you waste no time fulfilling his wish, brushing your lips over the same spots your fingers had just been, stopping every now and then to press them down in soft kisses. they grow deeper as you traverse against his smooth skin, love bites marking the once spotless canvas. by the time you make your way up to his lips, your kiss is hungry, almost desperate on your end and his—like the both of you have been silently waiting for this time to come.

as much as you enjoy yuta’s pillowy lips against yours and the way he melts for you when your tongue slips past them, you have a desire for more. you keep that bit to yourself so as not to feed yuta’s existing albeit dormant cockiness, though, you are willing to nudge him in the right direction.

you pull back from the kiss, still close enough that yuta can feel your breath when you speak. “don’t tell me all you want is for me to kiss you. there must be something else…”

there are a lot of things that come to mind, a lot of things yuta has dreamt of doing with you, but one rises above the rest. he can only hope that you’re willing to indulge him. “would you…” his voice trails off as he turns his head to the side, avoiding your gaze.

“go ahead,” you start, grabbing his chin and turning his head so that he’s looking at you, “ask me.”

he’s never felt this hesitant before but none of the women he’s slept with have been you. they’ve never made him ask for what he wants, patiently waited until he verbalized his desires. and he hasn’t wanted that, no, not from them. as foreign as the task is, he’ll do it if that means finally getting a taste of you.

despite the warmth spreading over his cheeks, yuta forces himself to hold your eye. “can you—can you please sit on my face?”

hearing the words pass his lips makes your heart jump in your chest. the goal had been to get him to admit what he craved the most but part of you believed that yuta was still holding onto his old ways, too bashful and shy to come clean about his needs. perhaps you’re holding onto a version of him that he’s left behind for good, though, you want to see for yourself. “you really want me to?”

“god, yes, please.” his fingers dig into the comforter beneath him in an attempt to keep from touching you like you told him even though he’s itching to. he’ll be patient, be good, for you. “i want to taste you so bad.”

shy little yuta really is gone.

but you suppose it isn’t all that bad.

you crawl forward over him to situate yourself. his breath is warm against your bare thighs and it makes your skin prickle. you hike the skirt you’re wearing up your legs so the fabric doesn’t obstruct your view of his face—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see the show.

“you aren’t going to take off your panties?” yuta asks. he’s only inches away now and he’s sure if he tilted his head up just a little bit, he’d be able to stick his tongue out and reach you.

you shake your head with a smile. “i’ll tell you when you can move them. you can lick me through them for now.”

there’s a complaint ready on the tip of his tongue about how he wants to taste and feel you—only you, but he bites it back, figuring that you’ll revoke your generosity entirely if he seems ungrateful. patience, he reminds himself. if he’s patient, he’ll have all of you soon enough.

he wets his lips before diving in, tongue sloppily licking at the layer of cotton keeping him from you. despite the barrier, he can make out your landmarks—the lips he’s wishing his tongue could slip between and your clit that he desperately wants to suck on. even though it isn’t quite what he was expecting, he eats you out through your panties like a man starved.

the fabric is soaked through now and if it weren’t for the hint of you on his tongue, yuta would wonder whether it was his spit or your arousal leaving a darkened spot on your panties. the thought that he got you wound up enough to soak through your underwear oddly fills him with a sense of pride—feeds the ego you claimed he had earlier. he had brushed it off then but it’s hard to ignore now considering that you’re the woman he’s wanted to do this with for the longest.

yuta is a lot more talented with his tongue than you anticipated he would be. you can’t remember the last time someone drew such satisfied noises from you—sharp gasps that you suck in whenever he happens to brush against your clit and musical moans that fill the room when he finds that magical rhythm. you’re beyond pleased with his performance, but an unwelcome thought nags at the back of your mind as the man eats you out; just how many women did it take him tongue-fucking for it to feel this good? you know you shouldn’t say it, but you voice your thoughts anyway. the question comes out breathy, “did you learn to use your tongue like this on all those other girls?”

“they–” he starts, licking you once more before continuing, “they were all practice for you.”

the ache between your thighs grows all the stronger with his confession. you don’t doubt the sincerity of his words—if there’s one thing that you know yuta will never abandon, it’s his honesty. you can admit to yourself that you were jealous earlier, jealous of all the women yuta decided to sleep with instead of you. the envy has all but dissipated now that you know you’ve always been the object of his affection.

“push them to the side,” you tell him hurriedly. yuta doesn’t waste a second following your command, hooking a finger on your panties to drag them to the side. your glistening wetness is hypnotizing and if he wasn’t already salivating this sight would surely be enough to have him drooling. he thinks he could stare at your pretty pussy all day but what he really wants is for you to come on his tongue.

before you know it, he’s lapping at you like your arousal is the very water that he needs to survive. there’s saliva running down his chin as he savors the taste of you. the vibration of his moans against you serves as a means to work you up even more, moans and whimpers of your own bubbling up from your chest.

it’s nearly impossible for you not to grind down on him, to ride his face like there’s no tomorrow. yuta doesn’t mind being trapped between your thighs, only being able to breathe in your heavenly scent and taste your honey-like essence. his tongue glides between your folds, teasing your entrance with each up on down.

“ride my tongue,” yuta’s muffled voice sounds from below you. “use me to come.”

and you do, rocking your hips against his face in rhythm with the salacious movement of his tongue. each flick of the muscle is a drop in your cup that’s filled to the brim, threatening to spill over and flood at any moment. all it takes are a few swirls of his tongue around your sensitive pearl for a wave of pleasure to wash over you. your thighs tremble with your orgasm and your back arches as the aftershocks ripple through you all while yuta continues to languidly stroke your cunt.

he hums against you as you come down from your high, leaving a kiss on your clit before telling you, “you taste so good.”

the compliment makes your heart flutter. “you think so?”

he nods, or at least tries to from his place between your legs. “the best i’ve ever had.”

“well then i guess it’s only fair for me to return the favor,” you suggest, letting your head loll to the side. you can practically see the gears turning in yuta’s head but he doesn’t speak up to question you, instead, waiting for your clarification. “what do you say; want me to suck you off?”

thanks for reading! reblogs + comments are greatly appreciated :))

[lovely-rubeum]

affirming word.

your first argument with al haitham is one you are sure you’ll never forget. not because of his piercing words and the cold way he stares back at you, but because of his desperate reassurance. the soft way he held you as apologies were uttered, and the gentle way he cared for every tear you shed.

a/n: waah this is my first fic on this account !! cheers ^^

w/c: ~1.5k

warnings: not proof read (im lazy my bad) mentions of arguments, insecurities. hurt/comfort

al haitham has been in maybe, one relationship before this one, you gather. there’s a certain coarseness to the way he approaches love and being in love with you that bleeds with lack of experience. it is not a slight against him, in fact, you’d consider it the furthest from that. you are honored to have been so cherished by someone who claims to not have time for trivial things. if al haitham is good at one thing, beyond mathematics or research or memorization, it is making you feel like you are not and will never be “trivial” to him. he remembers every date, he recalls every small detail, and he does everything he can, even in his busy schedule to make time for you. because you are the one he chose, and you are beyond his preconceptions about the usefulness and reason for “falling in love,” or other trifling activities.

so, when he calls you just that -- useless and pointless and trivial, it stings. and it stings for more than an hour, after the silence has settled in your shared living space and dinner has gone cold. it stings every time he looks at you, unable to control his cold and calculating frustration. even by the time said frustration is no longer directed at you but at himself for getting caught up -- for the escalation to petty insults rather than progress towards a natural solution. even as you both stand up and say you’re sorry for hurting each other and promise to listen and care. you are still left stinging. you ache all over, even as you lie in bed with him, his warm arms pulling your form close as you both whisper declarations of retreat, compromise, and love. you close your eyes and take in his scent, woody, almost a bit musky and just a twinge reminiscent of a well kept library. you would find solace here, but you cannot help but ache. your eyes sting with salt and self-admonishment as you sleep, feeling as though the two of you are left further apart than you were before.

it’s been several days now. the sounds of the bustling streets and the near silence of the akademia’s halls do nothing to comfort your still stirring heart. you see al haitham every day, you tell him you love him every day (because you do, and you’ll be damned before the aftermath of a finished argument tells you that you do not). he echoes the same, but still you think

trivial? were you nothing but pointless and foolish? did your beloved boyfriend, in times of distress, think of you as the very things he swore not to make you feel you were? it hurts to feel distant from him, but you’re sure he hasn’t noticed. in fact, you think it’s better that he hasn’t noticed. he’s a busy, busy man. and, really, he shouldn't be worried about something as frivolous as the way you feel about a pain that’s passed silently for days. you’ll get over it, because you’ve already talked and you love him and that should be enough.

but you forget, that al haitham, while not a fool, is foolishly in love with you. he is a man that gets what he needs and what he wants and when there are obstacles in his path he devises clear plans to avoid them. the only thing he would readily admit to making mistakes over is you. you and your smile that lights up his entire world, you and the way you care for him and challenge his mind in the most electrifying way. you who holds him as he sinks into the depths of his mind, and you who promises him eternity, irrational as that may be. so when you distance yourself, drowning in your own hurt, al haitham is planning. your wounds are like aching scars on his back. prickling with pain and a reminder of his failing, not to himself, but his failing to provide you with the world as you deserve. he sits in his office, stiff and cautious. what on earth could it be that has sent you away from him? what sort of thorns have coated your heart and how should he cut through them to get to you? 

you don’t think much of it, when you’re called into al haitham’s office today. you expect nothing more than an update about his findings. you’ll walk in, say hello, chat for a time until you realize you’ve veered off course and then you’ll depart with timid “i love you”s and you’ll stare into the silence as you hope for the short moment to lift your heart the way it had before it was wounded. you do not expect to see him staring anxiously at the door as you enter. you do not expect him to run a hand through his pretty gray hair and quietly ask you a question.

“could you lock the door?” you do, but you’re holding your breath. dread floods your veins and you cannot help but feel intimidated as he stands and approaches you. in an attempt to flee from your racing mind and heart, you change the subject.

“hi, dear. did you need something? i should have given you the report from—” you’re silenced by the worried look on his face. it’s a foreign expression, one where his shining, always focused eyes dart around you with a mixture of something like fear and hurt, and one where his built arms hang awkwardly at his sides as he figures out what to say first.

“there’s something wrong,” he starts. your breath hitches and you’re forced to break eye contact. al haitham frowns. “please don’t do that. please look at me.” the plea hurts your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to do just that. you try to wave it off.

“there’s nothing—” but the shake in your voice betrays you. he waits for you to open up. for you to take the first step, because your comfort is his priority, but you can tell with the tension in the air that he will cut through if you do not. al haitham gets what he needs, and what he needs more than life is your happiness. you’re sure of that now, as you look back at his expression, endlessly full of concern for you. you can’t bring yourself to lie anymore. “okay, maybe there is something.”

“may i inquire?” he says it so timidly you’d think he’s another person. you can’t stop yourself from sighing. 

“i just… it’s stupid. i don’t think it’s worth making a big deal. i’ll be over it soon.” the deadpan look on his face says otherwise.

“you have been… apart from your usual self. for longer than three nights. i’m worried about you.” al haitham’s admission is shaking, but resolute. his soothing voice quakes just the slightest bit, but he refuses to back down. you cave at his look, just as you always do.

“i‘m just… still hurt. over what you said, when we argued? i didn’t want you to feel bad since we already moved on from the problem but i keep thinking about it and hearing it in my head. you called me trivial.” al haitham pauses, as if recounting the event. you continue. “i know you probably didn’t mean it, but i can’t help but think that maybe…”

“stop,” he says with a gentleness reserved only for you. he places his hands gently on your shoulders while silently asking for permission in his gaze to pull you close. you nod, and suddenly his hand is patting the back of your head softly, as if you’re the most cherished being in the universe itself.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” you feel your eyes welling up with tears as he holds you close and admits fault. he pulls away slightly, but only to dry your tears with his thumb.

“you are everything to me. and it was only foolish of me to have allowed things to progress to this point. i would move mountains and slay the worst of foes just to see you happy. i have taken away part of your smile, even for a second. and for that i am so sorry.”

there is a tenderness in his eyes. you couldn’t imagine a more beautiful expression if you tried, and it is then that you realize he is not used to wearing this expression. he is clumsy in the way he squeezes you, and although he is intelligent, he is also inept in maintaining his usual aloofness as he reassures you that you will never be a waste of his time. it is then too, that you notice the fear squandering his composure as he promises to love you for what may be the millionth time.

you relax and while you cry in his arms, you allow al haitham’s affirming word into your heart, never to be shaken again.