#seriously if only someone had given him LOVE in the first place he would never rebel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

literally-loco · 6 months ago

Text

Lend a Hand? (18+)

Pairings : Johnny “Soap” Mactavish / Fem!Reader / Simon “Ghost” Riley Content Warnings : PIV Sex, Oral (Fem receiving) Voyeurism, She/Her pronouns used, [slut] used, praise Word Count: 3K A/N: This is my first time actually posting my writing-thank you SO much for reading xoxo

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“You want me…to fuck your best friend?”

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You almost dropped the dish you were scrubbing and looked over at your boyfriend in disbelief. Did he seriously just ask that, like it was nothing?

“What?” By the look on his face, you wondered if you’d misheard him. That was the face of someone asking what you wanted for dinner, or if you’d taken the bins out.

“What’d you say Johnny?” You asked, letting the plate fall softly back into the soap(hah funny) filled water.

“Simon. Think you’d ever fuck him?” He barely looked up from his phone, letting his arm drape lazily over the back of your well-loved sofa. It wasn’t your hearing messing up-he’d actually said that. You faltered slightly, turning around to look at your boyfriend.

“I mean-Johnny where’s this coming from?” You asked hesitantly. Johnny had never been an insecure boyfriend-he’d proudly show you off to his friends at any given chance. You’d be the one to choose the less revealing outfits, he was just so desperate to show his friends how lucky he got.

“He’s been in a bad mood lately. ‘Think he needs a good fuck.” Johnny finally met your gaze, placing his phone down on the console table to give you his full attention. “I haven’t said anything yet-not to him.” He clarified, clearing his throat as he spoke. ”I trust him to not be a stupid bastard-most of the time-and, you know, he’s not a bad looker-“

“You want me…to fuck your best friend?” You cut him off, a shocked look on your face. You hadn’t thought about it before, hell, Johnny hadn’t brought it up before. You’d never really thought of Simon in that way, the man that managed to darken any doorway with his sheer presence. The man with eyes so deep you could spend days exploring them. The man who never gave away so much as a hint of who he really was-the man who you could spend hours interrogating and all you’d get was a migraine.

“I mean, yeah? Only if you want to hen, completely up to you.” His words were gentle, not pushy or pressuring, but a question. “I’d be in the room with you, right next to you if you wanted. And it’s Simon-not just anyone, Si-“

“I’ll do it.” You answered-suddenly quite sure of yourself. You’d had sex with people other than Johnny, sure, but never whilst you were dating anyone. It was new, that’s for sure, but was new necessarily bad? Johnny would be right there-he said so, and it was Simon. You’d met him countless times. And he was Johnny’s best friend-his brother in arms.

“Grand, I’ll shoot him a message.”

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Three days has passed since Johnny had sent the message, and all you’d got in response was “Ok.”.

You opened the door, expecting your shopping, and was instead met with the wall that was Simon. You felt warmth creep up your neck to your face as it dawned on you. Today was the day. What felt like minutes passed, and you were still stood in the doorway.

“Am I coming in?” His gruff voice asked, placing a gloved hand on the doorframe. You quickly moved to the side, and he walked his way in. “So we’re doin’ this?”

“Ah-yeah! You can still back ou-“

“No.” He cut you off, turning back to meet your gaze with those explorer worthy eyes. “I want to.” You just nodded, glancing back to wonder how a man could spend so long in the bathroom.

Johnny welcomed Simon soon after, pulling him into a hug, before leading him to the sofa. Unsure of how exactly this was going to go, you stood beside your boyfriend, letting a hand rest on his shoulder for comfort.

“Come sit down lass.” Johnny murmured, pulling you onto his lap as he continued talking to Simon about when they were next needed on base, the gentle rhythm of his finger gently stroking your thigh easing the building anxiety of what was to come.

“We doin’ this?” You glanced over at Simon’s sudden words, and caught sight of the small grin that had appeared on your boyfriend’s face. “Hope it’s not too..err..rushed-I assume Johnny already made out that I was some sex starved bastard.” Johnny snorted at that, his light strokes on your thigh soon turned into him gripping it tight, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

“Bit eager to fuck my girl, aren’t you Simon?” His grip stayed firm, almost holding you in place on his lap.

“Never said I wasn’t, Johnny.” Simon retaliated, his gaze staying fixed on you, those blue eyes meeting your gaze beneath his ever so familiar mask.

“Ready hen?” You barely had time to choke out a small “Yes” before Johnny was lifting you up, and carrying you into your shared bedroom.

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You were used to the familiar sense of Johnny tossing you onto the bed with the greed of a starved man entering a banquet, but this time he ever so gently placed you down.

His gaze turned to face the shadow darkening your door frame, and spoke firmly. “Traffic lights rule apply-Green for go, amber for slow down, red for stop.” He shifted his body so he was facing you, his perfectly blue eyes meeting your gaze. “You still wanna do this? You can back out anytime lovie-mean it. He won’t be mad-neither will I.” His tone was gentle, but firm in a way that evidenced he meant what he said. You met his lips with yours, planting a soft kiss on his.

“I know. I want to.” And you did. Three days had passed-but it had been on your mind. How Simon would be the one to fuck you. How the hands you’d ever only seen gloved would be all over you. You’d wondered how he’d fuck you-would he be gentle? All soft words and soft hands. Would he be rough? Moving you around as if you weighed nothing, whispering harsh words into your ear as he ravaged you. It was enough to get you flushed in bed, lying next to Johnny.

“Don’t just stand there then Simon-not when she’s already on the bed, looking this pretty for you.” Johnny sat down in the corner chair, his gaze never leaving Simon-as he watched him slowly walk up to the bed.

You’d never considered the size difference before this. Johnny was tall, yes, but Simon was big. He easily towered over you, even when he crawled onto the bed, right by your legs.

His hands slowly met your legs, and a shiver ran down your spine. Even with those gloves on, you could still feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to how cold you felt. Gently pushing your legs to the side-his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any hint of discomfort-he settled in between them, blocking out the brightness from the ceiling light.

His hands continued their wander, up your lower legs, over your knees, and settled on your thighs. “This okay?” His rough voice asked, and you nodded. “Need an answer, I asked you a question, didn’t I?” You hadn’t expected him to sound so assertive, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah-Yeah that’s okay.” You murmured, keeping your gaze on his masked face.

“Good.” His hands continued their journey, ending up on your waist, just under your shirt. “Want to lose this?” He gently teased the seam of your shirt, and you nodded once more. “Gotta speak up for me lovie.”

Once you’d consented, he carefully supported your back up, and lifted your shirt over your head.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He murmured-quiet enough that maybe you weren’t supposed to hear. His gloved hands ran up your torso,

thumbs gentry stroking the skin just under your bra-wire. You sat up, gently moving him off you to reach behind your back. Simon scooted back, confused at first and searching for the uncertainty in your eyes. But when your bra fell forward, and you tossed it off the bed, his eye lit up. “So eager for me..” He murmured, lunging forward with his mouth stopping just over your nipple.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You murmured, taking a deep breath when you realised what he was about to do.

Barely waiting a second after you answered, he reached up to lift the mask onto his nose, revealing his scarred mouth. In an instant, his mouth was on your nipple, licking and sucking on it as if he would never be able to again. One of his hands moved to tease your other nipple-drawing a soft, desperate sound out of you. He captures it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching slightly to harden it between his fingers.

Desperate to pull that beautiful sound out of you again, he swapped over, palming your now damn breast with the gloved palm of his hand. “Such pretty fucking tits.”

“Aren’t they just?” Johnny’s voice chimed in, and your gaze turned to him. He got up out of his chair, and strode over to the bed. Crouching beside you, he planted a soft kiss on your lips. “Keep looking at him hen-keep those pretty eyes on him.” You nodded, turning your gaze back to Simon, and found his eyes staring up into yours. You’d never seen him so blissed before, suckling on your tit like he’d never see one again.

“You like that, eh? Having my best friends hands on you, teasing you, touching you?” Johnny murmured in your ear, and turned your face back when you went to look at him. “What did I say? Eyes on him.”

All you could do was let out a pretty whine when he pinched your nipple between his finger-sending jolts of pleasure down to your cunt, and earning a sharp inhale from Simon.

“She liked that, didn’t she L.T?”

Simon lifted his head, palming your breasts with his hands.

“You want some more hen? Is that it?” Your boyfriend murmured, and Simon’s hands slid off your tits, and down your torso until they rested on your hips. He-awkwardly-shuffled down the bed, until his head rested on your thigh.

“Are we losing these?” Simon murmured, his fingers resting on the hem of your shorts.

“Please…Simon..” You gasped, watching the small smirk appear on his face.

“So sweet for me-aren’t ya?” He breathed, gently pulling down your shorts and panties until you could kick them off.

“She’s awful sweet when she wants to get fucked.” Johnny chuckled, his hand on the back of your head to force your gaze down to Simon.

“All this, just from me worshiping those pretty tits?” You instinctively went to close your thighs, but his hands pushed them back open. “I’m not hearing red.” Simon’s eyes went up to meet yours, as he licked the first stipe up your folds.

You swear you met God.

A soft whine escaped your lips and the vibrations of his low chuckle ran up your spine. “So fucking sensitive-aren’t you?” You watched his eyes flutter shut as he darted his tongue over your bundle of nerves, and you couldn’t help but arch your hips into him.

Simon ate pussy like it was his last meal. He wasn’t sloppy, but you were sure the combined effort of his saliva and your wetness had made you a sopping mess for him. His hands left your inner thighs-and you didn’t quite understand why until you felt his thumb circling your clit. One gloved hand rested on your lower stomach, as you bucked your hips into his face. “Yeah-you’re real sensitive.” He murmured, his mouth taking over from his thumb, making what you assumed was a figure of eight over your clit.

With the ungloved hand-his middle finger gently teased your hole, until he pushed it inside to gently begin fucking you on his finger.

You definitely met God.

You should’ve guessed his hands would be thick-he was huge-but this was something else.

“You like that, hen? Knowing that my best friend is knuckle deep inside you, fingerfucking you.” Johnny whispered in your ear, planting soft kisses on the underside of your jaw. ”You love this. Knowing that whilst I’m planting kisses here-Simon is worshiping your drenched cunt.”

You bit your lip to stifle the gasps and whines that threatened to escaped, when something else pressed against your lips.

“Open.” Johnny murmured, and you tasted leather. Simon’s glove. “Bite down.” And you did-eyes rolling back as Simon added another finger inside you, stretching you.

“Ain’t that a sight L.T? These beautiful fucking tits, hard and wet, and her face blissed out whilst she has to bite down on your glove.”

You swear you heard Simon groan at the sight, increasing the speed of his hand, as his thumb found your clit again. Your back arched up at the sensation, and you heard him chuckle.

“Squeezing my fingers so fucking tight-you gonna cum? Going to cum on my fucking fingers?” All he got in response was your stifled whines, your gaze still meeting his. It was too much and not enough at the same time-your hips rocked against his hand, and the way his thumb drew circles on your clit had that tight knot inside you tightening, and tightening.

“C’mon lovie-cum for me.”

And all at once you felt that knot unravel-and you were soaring off the cliff. Simon’s hands gripped your shaking thighs, fingerfucking you through your orgasm. “Oh good girl…was that good? Looked so fucking good, didn’t she Johnny?” Simon murmured, planting soft kisses on your inner thighs.

“Looked beautiful hen.”

“Gonna let me fuck you doll?” Simon groaned, pulling his fingers free from your dripping wet pussy. “Gonna let me fuck you senseless, until you can’t even think?”

“Mmph-please Si..-“ You whined around his glove, clenching around nothing. Johnny chuckled, tilting your head up to face him. “Real fucking polite for someone fucking their boyfriends best friend.” He teased, forcing your head to look back at Simon.

You’d imagined a lot about this moment, but what you hadn’t considered was his size. Johnny was big, but Simon was huge. Uncut, and tilting slightly upwards, and perfect.

“God she’s drooling over it L.T.” Your boyfriend cooed, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Drooling all over that fucking glove.”

Simon crawled up the bed until he was kneeling between your legs, the tip of his cock just ghosting over your pussy. “It’ll hurt for a bit lovie, but I know you can take it. Red and we stop.” His hands gripped your hips, digging into the flesh hard enough you were sure it’d bruise. He was gentle at first-pulling your hips close so he could push in. The moan that escaped around the glove was downright dirty, but you kept your gaze on him.

It took a while, and patience, but he bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against yours. And the filthy moan that shuddered out of him was incredible.

“Just gonna sit there Simon?” Johnny teased, and was met with a stern glare.

“Recalculating Johnny. Didn’t realise how fucking-Jesus-tight she’d be.” He panted, pulling out nearly completely, before thrusting back in. “And so-so fucking warm.” He gasped, shuddering slightly as he thrust into you once more.

“Taking him so well hen, isn’t she Simon?” Johnny cooed in your ear, his hand resting on your throat.

“So-so fucking good.” Simon uttered back, getting a firmer grip on your hips as he picked up a regular pace.

“Such a good little slut for us, fucking my best friend whilst I watch.”

Simon let out a breathtakingly beautiful moan at that word-his head falling back slightly. “She-she fucking squeezed me Johnny.”

“She likes being a slut, don’t you hen? A little slut that gets fucked.” Your boyfriend chuckled, and Simon picked the pace up.

“Is-is that it? You like being fucked?” Simon groaned, drawing a string of moans to escape your lips as he picked up the pace. “Yeah you do-you love having your boyfriend watch you fuck someone else.”

His fingers found your clit again-and your legs instinctively squeezed around his waist. “Atta-fucking-girl.” Simon growled, the one hand gripping your waist moving to rest just over your collarbones. “Like that? Like having someone tower over you whilst they fuck you into the mattress?” He leaned over you completely, his head resting in the crook of your neck to leave open mouthed kisses.

“Gonna cum again? Gonna cum on my cock-yeah, you are.” His voice was rough in your ear, and you felt that knot tightening in your lower abdomen again. “Squeezing me so fucking tight-God you’re so fucking perfect. Wanted to fuck you for ages.” He shuddered, his rhythm faltering slightly. “Every time I saw you-those fucking eyes. Knew I needed them looking up at me as i f-fucked you.”

“Gon-gonna-“ You whined against the glove, no doubt biting through it at this point. And that was it-that knot unraveled once more, leaving your legs trembling around his waist.

“Gonna cum lovie-gonna fuck-fucking-“ He gasped, quickly pulling out as hot cum splashed onto your lower stomach.

It wasn’t until you heard Johnny’s own shuddering gasp that you realised he’d gotten off on this. How you didn’t consider he maybe liked watching, it was unknown.

“Open.” Simon’s gruff voice sounded next to your ear, cleaning the cum off your stomach with his fingers. You obeyed-and his fingers set on the flat of your tongue. You sucked on his fingers-until he pulled them out, and took the glove off of your chest.

“How’d you feel now Simon?” Your boyfriend teased, earning a tired glare from Simon.

“Should be asking her that. She’s been so fucking good for me.” His eyes bore down into yours as he knelt between your trembling thighs.

“Let’s get you cleaned up hen.” And you were scooped off the bed, your boyfriend carrying you into the en suite bathroom.

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It was gone ten by the time Simon went home, and you’d ended up curled on the sofa with Johnny. “How was that hen?” He murmured, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

You hummed, looking up at him. “Do you want to do it again sometime?” You asked your boyfriend, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“I think that can be arranged.”

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#simon ghost riley #cod smut #john soap mactavish #smut #ghost cod #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #soap cod #writing #fanfic #loco writes

577 notes · View notes

literaila · 9 months ago

Note

kid megumi and gojo definitely took bubble baths together while megumi washes his hair and satoru's just yapping about how much he loves reader

“megumi,” gojo says, not even bothering to knock on the door.

it’s the boys fault, really, for leaving it open in the first place.

megumi stills, brows furrowing as his hands stop foaming the soap in his hair. “gojo?” he asks, a bit disbelieving.

he might be going crazy—it’s not uncommon for sorcerers. and megumi barely thought he would make it to fourteen and here he is, so. he should probably tell someone about the hallucinations but—

“you got it,” gojo answers, predictably, sitting on the toilet seat. “i need to talk to you.”

megumi peaks his head around the shower curtain slowly, blinking a few times to make sure the man is really there.

but he is, grinning at the tiny bit of megumi he can see, tapping his fingers on his knees obnoxiously.

megumi points a hand towards the door. “this is an invasion of privacy.”

“megumi,” gojo gives him a bland look. “i’ve seen you naked.”

“that’s creepy.”

gojo sighs, hanging his head. “we’ve known each other for so long now, and you still don’t trust me.”

“you still haven’t given me a reason to. can’t this wait? or not happen? i don’t want to talk to you.”

yes, megumi is still hanging halfway out of the shower. yes, his hair is dripping water on the floor. no, he does not care—it’s gojo’s house anyway. he can fix the ruined floorboards.

“it’s about your mother.”

at that megumi blinks. “what’d you do?“

“i didn’t do anything.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” gojo scoffs, reaching out to pull his ear—which megumi expertly deflects (he almost slips and dies in the process). “am i crying on the floor right now?”

megumi considers it. then he recalls the last time you and gojo had a fight. he had to check gojo’s pulse every time he walked past the couch.

“good point. what is it?”

“as you know, her birthday is coming up—“

“are you serious?”

“megumi.” gojo’s eyes are dubious, his voice is disapproving. “your mothers birthday is very important.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “i know. i mean, are you seriously asking me about this right now? im in the shower. there’s shampoo in my hair.”

gojo nods very seriously. “it’s the only place she won’t hear.”

“she’s not even home.”

“she’s hidden cameras, megumi, i know it.”

“no she hasn’t.”

gojo pouts. “i want it to be a surprise. she always finds out about her gifts before i can give them to her.”

“that’s because you tell her.”

“the suspense is too much. i need you to buy her something for me and hide it so i don’t know what it is.”

he sounds absolutely serious, which might be the worst part of that request, actually.

and when has megumi ever done gojo a favor?

“gojo,” megumi gives him a little smirk, tilting his head. “i’m not doing that.”

gojo groans, falling onto the floor. “c’mon, megumi, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“you’re my teacher, if anything.”

“and your father,” he juts his chin, “favoritism is not cute.”

“good.”

megumi finally turns around. gojo was never going to leave, even if he’d attempted to tackle him out of the door.

and he’s used to this, anyway. there hasn’t been a day in seven years that he’s gotten some peace.

“okay,” gojo begins again, sounding like he’s won—which he hasn’t. “i was thinking some jewelry, but you know how picky she is. and besides, she’s too rough for something small. tsumiki is already getting her that chibi mug we saw in that corner store last weekend, and whatever you’re getting is off of the table too.”

“i’m not listening to this.”

“i could take her out to dinner, but that’s not a gift. and i do that anyway. maybe i should buy her a car—what kind do you think she’d like? something blue, like my eyes—“

megumi groans.

gojo pauses. “did you get soap in your eye?”

honestly, banging his head against the wall might be better than this. at least they have pain killers at the hospital.

megumi doesnt answer, no longer entertaining this, but gojo continues anyway.

“maybe we should re-do the bathroom, you know how she’s always saying that—“

god, when will it end?

477 notes · View notes

wanderingsoul6261 · 1 year ago

Text

Believing a False Lie

Credit for gif goes to fabiolajyx

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: James takes part in a nasty dare to try and get the get the nerdy and social outcast to date him. He never expected to fall in love though. When Reader hears the truth from some girls at Maxton, she wonders what is true and false, and ultimately begins to avoid James. Will the truth be told and will amends be made?

Warning: Might be some swear words. Bullying takes place. Nothing more than that. the scene with the invitation to Alistair's party is improvised. The pool scene is also improvised.

P.S I got carried away and this really long 😅 excuse any mistakes. I have a sinus headache currently stabbing my skull and I can't take anything yet because certain sinus/allergy meds can effect how well my thyroid meds work.

-----

Y/N was a quiet person. She didn't say much. She took her studies way more seriously than multiple others at Maxton Hall. Some would say that she also went above what she needed to, studying mythology and ancient civilizations. Dedicated her time to be well accustomed to not only national history, but international. If it was within her interest, it did not go unknown by her.

She didn't have many friends, but she did talk often with Ruby Bell and Lin. Y/N was a social outcast and many saw her as that. She knew it. Being quiet and on the sidelines and it was her game, in which she was playing it well. That was until a certain Beaufort stepped in.

He had been dared by Cyril, Alistair, and the others to ask her out on a date. They didn't really care how long that he dragged her along. They just wanted him to do it and then break her heart whenever he was ready.

A sick joke it was.

James was expecting that Y/N might have been smart enough not to go on a date with him, considering her nature and those that she hung out with. Ruby was pretty stubborn and didn't like many of the others that went to the school with them. So he had just about expected Y/N to be the same way.

But she wasn't. And so now the two of them had gone on a few dates, the news oh which spreading around Maxton Hall like a wildfire that was too far out of control to contain. And in the end, James was surprised. Dare he say, even shocked.

James had expected her to be just as everyone had assumed her to be. Nerdy. An outcast. But he only saw someone who was insanely smart and had more to say when you got to know her. She was herself. She didn't try to be someone she wasn't. He surprisingly enjoyed listening to her rambling of whatever topic was stuck on her mind on any given day. Y/N might not have been as beautiful as Elaine or any of the other girls within the school, but James thought that she was gorgeous, nonetheless. Her smile. Her laugh. He had become smitten with her, and every single minute he spent with her, the deeper he was digging his own grave. It was a grave he didn't want out of though.

And as the weeks drew on, his friends had consistently waited for him to dump her. In front of the entire school. But he refused to. James kept pushing and pushing it back until his friends started to tease him about actually liking her. Not that they were far from the truth.

It hurt him at first, that he never did defend her. He stayed silent, but his facial expression was neutral. Deep down he didn't like what they were saying about her. He just didn't know how to approach it. But he knew that he had fallen head over heels for her, and there was nothing he could do to stop his descent.

-----

Currently, the two sat outside the manor that Y/N called home with her parents. They rested sideways on a wooden cushioned swing, James' back against the arm of it and Y/N back against his chest. One of his arms was settled around her waist, while the other laced his fingers with her own. He watched as her other hand flew blindly throughout the air, the hand in his own sometimes joining in the fray before going back to his hand, their fingers interlocking once again.

Most people would have probably been disturbed by her insane knowledge of things that were not necessarily needed to be known. But as she sat against him, constantly having to take deep breaths as she forgot to breath during her explanation of the "The Odyssey", he could only look enamored. James watched her lips as she spoke, not really paying much attention to what was being said, a soft smile adorned his face.

"Are you listening?" James broke out of his stupor, his eyes moving from her lips to her own eyes.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"So, you weren't paying attention?" she asked.

"Oh, I was. About fifty percent of the time. I heard about Circe turning some of Odysseus' remaining men to pigs and then he technically got kidnapped, was it?" he asked, searching her face for approval. Y/N smiled, and his heart pounded. He smiled back at her. That smile was everything to him.

"Yea. She kept him for ten years. Then he was finally able to leave. Although, Poseidon still posed a threat because obviously Odysseus killed his son." And Y/N continued to ramble, and James went back to adoring her like she was the only woman on the planet. Elaine be damned. The arranged marriage wasn't anything. It wouldn't be anything. Not if he couldn't have the one currently in his arms.

James leaned his head down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, lingering for a few seconds, before pulling back. His gaze was met with a frozen Y/N, and a smug grin had adorned his face.

"While I know have your attention. I do apologize love, for interrupting your rambling, but Alistair is having a party in a few nights, if you'd like to attend with me."

"Oh, I don't know. My parents have that gala to host in a few nights and I don't know if they would want me around. I can talk to them though?" She suggested. Y/N eyes had widened slightly, growing nervous already at the thought of attending Alistair's party. She knew where she stood amongst the others at Maxton. James gave her a tiny nod, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles.

"Of course. Do what you have to. In the meantime, I should be going. Parents are expecting me home a bit early tonight."

Y/N nodded and stood up first, extending her hand to James as he followed. He looked down at their joined hands, before staring at her face, flashing her a smile as she looked up at him and flashed one back. Yea. He could get used to that.

On their way through the house, James politely bid her parents farewell, before the two walked out to the front where Percy waited for James. They came to a halt next to the vehicle, and as he turned to look at her, he bowed his head down to press his lips against hers. A soft lingering kiss in which she melted into.

"I will see you tomorrow. Let me know whenever you can if you can come to the party."

"Will do, pretty boy." Y/N flashed another smile. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, before turning around and climbing into the vehicle. James watched her in the window of the vehicle, all the way up until she was no longer visible. When he finally turned around in his seat, he caught Percy's gaze in the rearview mirror. James could only smile as he looked away. The two of them both knew he was head over heels for her.

"Not a word, Percy."

------

"James!" Y/N hurried her pace to catch up to James. He stopped briefly, turning around to look at her before he entered the main doors of Maxton, waiting for her.

"Good morning, Love." He grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Good morning, handsome. Oh, I talked to my parents about the party. They would like my help for an hour or two. But after that, I'm free to go. They were surprised that I asked. In fact, I think they were excited." James looked down at her with a smirk.

"You're a goody two shoes."

"Apparently they're hoping for a rebellious stage." Y/N shrugged, smiling back up at James.

"I wasn't sure if you'd get back to me in time about it." James said. His hand settled on the back of her back, guiding the two of them through groups of students.

"Parents have been busy. I wasn't able to talk to them until I left for school this morning. Sorry it's such a late notice."

"No need to be sorry, just glad you can make it." He answered. They appeared outside of her first class for the day. James stared at her with soft smile, receiving one back.

"Have a good day, gorgeous. I'll see you tonight at the party." He mumbled against her lips, before backing away, flashing her a smile. Y/N smiled back, before walking into the classroom.

----

The time for the party came and for Y/N to say that she was anxious, was an understatement. She would be over dramatic and claim that she was fatally anxious about it, even if that was not such a thing.

Heads turned to look at her as she ventured through the house. She cowered slightly, meeting some gazes and avoiding others. Most actually didn't seem to care, while others had glowered at her. Trying to find James through the crowd proved to be just as difficult as she expected. Y/N released a quiet sigh.

Across the room, where Elain was trying to get his attention, James got a glimpse of her as she walked into the room. He wasn't trying to be cliché, but as he stared at her as the array of colors filled and rotated around the room, the world paused for several seconds. She and everything that she was, was his. He couldn't let that go. No matter the dare he had taken apart in. He couldn't go through with it. Now now. Not ever.

His mouth parted slightly, and his cheeks heated up in a blush.

Y/N was a sight to behold and he knew he couldn't part with her, damned what his friends and the rest of Maxton would think.

He pushed past many in the crowd, slowly making his way to her. James kept his eyes attached to her face, drinking her in and drowning in her appearance. As he drew closer to her, his heart hammered faster against his rib cage.

She was his.

James came to a stop behind her at the same time she unexpectedly took a step back. Y/N collided with his chest and she immediately turned around, scared to see who it might have been.

"James" She let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello, love. Finally made it, I see." A teasing glint in his eye.

"Yea. Sorry. My parents held me back a few extra moments to finish something for their gala. But I'm here now."

"That you are." The two stared at each other for several moments, smiles on their faces, before James motioned to the dance floor, and grabbed her hand as he walked past her, dragging her along with him.

The two started dancing, their bodies almost moving at one. The pop song playing decided their moves for them. The two didn't have much finesse between the two of them, but their moves had complemented each other. They stayed pretty close together, never moving more than a foot away from each other at a time. They were smiling and never broke eye contact unless needed. The two of them were enamored in that moment, enjoying the moment as it came to them.

And then the pop song gave way to a slow song, and they stood in the middle of the dance floor, breathing heavily as they gazed upon each other. As the slow song continued, James edged closer, his arms wrapping her waist, pulling her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. The two of them swayed together for several seconds, before James used his hands to twirled her around, now holding her with her back against his chest. Y/N turned her head to look at him as he laced his fingers through hers. They swayed for several seconds, before the moment was cut short by Elain, who thought to "accidentally" dump her drink on Y/N.

Y/N let out a gasp as Elain said a fake apology, catching a glare from James.

Y/N watched as Elain walked away, a pep in her step, tossing a smug look over her shoulder before she was out of sight. Embarrassed, she frowned, turning her head to look at James.

"I'm think I'm done for the night. I should probably get home and change out." James nodded, a hand still settled on her waist.

"I left my coat somewhere. I can go grab it and me and Percy can take you home." Y/N nodded.

"I'll wait for you outside by the pool." And how that was the bad idea, for the moment she got outside and began waiting for James, Cyril caught sight of her. He advanced on her, wrapped his arms around her to help prevent a fight, and begun tugging her towards the pool.

"Cyril! No please!" She begged.

"Aawww. The nerd doesn't know how to swim, does she?" James came back outside just as Cyril got to the edge of the pool with her, catching sight of the moment.

"Cyril! No!" But before James could act further, Y/N was in the pool. She didn't resurface, and others around them just watched. It was Jame's turn to start to panic.

James ran towards the edge of the pool, before diving in. Upon submerging, he could see Y/N panicking. She reached out a hand for him to grasp onto as he swam towards her, and within seconds, they resurfaced. Besides being already wet, steady tears rolled down Y/N's face as she continued to panic. James hushed her.

"It's okay. Breathe. Just breath. I got you."

And as he trudged out of the water with her, he sent a scowling glare towards Cyril, walking away from the party and towards the car.

On the car ride home, his hand settled on her thigh, her fingers finding homage in his hand, before explaining the story of her brother, who was killed in a boating accident years before she started to attend Maxton.

------

Y/N had though things were good and normal, especially between her and James. They were happy. They made each other happy. So when she walked by what she presumed to be an empty classroom and heard voices, she stopped momentarily.

And she wished that she didn't, for the voices were going on about the dare James had taken part in, trying to date her and how he hadn't broken up with her yet.

Her world shattered. Y/N stood in the hallway for several minutes, tears rolling down her face as she thought back to the last few weeks and how happy she was. Not only that, but how happy she was James and how much she thought he had been happy.

Was it a lie? Was everything he felt for her a lie? Was there any truth to any of it.

Y/N refused to go to school the second half of the week. She couldn't confront James, as she wasn't sure how to go about it, but he knew something was wrong. That much was evident from the numerous phone calls and texts messages gone unanswered. Even then, she could tell he was panicking. But she let him bask in it.

Other than her parents, who supported whatever she wanted to do in that moment, Ruby and Lin were the only ones who knew. And they had made it quite clear to James where he stood, and that although he was already an asshole, pretending to love someone was a dick move.

And that's how he found out.

James' heart had dropped into his stomach, wondering how she might have found out. He had texted the guys lately about it. He hadn't even talked to them in person about it for quite some time, although he did get subtle comments made when he and Y/N were seen together. So he had deduced that the only way she could have heard about it, was by overhearing about it from someone else. But in the end, it didn't matter hoe she found out. All that mattered was that he fucked up, and there was no telling if he'd be able to fix it. The thought of that alone sent his heart twisting into knots.

James had continuously tried and tried to reach out to Y/N. She hadn't blocked him, as his texts and calls still went through. He had almost thought she answered one call, but then had changed her mind and ended it before anything could be said.

His world was shattering around him, and he had no one else but himself to blame. James became distracted. Had even turned a bit bitter toward his friends. It wasn't their fault, he should have came clean to her. It still would have caused issues, but then they had more of a chance of being fixed than now.

To say he was scared was an understatement.

James Mortimer Beaufort was completely and utterly, terrified.

James was trying everything in his power to fix things. He sent letters to her humble abode. Voice messages left in her inbox on her voice were amongst these, and he was surprised when never he reached the limit.

What he didn't know was that if there was anything Y/N listened to during that week, it was those. She listened to his apologies as she laid in bed, her breakfast forgotten beside her and tears becoming a river on her cheeks.

She had several questions, still unanswered. All of his attempts to get back with her, even if she never called anything off in the first place, made her wonder if he truly did care. But if he did, why was he a part of the dare in the first place. Why didn't he come clean? Most importantly. Why was she such an idiot?

And when she finally went back to school?

She avoided him like the bubonic plague.

He tried many attempts to get her to stop and listen to him. Most times he was left alone as she avoided him. She would pull her wrist out of his grasp and carry on, as if he wasn't even there. Sometimes though, he hoped that she would listen, as she would stop, turn to look at him, and wait several seconds as tears began to swell in her eyes. Then she'd walk away, only leaving James to wish he had spoken a bit quicker.

And every time he saw her back disappear around the corner, he felt as if he was slowly losing her.

And as the Young Beaufort line was beginning to become a reality, he had less and less time to fight for her. Even without that, he knew he was running out of time, and James couldn't let that happen.

-----

"Is he still trying to talk to you?" Ruby's voice sounded from the speaker of Y/N's phone. She sat on her bed, picking at her nails, a book lying forgotten next to her.

"Yea, he is."

"Didn't you end things?" Ruby asked, and as Y/N sat there and thought about it. She realized that she technically didn't. Did she want to? Did he do it already? It didn't seem likely as he was still talking to her, but maybe it was still part of the ruse.

"Not technically. No." It was silent for several seconds and Y/N wondered if the phone call ended.

"You're serious?"

"Yup."

"Y/N-"

"Don't." She started. Y/N had already gotten enough shit from other students since being back. The bullying had heightened tenfold.

She had an interaction with two girls within the event committee. Y/N didn't care to know their names because she didn't like them anyways. But they had both dumped their drinks on her clothes, prompting her to leave classes early today.

And what made it worse, as she walked away from the situation? She locked her teary eyes with James. He glowered at the girls who had consistently belittled and bullied Y/N throughout the week. James had opted to give Y/N space, but this time, he couldn't.

He had followed Y/N out of the room and quickly caught up to her. He tried to initiate contact, but she could only turn around and shove him away, crying and screaming at him to leave her alone.

"I don't know what to believe." Y/N finally spoke again to Ruby, who continued to listen on her side of the call. "He's doing everything to fix things, but I don't know if it's apart of a ruse to further the rewards of the dare." She explained, her voice cracking slightly.

"Does he sound genuine?"

Y/N thought to herself for several moments.

"That's the confusing part. He sounds completely geuine."

------

And finally, it was the night of the Victorian donor gala. Y/N had stuck close to Ruby and Lin. She had stayed quiet, slowly drinking her champagne as she conversed with a few students and professors.

She would watch the couples down below slow dancing to songs, and her heart ached because even after everything, she had wished her and James were down there.

"Stop thinking about it." Ruby came up beside her. "Be free tonight." Y/N listened as Ruby talked to her, distracting her. Until it wasn't Ruby distracting her, but a certain someone else. Y/N stared past Ruby down to the ground floor, where she could see James looking around. What he was looking for, she wasn't quite sure. That was, until James looked up, caught her gaze, and held it. His facial expression softened as he looked at her, and that was when Y/N knew who he was here for her.

Her.

Ruby saw that she was distracted and turned to see what she was looking at. She looked down at James. James eyes never left Y/N though. Ruby finally turned back to Y/N eith a heavy sigh.

"I think it's finally time you go talk to him." The comment broke Y/N out of her stupor, in which she didn't hesitate much as she slowly started her descent down the stairs.

It felt like forever before she finally ended up front of James.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"I came to apologize."

"What about the Young Beaufort line?" James was surprised that she cared enough to ask about it.

"It doesn't matter in this moment."

"Then if not that, then what does?" She asked.

"You." James barely let Y/N finished asking the question before he responded. Y/N stared at him for several seconds, tears swelling up in her eyes.

"Why?" She finally asked.

"Truth?" He asked. Y/N nodded. All she wanted was the truth.

"I didn't expect to fall in love with you." James explained.

"And how am I expected to believe you?"

"You don't have to. Just, please, let me explain myself. And then afterward, if you want nothing to do with me, then I'll leave you alone. I promise." Y/N pondered what he said, before she finally nodded.

A slow song started to play, and the two looked at each other.

"May I?" He asked. "If this is the last time we are to do anything together, I'd like one last dance." Y/N's heart swelled, although she hated to admit with the circumstance. She took a few steps closer him, allowing it be his cue. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she wrapped her around his neck. The two started to slow dance.

"I don't know where to begin."

"From the beginning." He nodded, in agreement.

"Okay. So, it was a dare." He confirmed. "Cyril, Alistair and the others dared me that I couldn't get you to go on a date with me. I was honestly surprised that you did."

"I don't see the bad in people. You're a good person, James, and that's what I saw. I saw your caring personality beneath everything else and I fell in love with it." James stared at her as she spoke.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Well, I honestly didn't expect to fall in love with you."

"Genuinely?"

"Genuinely." He confirmed.

"Then why didn't you say something sooner? This could have been avoided." He nodded, agreeing.

"I know. I was just scared. I wasn't sure how you would react, so I went on, hoping you wouldn't find out because I didn't want to risk the potential of losing you."

"But you might lose me know." He heart fell. Was this it? James swallowed thickly before looking at the floor in between their feet as they continued to slowly dance. "Hey."

James looked back up at her and in his expression, she could see that he was terrified.

"I never did technically end the relationship." She gave him a small smile. "Sure, things will need to be worked on and trust reinstated, but I'm willing to work through-" James didn't let her finish what she was saying, enveloping her lips into a searing kiss, in which it only took her seconds to melt into it.

------

Tag list:

@honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @imasimptoowth @sillyfreakfanparty

#james beaufort x reader #james beaufort #maxton hall

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ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 6 months ago

Note

Love your fics!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Would you consider writing Hinny’s first „i love you”?

Love YOU, anon! I have to confess, I don't know if I answered your prompt, because I did write Hinny's first "I love you" in Ch4 of Someone Else's life. I toyed with writing this moment differently at a different time, but realized I think I'm sort of married to the idea of them confessing it right after the battle, and I couldn't think of a way to rewrite the moment in a way that was meaningfully different. So, I hope you don't mind, I wrote the moment Ron realizes Harry & Ginny are in love, instead:

It’s one of those evenings in late May after the battle - when everything seems to blur together and time ceases to have meaning - that Ron seriously considers the possibility that he might have been a bit thick.

Ron’s sat in the lumpy armchair by the hearth at the Burrow staring oddly at Harry and Ginny, tucked together on the opposite sofa. Ginny’s got her feet resting on Harry’s lap, and Harry’s absently rubbing her knee. It’s relatively innocent, as far as seating arrangements go, and yet Ron can’t help but stare at the casual intimacy of it anyway.

They’re back together now. It seems to Ron they must’ve gotten back together the minute they’d had a moment alone after the battle. Ron had left Harry asleep in Gryffindor Tower one minute, and when he’d come back from lunch it had been to find them holding hands in the Common Room.

“You together again, then?” Ron had asked, later. Harry had merely nodded. And Ron supposed that had been that.

Ron hadn’t had the mental space to give the matter much more thought since - there’d been funerals (so effing many), and repairing Hogwarts, and Mum crying, and Hermione, and meetings about Auror training…

He supposes it shouldn’t be surprising that they’re cuddling on the sofa. But, now that Ron at last has the time to think about them for more than a passing moment, he registers that he is surprised. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected it - them.

And why should he have? Harry hadn’t mentioned Ginny at all, had he?

Harry had broken it off with her - in public, at a funeral, of all places - and then never mentioned her again. Never intimated he was sad about their relationship ending, or that he missed her, or that he’d hoped they’d be together again when the war ended. It was partially why Ron had blown up on that awful night in that bleeding tent. Harry hadn’t seemed the least bit concerned with Ginny’s safety.

The closest Harry’d come to anything resembling emotion about it all was his last birthday, when Ron had caught them snogging passionately in Ginny’s room - with the door closed. It had seemed callous at the time, to Ron. One last chance to get a snog in before he left her behind.

Harry and Ginny had only been together a few weeks, after all, much shorter than he and Lavender had been. And while, yeah, it was clear they’d liked each other, how deep could it have been, really? Ron had always assumed it had been new and shallow, maybe mostly physical (as much as that thought disgusted him). Like him and Lavender.

But it couldn’t have been, could it, if they’d got back together so quickly?

Just then, Hermione interrupts Ron’s musings by walking in from the kitchen and handing him a warm cup of tea. Ron sees that she’s made it just how he likes it, and smiles at her - she’s always doing thoughtful things like that.

“Thanks,” Ron says, and drops his arm around her shoulders as she squeezes in next to him on the chair. Her presence beside him feels exactly like the perfectly made cup of tea she's just given him - warm, and sweet, and calming.

He looks up again, watches Harry press a kiss to Ginny’s temple and mutter something to her with a soft look on his face, watches them smirk and share some private joke, and all at once, everything he’d thought about them subtly shifts and changes color.

He allows the inkling, the what if to take shape: perhaps Harry and Ginny had always felt like this together - a warm cup of tea in front of the fire. Maybe breaking it off hadn’t been like breaking it off with Lavender had been, but instead had felt like those long cold months after Ron had abandoned Hermione, when Ron had been tortured, wondering whether she was alive, whether he’d ever see her again.

The worst months of his life.

Ron stares at Harry. His best mate. His brother.

Harry hadn’t said anything about Ginny. But then, he hadn’t about Sirius, either, had he? Or his parents. Or Dumbledore. Ron knew that Harry didn’t talk much about his feelings, but he’d always supposed there were some unfathomable losses that you just couldn’t talk about. Having never experienced one himself - well, until now - Ron had thought that might just be the way it was. He assumed he would know if Harry was upset about something else. Something smaller.

But maybe Ginny hadn’t been something smaller, at all.

The thought that Harry might’ve been heartbroken on top of all the rest of the shite they’d gone through last year rankles.

“Harry was cut up when they broke it off, wasn’t he?” Ron mutters to Hermione, jutting his chin toward Harry and Ginny.

Hermione looks at him as though he’s daft, and he might be. “Of course he was.” She glances over to them to confirm they’re not listening, and then whispers, “I used to catch him staring at the Marauders Map all the time, when he was supposed to be on watch. He’d never tell me, but I think he was… you know, keeping an eye on her.”

The image is so pathetic that at first Ron’s inclined to laugh, but he doesn’t. “Blimey,” he says. “I didn’t… I thought he was alright.”

“Well, you know Harry,” Hermione says, but that’s just what’s bothering Ron, because he’s wondering how it’s possible he hadn’t known this. Hermione takes a long sip of her tea, and then adds, “I’m so happy for them, now, though. They’ve got a chance to be normal.”

“Yeah,” Ron agrees, watching as Ginny pokes Harry’s side playfully and Harry grins. “Normal.”

Ron subconsciously monitors Harry and Ginny for the rest of the evening, the pieces slowly falling into place. The mood is dreadful - it always is, these days - and yet it seems that they’ve carved out a little bubble of contentment in the gloom. A clasp of hands, a nudge to the knee, a sidelong smirk - Ron realizes they’re having a second, silent conversation beneath the family chatter. A private one.

The wireless is on, covering the ongoing match between Ballycastle and Falmouth.

“Everton should pull a Krum and catch the Snitch, sod scoring,” Bill says. “Ballycastle needs some dignity.”

“Or,” Ginny interjects, “he could pull a Potter and take a same-side Bludger to the head, miss the rest of the match. Might be kinder.”

“Everton can only dream of pulling a Potter,” Harry says drily.

“You’re right,” Ginny says. “Only I can do that.”

Harry snorts and Ginny shoots him a playful wink while Bill groans. Ron would ordinarily groan too - he’s staunchly opposed to witnessing them flirt with each other on principle - but tonight… tonight it makes him feel something that isn’t quite happiness, but perhaps its cousin.

Because it occurs to him that they’re always doing that - bantering, setting each other up for jokes. They’d been doing that since before they’d got together, only Ron hadn’t thought anything of it then. Now, though, it strikes him as another piece of evidence he’d managed to overlook in the case he’s building: she makes him laugh.

The match ends, and with it any pretense they have for staying awake. They all stand and begin their zombie-like drift off to bed, still in that surreal state where none of the loss seems quite real, like they all might wake up from it all at any moment. But they don’t.

Ron’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth when he hears quiet murmuring in the hall. He slowly lowers his toothbrush, straining to hear.

Harry and Ginny seem to be loitering outside her bedroom, waiting to use the loo, probably.

“--wants me to wake up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to reorganize the attic–”

“The attic?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. Our ghoul put up a real fuss about moving back up there and wrecked it. Got used to living in Ron’s room, I think.”

“Poor bloke.”

“Yeah, mental that anyone would prefer Ron’s room.”

“Have you considered,” Harry asks drily, “that he’s just become a massive Cannons fan?”

Ginny barks out a laugh, and Ron can’t even find it in himself to be offended on behalf of the Cannons.

“Wow,” Ginny snorts. “Maybe we can plaster the attic with Cannon’s posters. Make him feel right at home.”

They laugh, and Ron finishes brushing his teeth. He clatters loudly so that they know he’s in there, just in case.

“‘We’ can plaster the attic…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ginny says casually. “I reckoned you’d want to help.”

“You reckoned I’d want to get up at, what was it, ‘the crack of dawn’?”

“Before the sun, even.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Ron makes to dry his hands with the towel hanging by the door.

“Because,” Ginny answers, “You love me.”

The towel slips from Ron’s hands and falls with a muffled thump to the floor, so that he nearly misses Harry’s dry reply. “Yeah, fair enough.”

Ron turns his head slowly to stare at the closed door in shock.

“How long is that going to work for, d’you reckon?” Ginny asks.

“Dunno,” Harry says. “Let’s not test it.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

“You‘ll go mad with power.”

“Nah, I won’t,” Ginny dismisses. “I love you, too, so…”

Then there’s a suspiciously long pause that Ron doesn’t care to examine too closely. He’s too dumbfounded, anyway, by the casual admission of love they’d just thrown at each other, clearly not for the first time. He and Hermione hadn’t even said that to one another yet. They weren’t mental - it’d only been a few weeks since the battle.

And yet, here are Harry and Ginny, clearly comfortable enough with it that they’re already at the point of teasing.

The last piece clinks into place, and Ron realizes they must've felt this way for a long time, must've spent the whole sodding war waiting for each other. And he hadn't had any bloody idea.

Ron shakes his head like a waterlogged dog, and then makes a loud clatter of a job of opening the door so they have time to quit snogging or whatever the hell they’re doing before he has to see it.

He finds them with put-upon expressions of innocence on their faces, leaning casually against the wall outside Ginny’s door.

“Took you long enough,” Ginny complains. “What were you doing in there?”

“What were you doing out here?” Ron counters.

“Kissing,” Ginny says flatly, while Harry looks down at his feet. “Had to do something while you powdered your nose.”

Ron rolls his eyes, though he feels less disgruntled than he would ordinarily. “Well get on with it, loo’s open now.”

“Thanks,” says Ginny, not sounding thankful at all. She turns to Harry. “Night, see you at the crack of dawn!”

She stands on her tiptoes and gives him a quick peck, while Ron pointedly looks away. Then, she takes her turn in the bathroom, leaving Harry and Ron in the hall together.

Ron looks up at Harry, noting with some amusement the sheepish, guilty expression on his face. For a moment, an overwhelming desire builds in Ron to say something supremely soppy, like Happy for you, mate or I’m glad you’ve got each other or even Why didn’t you ever mention you were in love with my sister?

But, he thinks better of it, and instead claps Harry gruffly on the shoulder. “G’night, mate.”

“Night.

#hinny #canon compliant #missing dh moment #hinny fluff #ron pov

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howlett-n-morgan · 5 months ago

Text

More Than Words

3. An Advantageous Journey

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, mentions of scars and blood, a few traumatic events and ptsd symptoms, mostly fluff in this one guys… but LOGAN IS A WARNING. Oh and also I’m not from Canada and only have one Canadian friend so my apologies if Canada is depicted poorly… she was like ‘it’s just like America except there’s more snow and some people speak French’

Chapter Summary: Going back to Canada is supposed to be a quick trip that benefits Logan’s memory, but upon arriving, he seems to think that a fews days need be spent on diversions.

Word Count: 15.3k (God help me-)

“Then how were they able to cut you up?” Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording. “Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.” “Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

The professor was the first one to speak to Logan the morning you both planned on leaving the mansion. Everyone was made aware of this, but few people understood why it was so necessary. Even Scott, who had endured some of the same treatment as you and Logan, did not know how to justify such a spontaneous trip in the midst of all the chaos surrounding mutants. Especially after the recent situation with Magneto.

It could be dangerous, but above all things, it could also bring answers. And Logan needed answers. About who he was, what he did, and where he’s supposed to go, now. The pain from his nightmares has subsided only a small bit while being here with everyone. He wants to make them go away for good.

When Charles sits him down in the study that morning, he thinks he understands why. You’re a very important member of the team. He wants to make sure you return, and without a scratch. It makes sense in his mind… but the professor has other ideas for the conversation.

“How long do you both plan on being away?” He asks, keeping a tether on Logan’s mind in case he is even the slightest bit dishonest.

“Not sure,” he began with a sigh, sitting back into the seat he’d been given. “I guess it depends.”

“On what, exactly?” Charles kept his questioning thorough, but not for the reason of interrogating him.

“On what we find.” Logan shrugged his shoulders and raised a brow. He really had no idea what he was going into when you said you’d take him to Stryker’s old bunker. “Guessing from the nightmares I’ve had, it’s not really a nice place.”

“Well, I assure you,” Charles began, turning his chair to the side and reaching for some documents on his desk. “You are in the best of hands. The very best. I just hope you know how lucky you really are.”

“Lucky? How so?” Logan’s curiosity wandered. He knew you were a valuable member of the team, and he was grateful that you would offer him such a strenuous task on your own shoulders, but he caught on that there was more that Charles hadn’t spoken.

“Alice is a rare mutant. Like you, she can stand the tests of time, and never waiver. She is nearly immortal, and takes her job of protecting others very seriously.”

“I picked that up,” Logan nodded in agreement. “She cares a lot about saving people.”

“She cares even more for those who are close to her,” the old man warned, his expression becoming more solemn and serious. “She will go to incredible lengths to keep her loved ones out of harm’s way.”

Logan was beginning to wonder where the point was in all of this. He knew you were the type to look out for others above yourself. You were an X-man, it kind of came as a job requirement… but more than that, he knew you were kinder than most people were, and the help you extended to him was not just a simple favor.

“She has never experienced a bond like she has with you… with human touch.”

He understands now. Your powers, and the impact they have had on you is immense. You have to keep everyone at arm’s length, except for him. He can be let in, and he can do the things that others can’t.

“What exactly are you telling me?” Logan pondered, gruffly. Even with the professor’s point being made, he was still curious as to why he would bring this all up.

“I’m telling you to be careful. She’s already grown strongly attached to you for the sake of your touch, and will likely become fonder in these days to come. I ask you to think about and consider her feelings when you take her with you… If you hurt her, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Logan does consider them, for a split second he considers them. He knows you’re fond of him, otherwise this escapade would not even be happening… but he also knows that his ability to touch you is the defining factor. His feelings for someone else block out any signs that your interest in him could further develop, at least past what it is already. Even with all this in mind, Logan is a smartass, and wants to tempt the man in charge by challenging his threat.

“I can imagine quite a bit,” he smirked, nodding his head side to side.

Charles did not take that comedically whatsoever, and Logan didn’t really expect him to. It was probably a bad idea to open his mouth in the first place.

“You mock me when I’m trying to help you?”

��No sir,” he let out with a breath.

“The consequences I speak of would not be dealt by I or any of her colleagues…”

“Then by who?” Logan asked, his voice not raised, but becoming more prominent as the conversation became more pointed than it was before. “Is there some big bad monster I should be worried about?”

Charles sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Logan only seemed to become irritated the more he spoke. He took a glance into the man’s mind, and found that a beautiful woman with long red hair rested among his thoughts, though he should not be thinking about the woman that is most definitely taken.

“I can see that your mind is clouded by thoughts of someone else,” Xavier changed the subject, tapping into the specific thoughts and trying to gather more details. It appears this conversation was mostly for nothing. Charles sighs, “Do not hurt Alice, Logan. If you do, her pain will become yours.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Logan stood up, assuming this was the last of the professor’s advisory words. He was becoming quickly annoyed with how little the man trusted him, and how intrusive he’d been this whole time.

He wouldn’t lead you on, but he wouldn’t shut you out, either. You’d been so helpful to him, he wasn’t going to push away the one piece of his past that just might bring everything together. That would be foolish of him.

“Logan,” The professor stopped him one more time, and he turned to look at the man, sitting straight and with a firm gaze from his wheelchair. “When the time is right, ask her about a man named Charlie.”

Logan sighed, filing that thought away in his mind before heading back upstairs to pack some of his belongings together.

You never wanted to go back to Canada.

You swore after you got out the first time that nothing good could ever come out of Canada and you stuck to that belief.

But you’d met Logan in Canada, and he wasn’t so bad. Scott, too… although he’d been a teenager at the time and was much more annoying back then.

“On your way already?” Ororo was leaning in your doorway when you looked up, watching you stuff your travel backpack until it could barely zip up on the side.

“About to be,” you heaved it up onto your back, adjusting your posture to hold it correctly, then walked to meet her at the door. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

She grabbed your hand, covered in your little green gloves. “Keep in touch, will you?”

“I will, I promise,” you nodded gently. “I won’t stay away for long.”

“You say that now,” she crossed her arms and shook her head jokingly. “But going away with a guy that looks like that? And he’s the only man in the world that can touch you? Baby, I’ll be lucky if I ever see you again.”

You laughed along with her, giving a warm smile and a nod. “He’s something…”

“He’s ready to go,” Logan teased, coming up behind Ororo.

You blushed, knowing he probably heard the conversation while leaving his room. You avoided making eye contact with him yet, just gave a thin lip smile while looking back to your dear friend and saying your last goodbyes. You only wished you could hug her close to you, for all the years she’s spent in your corner.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Ro.”

“Don’t be a stranger… Call me when you can.” She gave you a strong look, indicating that she was serious, and not just playing along for the sake of goodbyes.

“You know I will…” you trailed, giving her one more squeeze of the hand before walking behind Logan towards the stairs.

Once at the bottom, there was just a slight obstacle. Rogue caught you both leaving, and had a few words to say.

You’d admit, you felt bad leaving her here, especially when you’d been so adamant to her before that you were going to teach her about her powers and how to get used to them without the fear of hurting others. It’s only now that you realize you won’t be able to help in the most detrimental stages of her mutant education… but you would return. You knew you would.

You had to help Logan, first. He was the priority. He saved your life once, and it was time to pay that debt forward.

Logan had left his dog tags with Rogue, along with a promise that he would be back. Of course he would… Or maybe he wouldn’t. You never thought about what could happen if he should find his memories and remember who he is. He might have loved ones and a family to return to…

“She’s got a crush on you,” you mentioned to him once you were out of the house. You looked at him, and he seemed unsurprised. “And she trusts you…”

“I figured that much,” he smirked, walking towards the main garage around the side of the large house.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” He turned to ask you, his features twisted in confusion.

You sighed, stopping at the garage door but making no motion to use the lock pad to open it.

“When you said you were going to come back…” you trailed, scanning your thumb print on the pad so the door would fold up. State of the art technology for the lock, but the same old door from the seventies.

It took him longer than you expected to answer the question, but you figured since it held some weight, it was good that he thought it out clearly.

“Yeah, I meant it.”

You looked to him, the decision he made was worn on his face and it was easy to see he was telling the truth.

“Good,” you nodded, walking inside first and grabbing your keys from your pocket. Logan immediately gave you a glance of mischief, and walked in the other direction.

“Logan, no…”

“Logan, yes,” he taunted, going over to sit on the motorcycle that belonged to Scott. You weren’t going to play this game with him.

“We are not going all the way to Canada on a bike.” You were trying to be the reasonable one here, but he was so damn stubborn. Two could play that game, you were stubborn, too. “Get in the car.”

“Get on the bike,” he nodded behind him, the open seat looking appealing for only a moment. “I know you want to…”

“No, I don’t…” you opened the driver’s side door, and climbed in, shutting it behind you… but he didn’t budge from the damn motorcycle.

When he turned it on, the engine roaring to life and revving from the motions of his hand, you closed your eyes for a split second before doing the worst thing you could have possibly done. You climbed out of the car and went to the motorcycle, swinging a leg over and holding onto him with a big huff. He knew you did it for show, not because you were actually upset.

“Comfy?” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, and you huffed again for emphasis.

“No.”

He just laughed, pulling out of the garage and onto the road.

You would admit, the wind in your hair, and the lovely smell of the pine trees lining the streets was wonderful. All the sights on the way to your destination were quite lovely, and though you could see them from your car just the same, it wouldn’t feel like this.

This feels like flying, almost, with the breeze beneath your wings, and the sounds of nature as you pass through.

Logan can almost sense your smile when you drive by a particular area full of color changing aspens, the scenery surrounding you felt almost like a dream, something from out of a movie.

He never said anything to taunt you about being right, or made a comment about how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. It was silent between you both for hours, until the sun began had set, and you’d finally crossed the border into Canada.

“We’re gonna have to stop soon for the night,” he mentioned when you’d pulled off the road to get something to eat. Just a little rest-stop… gas stations, fast food, the works. You’d spotted a sign a few miles back for a motel, but weren’t sure where to go in order to get there.

“Fill up the tank, I’ll go inside and ask about directions,” you told him, swinging your leg off of the bike and walking away.

He was certain that this dynamic between the two of you was working well already, and that he didn’t need to heed Charle’s words as much as he originally intended. You seemed to go with the flow of things, and were rather easy to get along with… and you didn’t seem to be super into him like the professor said you would be. You cared about him, sure… but he cared about you too, and without crossing any lines.

Filling up the bike, he leaned against the metal machinery, his head dozing back and forth from his tired state. It wasn’t until you returned, holding a map and a bag of gas station pastries that he was fully aware again.

“The guy marked that motel out for me on the map,” you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to him, the red marker lining the road and the turn off. “It’s two exits down.”

“Easy enough.” He took a look at the marked location for himself, waiting for the gas pump to finish topping off the tank.

“I got you a donut,” you said, handing him a paper bag like your own. You’d pulled a maple donut from yours, so he was appalled to find that his was not also a maple donut.

“Chocolate?” His eyebrows raised, only teasing you, but still just slightly butthurt about the donut.

“You don’t like chocolate?” You furrowed your eyebrows, talking with your mouth full of the first bite you took.

“Did they not have any other maple glazed?” he nodded to yours, the joking nature still filling his tone.

“This was the last one.” You reasoned. You found it a little funny, but felt a little bad at the same time.

He huffed, shaking his head, but then you smiled sweetly, holding out the donut with a single bite taken to him.

“I’ll trade you,” you offered, knowing that in the end, it was just a donut compared to the grand scheme of things.

“Thanks,” he muttered gratefully, a sideways smile spreading on his cheeks. He’ll admit, it was a sweet gesture, no matter how small. He handed you the chocolate donut, and took a bite out of the one you gave him. “Maple donuts are for real Canadians.”

“You’re Canadian?” you asked, a bit of surprise coming from you. You met him in Canada, but it was somehow still a shock to you. He seemed very American when you first met him, and even now.

“S’one of the only things I can remember,” he nodded, his demeanor livening up quickly, and all because of a donut.

“Huh,” you stared off, wondering if he’d known Stryker for long before his memory faltered. Clearly he’d been abused by the man, but to what extent, you weren’t sure. You have bits and pieces of memories from that era, and most were just feelings of the energy around you.

“You didn’t know?”

“You didn’t tell me…” you trailed, enjoying the chocolate donut, despite maple donuts being better. Him enjoying it was satisfying enough.

“We should get out of here,” he yawned, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trash can. “Road is dark, and I’m tired.”

“Big, strong, manly… but gets tired on a little road trip?” You teased, finishing up the pastry before throwing away the trash and getting back on the bike with him.

“You try steering this thing all day.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, revving the engine.

“I would, if you’d let me,” you chided, another taunt that you knew wouldn’t end in your favor. He’d never be caught dead on the back of a motorcycle like this with someone else behind the handles.

“Not a chance…”

Having checked into the small motel, you ached for a shower, but given that Logan was practically falling asleep already, you let him go first.

Maybe it was a mistake, he’d been in there for a while, and you thought maybe all the hot water would be gone by the time it was your turn. You just hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep in there, propped against the shower wall.

You might just shower tomorrow at this point, unwilling to wait for the water to heat back up.

With a sigh, you changed into something a little more comfortable, the pair of sweatpants and sweater that were shoved to the bottom of your giant backpack. It was wrinkled as all hell from the journey, but you knew that didn’t matter. It was cozy, and warm, and being in Canada as late fall was setting in meant you needed to be as warm as possible.

You curled up on the queen bed closest to the heater with your book, which you’d deemed necessity enough to bring on this escapade to another country.

When Logan finally emerged, he’d adorned a pair of flannel pants, and a gray t-shirt, which was admittedly a bit small for him. The fabric hugged his body a bit tighter than he was used to, but good lord almighty… this man looked stunning.

The dim light from the bathroom, mixed with the warm glow from your bedside lamp while you read, it made him look like he glistened. The stray water drops on his face and neck, and the quickly curling upwards strands of his damp hair. You never guessed that his hair just did that naturally. You found yourself staring a little too long, and as soon as Logan picked up on it, dropping the towel he used to dry his hair, he chanced a look in your direction. Quickly your eyes found the pages of your book again, and you kept a straight face, hoping nothing would be said about it.

“That a good book?” he smirked, knowing that you could barely even focus on it a second ago.

“Mhm,” you zoned in on the words, reading them over and over, but none of what they mean stuck in your head. You could only think about what you just saw, and what you still could see if only you turned your gaze.

“It looks old,” he commented on the bent pages and old fabric cover. It looked worn and well loved.

“It is old. I got it on the day it was released in nineteen fifty-three.”

He whistled lowly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You read it a lot?”

“Once a year,” you mumbled, still acting engrossed with the page you’d been stuck on since he entered the room. “It’s my favorite book.”

“What’s it about?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and looking at you tiredly. He was exhausted, wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just say goodnight and go to bed?

“The future… the way the author thinks our societies will begin to crumble,” you explained, turning towards him and letting the book fall on your chest, pages still open. “Books will be outlawed, and a group called the firemen will be required to burn any that are found.”

“Sounds interesting… also sounds a little miserable. Why’s it your favorite?” He grinned, throwing his sheets and blankets up and lying beneath them, keeping his head propped up on his hand so he wouldn’t fall asleep yet. The warm glow of your bedside lamp cast him in such a pretty glow…

“I think it feels very real to me, in a way…”

“You think books are gonna be outlawed?” He laughed slightly, clearly finding himself misunderstanding your meaning.

“No, but with the way things are playing out, it feels like a projection of what’s to come. Of course, they will make the enemies of the future out to be mutants, not books.”

“And these… firemen,” he put finger quotes around the word, trying to be hypothetical about the situation. “You think there will be groups like that?”

“Mutant hunters? Absolutely… They’re already out there, just look at what happened to us,” you sighed, the facts of the matter weighing you down, even though it had been a pleasant conversation. You enjoyed talking about your favorite book, but everyone in the mansion had already heard about it a thousand times. It was refreshing to get a new audience to share thoughts with.

“I never thought about it that way…” he furrowed his brow, his eyes drooping with every second passed. He had to be fighting sleep for his life.

“Mutants are supposed to be the future… but we’ll never see that future if we have to battle extinction.”

He didn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. You watched him carefully, his face looking deep in thought. You returned to your book by the time he finally spoke up again.

“You’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime,” he rolled over as he said it, so when you glanced over at him, his back was facing you. “G’night, Alice.”

“Night, Logan…”

In the morning, you woke up later than usual, no alarm clock or imminent threat looming to pull you from your slumber. It was nice, being able to wake up naturally for the first time in years. You felt so well rested that you nearly forgot where you were. The chill air of the morning surrounded you just outside of the thick blankets and sheets you were under, but it wasn’t unpleasant, it was refreshing.

When you opened your eyes, you began to recall everything slowly. Sitting up, you find that Logan isn’t in the bed across from you, or in the room at all. You furrow your brow and stand to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when a note catches your eye.

Placed on a tiny table by the janky minifridge, there’s a paper bag and a torn off napkin with some words scribbled on it.

Be back soon… got you something.

Inside the paper bag was a maple donut. It looked really good, too. Much better than the fifty-cent one you’d traded to him the night before.

You smiled and took a bite, eating while going about your morning routine, wanting to shower and get ready to leave the motel. You weren’t sure what Logan was up to, but with him being Canadian and all, you’re sure he’s just happy to be back.

He knocked on the door, the latch lock seeming to have been flipped over when he left.

You dropped your change of clothes back onto your bed, running over to the door and letting him in. He seemed to have a relaxed grin on his face, and looking at his clothing, there was a light sheen of icy water coating his leather jacket.

“C’mere,” he pulled you along, completely barefoot and still in your pajamas.

Once outside, you saw that the grounds were covered with just a small dusting of snow. It wasn’t thick, or freezing, but it was still falling around you, and you suddenly didn’t mind getting dragged away from the warm room.

“It’s snowing already?” You asked in confusion, as if he had the answer.

“It’s Canada, what did you expect?”

You just continued to enjoy the pretty sights around you, then realized your feet were still bare and you were likely going to make yourself sick if you didn’t go back inside.

“Let me go shower and we can check out,” you muttered, looking at him and finding he was just as captured by the beauty of a quickly approaching winter wonderland.

“I’ll make sure the bike is thawed out,” he joked, nodding to you.

After you went back inside, he walked around to the front to where the bike was parked in the covered area. It wasn’t too cold, but it would still need some time for the metal to heat up. He’d been able to start the motor not too long after, and pulled it around the side of the motel to be closer to where you had stayed.

He should have knocked before going inside, and he regrets not doing so, but upon opening the door to you half dressed, having yet to pull up your jeans, he seems to be frozen in place. You don’t notice him at first, and with the second glance he gets, he sees all the scars littered over your legs and hips. He remembers the first night when you’d put all the pieces together, knowing you’d met him before. You knew about his past, and he got a peek into yours. You'd told him a man named Stryker gave you those scars.

“Shit, Logan…” You trailed, yanking up your jeans faster and hopping your feet to speed up the process. When you noticed he’d just been standing there you panicked, and nearly fell down trying to get your pants up. “Don’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked himself out of it, furrowing his brow and dripping his eyes. He had to physically shake himself from the trance. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you stopped him, grabbing your things and packing them away, sliding your backpack on and walking past him. Your hair was still wet from your shower, but you didn’t want to stay inside and let the moment linger any longer. “Let’s get out of here, we still have a long way to drive.”

The hike through the fresh snow had been a little uncomfortable, mostly happening in silence. Since this morning, you’d barely spoken a word to him. You’d ridden miles and miles on the back of the bike without talking. Usually he was the silent type himself, but he’d felt bad for what happened, even after apologizing, so he decided it rested on his shoulders to break the quiet streak.

“I’ve been thinking… those scars,” he tried to broach the subject lightly, looking at you with a careful eye. “You’d said you were bulletproof, and fireproof. I had it in my head that you were impenetrable.”

“I am,” you gave him a flat stare, nodding your head a little.

“Then how were they able to cut you up?”

Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.

“Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.”

“Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

You kept on with your trek through the forest, the explanation rolling around in your head before you told him aloud.

“They’d been trying to take me apart for years, and all I’d do is rot in a cell… then they found a mutant called Lava, and she was the only person who could melt the adamantium they’d discovered. I guess they ran out of options with me… so,” you sighed, raising your eyebrows and trying to keep composure while talking about it. Opening up to him did little to help his own memory, but you did so anyway. Because he asked. “They coated a surgical set in adamantium to see what would happen… and it worked. They started taking parts of me wherever I could spare them.”

He had come to a slow stop, but you hadn’t noticed, continuing through the forest on your own, trying to make it to the edge of the lake before it got too dark. You at least wanted to pinpoint the location for tomorrow’s journey through the past.

You turned around to see him standing dead still, a look on his face the likes of which you couldn’t decipher… What was he thinking behind those pretty eyes?

“Logan, you okay?”

He blinked out of his thoughts. You wondered if maybe he was remembering something and you’d stopped him.

“Yeah, I just,” he shook his head and caught up with you, the solemn look not leaving his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You shrugged, keeping in stride with him, not falling behind or going ahead this time. The conversation helped ease the awkwardness that came before in the silence. “It’s alright. It was a while ago… besides, you were the one who saved me, you don’t need to be the one apologizing.”

The hike kept on in a much more comfortable silence. The sun would be going down soon, and you didn’t want to spend the night out in the woods, especially when it had been starting to snow today.

When you came across the small stream, leading to the edge of the lake, you picked up speed.

“Should be right up here,” you told him, leading the way through the mucky ground, moist with melted snow and mud.

You’d seen it before he did. You stopped in your tracks the second you looked across.

He caught up, taking a look for himself, but quickly growing concerned with howtense and unmoving you were. Your expression had changed from the relaxed one it had been wearing to a firm yet frightened stare. It was eerily quiet, and you couldn’t move your feet. Your hands balled into fists and one at a time, the memories of this place came rushing back. Just seeing the base, abandoned and covered in rust, was enough to make you want to cry. You felt all the loneliness, all the pain, and all the lost hope that used to plague you in this very place.

“You okay, kid?” Logan came closer, and you nodded, putting on a brave face and turning to him with a forced look of calmness.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you even managed a stiff smile, but you refused to turn back towards the base, letting your shoulder have the pleasure of the view instead. “It’s getting dark, though.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching as you were quickly back on the path you came from, trying to keep the composure that you weren’t sure would hold. “Alright.”

He trailed on after you, and just before the sun was all the way below the mountains, you’d managed to get back to the road. The bike was cold again, but thankfully it started without a problem.

He’d tried too hard to get to a comfortable place with you, but again he felt back at square one, sitting in awkward silence like he did this morning. Your hold on him wasn’t as tight as usual, and you didn’t seem to care how unsteady it was with every turn of the bike.

You rode down the street about ten miles or so before coming across a small fishing town, with restaurants, bars, neighborhood markets, and even a cozy little motel. Much better looking than the one you’d stayed in the night previous.

He’d been the one to get checked in tonight, getting everything settled and making sure you were comfortable. You still weren’t in a chatty mood, but you’d loosened up just enough to have civil conversation, and answer the questions he would ask you.

He let you take the first shower tonight, and you were out in only a few minutes, racing to get tucked into bed as quickly as possible.

He took his time, knowing you were probably just going through the motions of being here, and he needed to let you experience it at your own pace. After all, you remember this place, and he doesn’t. The only thing he recalls are the torturous nightmares that plague his sleep. That alone tells him all he needs to know about the horrors and chaos this place caused.

He’s surprised to find you still awake when he gets out of the shower, towel around his hips and water running over his body. He thought you’d be asleep, so out of habit he didn’t bring his clothes in with him to change.

He sees you’re reading your book, the one about the future. You’re so engrossed in it, your eyes never leaving the pages. He wonders if it’s a coping tool, a comfort item of sorts. He’d never thought of a book as a security blanket before, being written words on paper.

He didn’t say anything yet, unwilling to interrupt how calm you seemed to be now. Just grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom.

Maybe going back there tomorrow isn’t a good idea. He appreciates the openness of your heart to do such a favor for him, but he doesn't want to cause you distress for his own gain. You’ve shown him where it is. He knows how to find it on his own, now. If he can convince you to stay back here, he’ll go on his own, find the answers himself.

When he emerges the second time, you’ve laid your book down on the bedside table, placing a bookmark between the worn pages before settling yourself. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, and makes eye contact. You don’t break it first, but you remain silent. A man of few words, but he seemed to be the more chatty one today.

“I didn’t say anything before, but you seemed a little, uh… scared, earlier.”

You didn’t change the expression you wore, but somehow he could feel the shift in your emotions. He just wanted to ask and see if this was too much for you.

“I wasn’t scared, just remembered some stuff is all,” You sighed out, laying down and still looking over at him here and there, but not willing to speak more than what you’d said.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It was an open offer, but he already knew the answer. For someone who seemed so extroverted and talkative when he met you, you’d somehow turned into a reserved and silent little girl since this morning.

“No…” You trailed, the word coming out soft and gentle.

“Okay,” he nodded, getting comfortable before rolling over and calling out to you as you turned out the light. “Goodnight…”

“Night, Logan.”

In the morning, you were already awake, clinging to your knees as you focused very hard on looking out the window by your bed. When he looked at the clock and read six, he figured you must not have slept well. He barely slept most of the time. His regeneration made it easy to stay awake days at a time, and he only needed a few hours to function. Not to mention he was often plagued with nightmares. He hasn’t had them the past few nights, which he finds strange, but at the same time, he isn’t complaining whatsoever.

He swung his legs out of bed when he saw you were unmoving, just like yesterday at the lake.

“Hey,” he placed a hand at your shoulder, softly breaking you from your endless stare. “You doin’ alright?”

“Yeah, I just woke up a little early.”

Your little smile was forced, and he could tell, but didn’t say anything to negate your response. He just sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, looking outside the window where your gaze lingered. There was nothing specific to look at, just a view of the parking lot, and a few trees framed a small log cabin bar next door.

“I uh… I had an idea last night…” he trailed, gaining your attention as you turned to him. “What if we took a few days.”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you laid it on your curled up knees.

“I mean, what if we don’t go to the base right away?” he suggested with a shrug. It had been a good idea in his head, to straggle behind a few days, and make the journey through the past when you were more settled. “I could tell the way it got to you last night, after you saw it.”

“Logan, I’m fine. Promise,” you nodded your head as if to assure yourself, but even as you were doing it you knew it didn’t look convincing.

“You weren’t fine,” he corrected, unafraid to voice his concerns by now. “Look, you brought me here, and I’m really grateful… but you were uncomfortable to even look at that place, and I could see that.”

You huffed out a sigh, shaking your head and trying to seem like there was no reason for concern. You didn’t want him to back out after coming all this way just on your account. This was for him, not for you.

“I’ll be okay,” you put on a more stern face, grabbing his hand. The gesture was more for your own comfort rather than his, but even still, you meant what you said. “I’d spent a long time trying to forget that place, and last night everything just sort of came back… but as long as you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

He listened constantly, the warmth of your touch was always so energizing to him. It made him feel like he was somehow stronger and charged with determination. He figured it had something to do with your mutation, and his ability to survive it. Not just survive, but thrive on it.

“You saved me from Stryker, Logan,” you let your legs fall from their curled position, scooting just a bit closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hand still lingered around the skin of your own. “I feel safe when I’m with you.”

His chest tightened when he heard those words. He’d realized only now what the professor's words meant a few mornings ago. He recalls exactly how they were said, and why.

Don’t hurt her, Logan.

It wasn’t just about the ability to touch, which he would admit was definitely a struggle in itself when he’d thought about how long you’ve been alive, with no one to cling to. Aside from the skin to skin contact, you trusted him. You felt safe in his presence. Most of all, you were doing all of this for him without asking anything in return, and he figured you didn’t even care if you got anything out of it in the long run.

Charles didn’t want Logan to fall all over you in immediate love and commitment. He just wanted him to take care of you, attend to you and make sure you weren’t without comfort, especially in this terrible place you were headed.

Her pain will become your own.

It wasn’t about you becoming vengeful if you got hurt, and it wasn’t about your loved ones making him pay for his actions. He understood that now, too. It was about the guilt and shame he would feel for not having been there to help you should anything happen. Should this very situation happen. He won’t let you go it alone.

“C’mere,” he sat further back, raising his other arm and beckoning you to sit closer with him.

You didn’t even hesitate to climb under his wing so to speak, and lean against him as he’d gestured for you to do. He wrapped that arm around you, his head resting over top of your soft and slightly unruly morning hair. His other hand stayed in yours, unbudging for the time you sat there.

At one point you’d felt so calm you closed your eyes, just absorbing his energy and feeling the comfort from it. It was a rough and hard facade at first, but his energy held layers, and the more you relaxed into him, the better you could feel what lies beneath. You could feel his gentleness, and his soft spirit, willing him to go wherever the wind blows. You could feel the slight sadness and confusion that he seemed to internalize every day. Probably from lacking his past, the memories and the people he used to have before Stryker messed him up.

“I think taking a few days doesn’t sound so bad, you know?” You said quietly, just loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah?” he smiled, looking down at you when you nodded. Your expression was happier than it had been before, the traces of fear were gone from your eyes. “It’ll be fun. I’ll show you a good time, then maybe you can change your mind about Canada.”

“Unlikely,” you laughed softly, your own smile taking over as you met his eyes. “You’re not so bad, for a Canadian, though.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He’d stuck to his word.

He’d shown you a good time around the small town, though he claims he’s never been there before. All the small business families were very kind and embracing, although it got to a point where talking to them was becoming detrimental to the length of your trip. Everywhere you went into, whether it be a shop, a small town bakery, or even an entertainment hub, there were people recommending things to do and see. And of course, you were not one to say no to an Adventure.

On the back of the motorcycle, you’d gone practically all over the town, meeting people, and always being introduced the same way by Logan.

‘I’m Canadian, she’s not… She doesn’t like it here much, I wanna change her mind.’

You laughed almost every time at the way the people would react, but would nod gleefully when they made suggestions on activities. You found yourself liking Canada, but only because Logan was here. He was making you laugh, and smile wider than you think you ever have. Not even three days into this endeavor, and already you’ve decided you’re falling for him.

You don’t know how deeply he reciprocates those feelings, because he’s a flirt with nearly everyone… but the soft and gentle moments, like this morning, lead you to believe there’s something else there. Some part of him that is drawn to you like you are to him.

His lingering touch on the small of your back when he opens the door and guides you through, or the arm slung around your shoulder to steer you in a different direction when something interesting catches his eye. Even the way he nonchalantly fixes your hair when he’s talking to you and the wind blows it out of place. It’s all so casual in the way it happens, and yet, it means everything to someone like you. Someone who has lived for two centuries without the normalcy of touch and comfort from another person.

You try not to focus too much on what it means, and decide to live in the moment to enjoy each time those little touches happen.

By the end of the day, you think maybe he’s taking you back to the ‘Cozy Pine Tree Inn’ that you were rooming at… but instead he pulls into the parking lot across the sidewalk.

The half-working neon sign over the porch read ‘Jackalope Neighborhood Pub’ and when you looked inside, there must have been about ten people total, including the two bartenders behind the counter.

It wasn’t a huge place to begin with, and the population of the town was probably less than the amount of students you had each week, but it was cozy, and you appreciated the warmth of it all, even though it was brutally cold.

“Go on inside, I gotta put this under that covering in case it snows,” he encouraged, letting you hop off with a spring in your step.

The inside was just as you thought it would be. Cozy, warm, dimly lit. The walls were covered in old pictures and heads of various hunted animals from up in the mountains. Sitting down at the bar, you shed your jacket and let it hang on the back of your low-back stool, keeping your gloves on for safety.

“Hi there, pretty darlin,” a man came up beside you, a smile on his face and a drunken twinkle in his eye.

“Hi,” you smiled back kindly, nodding to him.

“Never seen you here before, I guess you’re new,” he came a bit closer, and even though he didn’t try anything yet, it made you nervous when people get this close. Your skin is covered, but it still makes you uneasy.

“I’m just visiting, actually… I live in New York.”

No, you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you felt the only way to keep him at bay would be to answer his curiosities as quickly as you could, not giving him room to think about anything else.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink? A pretty girl in a place like this needs a drink.”

“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m actually here with someone, he’ll be back in a second,” you spoke quicker when the man took another step beside you, leaning up against the bar now and reaching for your hand.

“Awe, c’mon… m’sure your buddy won’t mind,” he tried to grab at your forearm in a teasing manner, but you pulled your hands from the counter, pulling your sleeves down to cover the skin of your wrist that your gloves didn’t quite shield.

“Don’t touch me,” you rushed out, a panic beginning to pour over your words. “You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt, huh? You're gonna hurt me, pretty thing?”

“You don’t understand,” you breathed shallow, trying to keep calm to no avail. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby, I think you want me to stay right here,” he again got closer, trying to cage you in by bringing his arms on both sides of you and trapping your stool in front of him.

Simply trying to get out of the situation without causing a scene, you leaned forward against the bar, pushing at one arm to try and sneak out… but as it turns out, you didn’t even have to.

Logan pulled the man away by his neck, looking him face to face and giving a harsh but somehow unbothered stare. This man was of no real threat to him, clearly.

“Leave my girl alone…” he let out calmly, though it was filled with threat. You knew he’d only added the possession for effective purposes, but you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sound of it.

The man didn’t even speak another word, rushing off to the other side of the bar. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but Logan, standing at six foot two, with a strong build and a deep temperament was sure to scare anyone off.

Logan sat down at the bar next to you, ordering a beer for himself, and a whiskey for you. He owed you some payback Jack Daniel’s, if he remembers correctly.

“Thanks,” you threw him a smile and a nod, which he returned.

“Guy’s a creep,” he let out, his brows raised and an eager look on his face when the beer bottle was set in front of him. “Hope he didn’t ruin Canada for you.”

You laughed for what had to be the hundredth time today, shaking your head.

“Of course, not. The only thing that could ruin it is what we actually came here to do,” you joked, sipping on your drink as soon as it was put in front of you.

There was a beat of silence, before a thought that popped into Logan’s mind turned into a question.

“So, how long have you been at the school?”

You gave him a glance, tilting your head and trying to think of an answer that made sense.

“Well that depends, do you mean as it is today? Or when it first started?” You found yourself turning towards him more instead of facing the bar.

“Uh, all of it?”

He took another swig and chuckled at the strangeness of your insistence for elaboration. It was a long and complicated story, but you had to find a simple and short way to explain it.

“Charles found me by cerebro a long time ago, when I was in New York City studying for my history degree,” you took another drink, eyes watching the ice swirl around the bottom of the glass as you tipped it in different directions. “He snatched me up, and a bunch of other mutants, and we saved the world… Which I guess is a typical Tuesday now, but back then it was a big deal for us. The professor had opened the school, but I left right after some of the others did..”

“You left? Why?” His confusion stemmed from what he’s seen. That place was your home, and those people were your family. He doesn’t know why any mutant would want to leave the walls of that mansion, where it was safe.

You shrugged, a bit hesitant to even try and remember what the real reasoning was. “It was the sixties, everyone wanted their own path of freedom. That was the thing back then, wasn't it? Free love, free drugs, free spirits.”

He raised a brow, looking at you with a bit of surprise, which faded just as fast.

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” he smirked, huffing a small laugh and shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were barely an adult.”

You often thought about that. What you would have looked like if you’d been able to grow older. Would your face have thinned out from its girlish fullness? Would you have formed little crows feet at the corners of your eyes? Would you even resemble the same person you’ve looked in the mirror to see for all these years?

“If you want to be technical, I’m physically twenty.”

“Awe, just a baby,” he teased, giving you a slight elbow to the arm. “So is that part of your mutation, then?”

“No, actually,” you began, throwing back the rest of your drink before explaining further. “The way my body works is like anyone else’s… I have to have energy and sustenance to survive, all that nonsense…”

He’d been very interested to find out about you, since he’d yet to find anything out about himself. Especially since he’d figured your mutation was the reason for your long life span.

“But since I’m made up of different kinds of energy, matter, antimatter, and a third substance unknown to science yet, I can draw sustenance from things other than food and rest.”

“Like what?”

You took your little green glove off one hand, and reached for his forearm, which he was currently leaning on against the bar. You focused on doing what you’d done the night that Rogue had injured him, forcing energy into him instead of taking it.

“You feel that?”

His eyes got a bit wider, and he watched your hand, there was just the slightest bit of an iridescent glow around his skin where you touched him. It was vague and unnoticeable if you weren’t really looking, and he was. “Yeah…”

“It’s called energy transference. I absorb energy from everything around me, and I can use it to create things… shields, small detonations, and as I recently found out with you, the ability to restore energy from depletion,” you listed, trying to get to the point, but of course, he didn’t understand how it was all connected.

“And what, it keeps you from aging?” he asked, like it didn’t make any sense, and to be fair, you didn’t really lead with the cause, so you understood his confusion.

“Not really, no…” you thought back to the day it all happened, so many years ago and yet you’ll never forget it. “When I absorb energy, it sustains me… but when I turned twenty, I was struck by lightning.”

He let out a low whistle, thinking to himself that it was a wild turn of events in your background that he wasn’t expecting.

“The professor thinks it caused a power surge in my anatomy. Being able to absorb the strike instead of it killing me, my cells were able to store that energy and prevent me from aging.”

He understood now, blinking a few times as the process settled into his mind. He wonders what else your powers can do, but doesn’t want to keep pushing you on it.

“Huh,” he looked to the bar for a minute, eyes going over the spot on his arm that still held just the slightest glow of energy without being easily seen. “I don’t really age all that much either…”

“I heard,” you replied, giving him a once over. He was probably one of the most beautiful men you’d ever come across, and knowing that his aging process was also stunted was nearly a blessing in your eyes.

“I still do, just real slow,” he explained, running a hand through his hair, the kitty ears becoming more prominent when he did. “Guessing by how little I’ve changed in the last fifteen years, I might be close to your age. Maybe a little younger… I just don’t remember.”

His tone falls into a solemness in the end, and you frown at the change in his energy. He’d been having a good time until now, when he started to think about his past, but there was nothing to find. You again reached out for him, taking his hand like you’d grown accustomed to in the past few days. Touching him would never become dull, or feel any less important. You suspected that years from now you would still feel the same tingly and warm sensation from being able to meet his skin to yours.

“You will,” you promised. Even if it takes you a lifetime, you’ll help him find himself. His past, and who he was.

The next day was Sunday, and it went on like the day before… but one thing was different. Two things, technically.

One, Logan held your hand whenever there was a long distance of walking to be done. Two, his funny and somewhat playful introductions from the day before had been given a small twist. Instead of just saying, ‘I’m Canadian, she’s not,’ there was an added layer of possession. ‘I’m Canadian, my girl isn’t.’

After last night in the bar, something was different. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly made him switch up his actions around you, and towards you, but it wasn’t in your direct focus. You were much too busy enjoying the sudden change, and the casualness in which it was implemented.

You wondered if you should ask him about it, but every time you gained an opportunity to do so, you lost the courage. Maybe he was just doing it because it felt normal to be this way with a traveling companion? Maybe he was just putting up a front for the townspeople, so he didn’t have to try so hard to explain the situation between the two of you.

He’d been so gentle, so domesticated, it felt like he’d grown fully comfortable with you. You’d been the same with him, squeezing his hand whenever he grabbed yours.

His touch, his words, and more importantly, the look in his eyes whenever he caught you staring… It all led you to believe there was something lurking, just waiting to be let out.

When you’d returned to the motel that night, giggling about the state of his hair after a tree branch full of snow collapsed on him, he’d rolled his eyes, giving you a playful shove into your own bed while he mumbled about ‘rinsing the pine needles off’ of himself.

“I’m gonna go down to the Lobby, I wanna call Ororo,” you said, the wide smile still on your face.

He nodded, not even waiting for you to leave before he started stripping down his clothes. His jacket first, then his flannel. When he was left in the gray beater he wore beneath it all, he stopped for a moment, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk. He knew you’d been watching, and he was too big of a tease to tell you to look away, or to remove himself to the bathroom.

He turned back around, and pulled the thin fabric over his head, throwing it to his pile by the duffel bag.

He didn’t need to look at you again to know he would catch you staring. He just went about his business as if you weren’t there. Asshole.

You almost couldn’t breathe. The only person on this entire planet that can touch you, and you got lucky enough that it was Logan. This man was strongly built, and chiseled as if from marble stone. He wasn’t overly muscular or too big, but just enough that you swore God sent him down from the heavens to roam about the earth as his most glorious creation. The way his back muscles tensed when he reached into his bag for a change of clothes, or the way his abs contracted when he stood back upright, it made your hands fidget. You wanted to stand before him and do the one thing you couldn’t do to anyone else. You wanted to touch his gorgeous, warm toned skin.

When he was about to head to the bathroom, he finally gave you a glance, his smirk even stronger when he read your expression.

“You gonna go call her or not?”

“Right,” you blinked, standing up and rushing around to grab your jacket and gloves.

You’d rushed down to the lobby as fast as your feet could carry you, the stiff breeze doing nothing to quench your excitement. You loaded two quarters into the payphone in the lobby’s hallway, facing away from the stench of the crappy bathrooms nearby.

You tapped your leg nervously as you told the operator the correct information and waited for Storm to answer. It wasn’t too late, everyone should still be awake.

The dial went until the second to last before she picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded like music to your ears.

“Ro, it’s me,” you said as gently as you could, having to repress your energy. “I just wanted to check in…”

“Check in? Everything is normal here… what about you, have you found the base yet? How’s Logan?”

Her rushed questions came out when she realized who she was speaking to. She’d waited days for this call, and honestly, you weren’t one to disappoint.

“We’ve located it, yeah. We’re hiking out there tomorrow,” you explained, leaving out the part where you took a two day joyride through a small Canadian town with the man you’ve deemed is your favorite Canadian. “And Logan’s good. We’ve been having a great time so far.”

“A great time, huh? So I was right to be afraid that I’d never see you again…” she trailed, only partly joking. In truth, she wants you to be happy, but she also wants you to come home.

“Oh relax, we’ll be back before you know it.”

You heard a muffled yelling, like she’d covered the phone to reprimand some students, before she was back on the line.

“Well, tell me everything, what’s Canada like? Is it as bad as you remember?” She teased, figuring by the sound of your voice and the smile she could practically hear coming through the phone, that your opinion had been swayed.

“Canada itself is fine, but Logan is something else entirely,” you raised a brow, leaning into the phone panel on the wall and twisting the cord in your fingers like a love-struck schoolgirl. “Did you know he was Canadian?”

“I thought he might be, wasn't sure.”

“Well, I take back hating Canada, he’s actually made me like it…” you trailed, fighting yet another wide smile from only thoughts of today. “He’s made me like him… a lot.”

“Baby, it’s only been four days,” she laughed on the other end. You could tell she was debating knocking sense into you, or asking for details. The latter won in the end. “So did he kiss you, or what?”

“No, he hasn’t kissed me,” you said with a sigh, wishing the statement hadn’t been true. “But he’s been so… different. He holds my hand, he hugs me when I’m cold… he’s been introducing me to everyone we talk to as ‘his girl’.”

“So what I’m hearing is, I need to be making wedding preparations for when you get back?” She huffed out another laugh, hand on her hip as she leaned into a wall in the mansion. She knew this was going to happen. You got attached to people very easily, but Logan was an entirely different can of worms. He could touch you, he could hold you, and he could be with you in ways no one else would ever be able to. That made him your ideal attachment. If you believed in soulmates, you’d say he was yours. Uniquely created with a mutation that matched your own in the opposite form.

“See, you think that’s funny,” you laughed along with her through the phone, titling your head and speaking with confidence. “But I’m absolutely gonna marry him someday.”

She rolled her eyes, and you could almost hear it through the phone. “As crazy as you sound, I believe you… but give it more than four days to be sure, yeah?”

“Fine… I’ll give it till the end of the trip,” you taunted. You knew it was crazy to be making these bets now, but you were just so certain that this man would be your endgame. He was the only one who could be… right?

“That’s all I can ask for from you… Just be safe, and tell him I said hi, okay?” She quickly tried to get off the phone, and you could hear the rowdy children making a ruckus in the background of where she was.

“I will… tell everyone there that I miss them, and I’ll be back soon.”

“Will do, bye baby…” she rushed out her goodbye before the line went dead.

You smiled, mumbling a small ‘bye’ under your breath as you hung up the phone and headed back for the room.

The room was a bit steamy when you first walked in, with the bathroom door having been left open to air out. Logan was reclined in the bed furthest to the wall, nothing but flannel bottoms on while he was kicked back and relaxed. He had one arm behind his head, and his other perched at his side to hold up a book in his hand. Your book… the one you’d finished last night.

“Hey,” he smiled at you as you walked through the door. “Sorry I didn’t ask, it looks interesting.”

You furrowed your brow with your own surprised smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay… I think you’ll like it.”

“So far I do… I promise I’ll be careful with it, I know it’s old,” he defended yet again, even though you would give him that precious copy if it made him happy.

“It’s fine, what’s mine is yours,” you kept on, laying your coat on the back of a chair for the night. “Besides, you can’t do anymore damage to it that I haven’t already done.”

“I noticed you dogear the pages…” he raised a brow in your direction, as if accusing you of something.

“I know, it’s terrible…” you trailed, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him for a moment. He went back to the book, completely engrossed in what was probably still the first chapter. “What part are you on?”

“Burn ‘em to ashes, then burn the ashes,” he remarked, and you nodded. He seemed to be pretty hooked on only the first few pages. “You were right, y’know? About comparin’ this kinda future to ours. It’s nasty stuff…”

“It only gets worse, keep reading.”

You got up, grabbing your clothes and heading for a shower. He had been considerate enough to save plenty of hot water for you.

The weekend was over, and unfortunately it was time to go where this entire journey was meant to lead. Stryker’s base.

The ride to the bridge was silent, but the second you arrived, Logan turned to you with a look of sincerity.

“Look, I know that you’re doing this for me,” he began, bringing a hand to your arm in the most gentle way possible. “But if you start feelin’ like you did the other day… I have no problem going in on my own, alright?”

“I’ll be okay, Logan. You’re here with me,” you reminded him, placing your hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go…”

He nodded, letting you take the lead, because as was made clear before the trip even began, you were the one who remembered this place, and he was the one trying to regain those memories.

“When did you come here?” He asked, and it was an innocent question except for the implications.

“I didn't come here, I was taken. I'd just passed the bar exam back in New York, and I was gonna be a lawyer for a while, but Stryker got to me first,” You explained, not taking offense to his wording. You’d known he was a little brash with the things he said, but he could also be gentle and sweet.

“How long were you here?” His voice softened this time.

“About six years, got here near the start of the program, lived to the end of it.”

“And what about me?” He’d begun walking side by wide with you, not straggling behind like before. His curiosity wasn’t the only reason for his questioning, but it was a factor. He mostly just wanted to keep you distracted from looming amongst your own thoughts in silence, getting closer and closer to the base.

“You came towards the end, but he was planning to have you for years. That mutant I told you about, the one who melted the adamantium? They had her powering the machine long before you even came to the island.”

Your explanation caught him off guard a bit. When he’d asked if you came here, you said you were taken, but now you told him he had come… meaning he made the decision to do it.

“And I… came willingly?” He titled his head with furrowed brows, unsure why anyone would want to come to this place, if it was as bad as you say.

“From what I understand, you did at first. I think you ran away when you knew of Stryker's plans,” You reasoned, not completely remembering everything. Not that you were even apart of those dealings in the first place.

“Did I meet you then?”

You smiled and shook your head. You’d wished you’d been able to catch a glimpse of him the first time, what he’d been like before Stryker tortured him and turned him into a piece of metal.

“No, I never met you the first time. But I could feel you,” you tried your best to describe, nearly failing for how little you could actually say instead of showing him.

He seemed to understand it enough, remembering the way your powers work. He came to a halt beside you, giving you a look and asking the next question. “How did I feel?”

You stopped, too. You looked at his eyes now, and they seemed so full of something you couldn’t explain, but couldn’t look away from, either.

“Sad… Angry.”

“And now?” He asked, a serene expression on his features when he was looking at you.

“You’re still tense, but your emotions are softer, calmer.” You raised a hand to his face, trailing slightly over the facial hair that had slightly grown out the last few days. It suited him, you thought.

After a few moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine from the cold, and snapped out of your daze, continuing on the path ahead, and leading him through an old abandoned tunnel. This tunnel was not full of bad memories, but a rather fond one. The day you had escaped, you followed Scott through this tunnel to meet the Professor on the other side.

He seemed to be taking everything in, noting every intricate detail of the place to try and place it. Nothing sprung from the back of his mind, so he doesn’t know if anything significant enough happened here that he might have a cognitive reset, but he keeps trying, going through each stretch of the base like something might pop up.

You froze still when you got to the edge of the cell block. The cages were just as he’d left them, completely and utterly destroyed by his claws.

“This is it, huh?” He stood still, too. The weight of the area was easy to feel, and though he didn’t know why, he could almost sense the years of heaviness that was caused here. It was haunting.

“This is it,” you huffed, taking a step forward and treating it like you would any other place you visited. It’s just bricks and concrete and steel, it’s not like it should affect you this way. “The cell on the end is mine, the one three or four down was Scott’s.”

There were motion sensors everywhere. Long since forgotten about, and none were activated, but he could also see the security measures, and some of the poking and prodigy tools they must have used just scattered about. The leftover scenery of a hasty escape, by both the mutants and the inhabitants of this place.

“How did you even survive this?” He asked, the weight settling in on his shoulders even more, pushing him into the floor.

“Most of us didn't. This entire block had new mutants every year. All except me,” you sighed out, running your fingers over the enclosure that you’d been contained in for so long. It was in the past now, and you stood beside the very testament to your escape. The man who freed you and had given you hope. Nothing bad could happen to you here as long as he was with you, now.

“Because you can't die...” He trailed, a single finger of his looming over the exposed skin of your neck. With him being so close, this little action almost seemed normal, but the cold weather made his hands cold, too, and the feeling of it caused a shiver. You stepped away with a shudder under your breath, but turned around and got close enough again to keep the energy from feeling awkward. No matter how cold his hands were, you still liked when he touched you.

“I wanted to. This was the worst part of my life. I never wanted to come back here.”

“Then why did you?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell block and leaning in. He knew the answer, or at least he thought he did. Charles made him clearly aware, not that he didn’t know already.

“I wanna help you,” you looked down, too scared to meet his eyes and say something else besides what you wanted him to hear. “You saved me from this place, the least I can do is help you remember it.”

He nodded, thinking that maybe he was pushing too hard. Maybe he just needed to focus on himself… but something about this place, it made him feel that strange connection to you again. The one that he didn’t think he felt back at X-Manor.

He took a few steps towards the frozen doors at the end of the block, likely leading into other parts of the base that were inaccessible.

“How did it happen?” He turned back, wielding a small smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your brows, unsure of what exactly he meant.

“The rescue, how did it happen? Was I heroic?” He posed jokingly, hands on his hips to draw out a laugh from you, and it worked. Even in this place you were scared of, he could make you feel joy.

“Yeah, you were…” you closed the distance between you, pushing him into position by the doors to reenact the scene. “It was pretty late at night, the sirens started going off, we all started panicking, we thought we were getting attacked or something. Most of us were weak, and could barely stand. My legs were likely broken and definitely cut apart from the tests they'd been doing… We thought it was the end. And then you came charging down the cellblock with this woman,” you sat back into your cell, feeling no semblance of fear from it now. He ran down to your cell with a cheesy grin, playing along for your amusement. “You both started to set everyone free. But you were the one who tore open my cage, and without thinking, I let you help me up…” you trailed, watching as per your story, he reached in and helped you to your feet just like he had done all those years ago. “That was the first time I touched you.”

You kept your hand in his, the tingling sensation still remaining, even though you’ve probably touched him a hundred times by now.

“Wow… that uh… doesn’t sound like me…” he looked away from you, his hand pulling back and hanging it at his side. He’d broken the charade to think about how inaccurate this all sounded. Even though you were not a liar, and he could take your word for it, he just couldn’t seem to think of himself how you did. “Guess it's just a lot to take in..”

You’d painted him in such a heroic light, he wasn’t sure that heroic was a word that fit him very well, much less at all. All he knew of himself was a selfish loner, who occasionally did the right thing out of obligation and not duty.

“It is… take your time,” you tried your best to reel in the happiness you’d felt, because even though being here with him made you feel better… he was trying to remember himself, and maybe this wasn’t helping.

“And the woman I was with, did you know her?”

You hoped he wouldn’t ask about her, you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I don't remember. She looked familiar, but I couldn't tell you who she was,” you think you saw her with Stryker a few times, but never by his side, always behind him, following orders. “She died not long after the breakout, the professor found her after he’d come back for the remaining survivors...”

He seemed deep in thought, facing the doors of the cellblock again and clenching his fists… was he remembering something?

“And I was with her, this woman?” the way he said it implied the depth of what he was really asking.

“From what I gathered at the time, yeah… but I wasn't in the best condition, so I could have just made it all up in my head. I definitely remember you, though.”

At this he turned back to face you, coming closer and lifting his lips in the very corners to resemble a not quite smile. It still turned your stomach in the best way.

“I'm just unforgettable, huh?”

“Completely unforgettable. This is a part of my life that I have worked hard and trained myself to forget, but I remembered you instantly…” you confessed, not daring to look away from him now, when he was so clearly latched onto you. It didn’t matter what you said at this point, you were sure he must have known something of your feelings by now.

“Because I could touch you.”

You shook your head. “It was more than that. I'd never seen anything like you before.”

“Is that a good thing?” He teased, his full smile finally returning once the air felt lighter again.

You thought about that day. He’d come running through like a true action hero, saving everyone in his path. He had been here for something else entirely, you think, but he stopped to save you and the others. He’d been wearing a white beater that night, his shoulders glistening with sweat while his hair bounced with every step he took. It was longer then. The determined look in his eyes was something you also noticed, and the way they softened when he steadied you to your feet, touching your skin as no one had for over two hundred years. Yes, seeing him was a very good thing.

“Oh yeah, trust me.”

Having searched for other abandoned entry points of the base, and being unsuccessful, you opted to leave, but it had grown dark out, and there was no way you could hike all the way back to the motorcycle before the cold winds set in. It was too dark to even navigate the grounds, anyways.

It was decided that you could set up a makeshift camp within the escape tunnel, as it was just slightly warmer than the outside.

Logan didn’t talk much after leaving the base. He’d been all fun and games until he realized you both had finally made it to the place with the answers, but there were none. He didn’t take his frustrations out on you, but he didn’t exactly ignore them, either. In fact, he took to ignoring you instead. You tried striking up a conversation with him, and found he was in too sour a mood, and every comment you made about little things, like the sleeping bag in your backpack, or the water flask kept in his, he seemed to just grunt out a response to get back to the quiet.

It wasn’t until the dead cold of the night that you’d been shivering your ass off, that you even dared to speak to him again.

“This storm's getting worse… I'm gonna freeze to death.”

He rolled over from his sleeping bag on the ground, a slanted brow on his face and a huff when he saw that you were truly cold. He was not in a good mood, and he didn’t want to deal with more bad situations.

“I thought you couldn’t die…” he grumbled, leaning up on one arm. You were curled up into a ball, all your layers on your body and the sleeping bag, but the snow was falling hard and fast outside, probably sealing you both into this icy tunnel.

“I can't be killed. I can still technically die,” you explained, furthering the lore on your powers. He mentally added it to the list. Almost immortal, but not really so much in snowstorms.

“Then why are you still alive?” He mumbled sarcastically, trying not to be an asshole to the only person he was dependent on the past few days.

“Because I'm careful.”

You sat up, and in the dim light he could see how pale you’d gotten, your lips a shade of cold purple instead of the soft pink they normally held.

“Aren't you made of energy? Just warm yourself up…” He suggested, as if you hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t even in your ability wheel.

“I'm made of matter and antimatter, I don't radiate heat,” you argued, trying to maintain a sense of calm while being cold enough to power a refrigerator.

“Fine, you know what? I'm not walking you back to the bike, just get over here,” he let out, holding open the sleeping bag for you to scoot into. You’d done so as quickly as possible, letting him drop his arm back over you in an instant. Already you could feel the fiery feeling he gave off into the air.

“How are you so warm?”

“I don't know,” he shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep. He wanted to be up with the sun tomorrow, so he could get back to the motel and get some quality rest.

“You don’t know why you feel like a toaster?” You joked with a sweet smile, but were quickly reminded he wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Sorry.”

In truth, he did feel bad about treating you like that. You’d done so much for him, and all he’d done was snap at you when he realized the answers he was looking for were still locked up. He pulled you tighter in his arms, holding you close as if uttering a physical apology. I’m sorry for being a dick, but thank you for being so kind to me anyways.

Having found warmth in you, and another feeling that cannot be described outside of perhaps the simple word: safety, Logan slept better than he had in weeks, months, even. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’s ever slept like this, waking up naturally, well rested and without a nightmare in sight.

It was late in the afternoon, and he woke up feeling a sense of peace that he didn’t go to bed with. He’d been settled. His anger and annoyance about the failed objective made his skin crawl when the snow had been pouring down, the storm covering the ground with several inches of a white, fluffy covering.

Knowing it had been very late in the night when you finally were able to sleep, he didn’t want to wake you, but being wrapped around you like a cocoon while you slept would make it very hard to even sit up without causing you to stir.

He figured he could wake you up, now, take you back to the motel so you could finish resting while he took a walk, or visited the bar. It had approached his mind the night before, that he would probably go and get wasted at the establishment to try and fill the void that had been left empty by the lack of answers.

Slowly, he unraveled the twisted limbs and sleeping bags, hearing your soft grumbling of discomfort when you came to. You weren’t fully awake, and your arms grabbed at him, trying to pull him back in subconsciously while your moaning and groaning persisted. He let out a small chuckle at the actions, like that of a child grabbing for the security of its mother.

“Rise and shine, princess,” He joked, trying to maneuver himself away.

You finally remembered where you were, and realized that Logan was the source of warmth that had been keeping you so still and secure.

“Hey,” you let out with a furrowed brow, wiping over your eyes to try and dull the ache of opening them too soon. “What time is it?”

“Not sure, it might be noon,” he guessed, standing on his feet and beginning to collect everything that was still scattered about on the ground of the tunnel.

You were silent for a minute, nodding your head and beginning to become more coherent with every minute passed. You soon joined him on collecting things that needed packing away, but did so with a sentiment passed along.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything here,” you murmured quietly.

He almost had to do a double take… Why were you apologizing? You’d done him a great service by coming here to try and help him, no matter the results.

“S’not your fault,” he furrowed his brow in response. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit last night. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. If I was in your place I’d be angry, too.”

The way you looked at him was astonishing. Like he’d hung every star in the sky. You looked at him and he felt like no matter the atrocities he knows he’s capable of, and the memories he can’t reach, he could do no wrong. Nothing he ever did was bad in your eyes. It was an empowering feeling, but also a curious one. You are far greater of a person than he is, and he knows it… so why do you look at him like this?

The answer is simple, you’re in love with him. He’s the first person you can touch, which is a huge factor, but aside from that, he is kind to you, and genuinely, not just because he has to be.

He remembers what Charles told him before he left. Ask her about a man named Charlie…

“I uh…” he trailed, watching you where you sat, packing away your water flask and flashlight. “I had a talk with the professor before we left a few days ago.”

“About what?”

“About you, mostly. He told me I was in safe hands,” among other things, but he wouldn’t mention that. “And he told me that when you were ready I could ask you about a man…”

“A man?” You raised your brows in surprise. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were supposed to tell him.

“Yeah, a man… his name was Charlie?”

He could see it, the instant the name left his lips. Your face fell and your brain had to work overtime to try and return it to something neutral, and less traumatized. Your silence made him think that maybe he crossed a line. If you hadn’t been ready to talk about this man, then he’d just made a huge mistake. He doesn’t know who this fellow is, but he clearly did something to you.

“Are you alright?” Logan knelt down, interrupting your blank stare. He could see the memories flashing behind your eyes, the thoughts winding up in your head.

“Yes,” you shook out of it, but your smile didn’t come back. “I’ve been around people that know about him for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever have to retell the story.”

“You don’t have to,” he shook his head, a hand raising to your arm to try and bring comfort. “I assume it’s a sad story?”

“The worst one I know…” you trailed, finally giving a small quirk of your lip in a smile. Looking at Logan for too long made it impossible to scowl forever. “It’s been a hundred and thirty some years just about.”

He whistled long and low, sitting down across from you to fully pay attention.

“I started working in a farm house in Virginia in the Eighteen Sixties. I kept to myself as best I could, making beds, doing laundry, washing dishes. Best paying job I’d ever had so I stayed as long as I could…” you trailed, taking a deep breath to introduce the main character of this story. “There was a stable boy there, worked the farm for the family for years before he got promoted to caring for the horses. I hadn’t met him until about two months of being there.”

“He’s Charlie?” Logan lifted a brow inquisitively, fully engrossed in the history you were sharing. You nodded your head to confirm.

“He’s Charlie. He was only nineteen years old… he was the only person that I’d barely ever talked to that grew fond of me. I didn’t even have to do anything,” you joked, dipping your head and remembering the way it all went back then. “He used to volunteer to help me hang laundry just so we could talk.”

“Classy guy,” Logan teased, watching your face light up with the way you were recalling everything.

“He was, and so gentlemanly… The day he found out about me being what I am, it was a complete accident. Long story short, I killed a chicken. He took the blame for it, and at the end of the day, the family ate it for dinner.”

“He knew about you?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, another smile spreading. “He didn’t care. He’d never touched me before, and knowing that he never could… he still didn’t care.”

You sighed, the bliss of the memory fading from view when the next part resurfaced.

“I fell in love with him, and eventually he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes,” you paused for a moment, heaving a sigh as tears backed your eyes. “The day we left for town to get married, there was an accident… Some drunk men with a gun were messing around like assholes, and one thing led to another. They started firing off rounds in our direction, and I knew I could block the bullets, but I hadn’t told Charlie that. He tried to save me, tried to pull me out of the way…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence, but Logan already knew.

“You touched him…” he filled in the blank, watching you blink away the tears that started to fall. Your silent and weak nod was heartbreaking, and in under two seconds flat, Logan had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him to feel comforted. He was the only one who could do this, and after hearing your story of a lost love, he knew how much it meant.

He is grateful to you and owes you a lot. Being your shoulder to cry on is the least he can do in a situation like this, where you seemed like you just needed someone to hold onto.

“It’s been a long time,” you mumbled, sniffing to try and block more tears from falling. Being in Logan’s embrace made it better. “I thought he was the love of my life… but I’ve lived so much of my life now without him.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran a hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“I just wish he'd been something like you…”

“Something like me?” He asked, unsure of what you could mean. The way you described him, he seemed perfect. A gentleman, a protector, someone who loved you so much that he was willing to go through life without the most basic of relationship necessities. He didn’t feel like he could compare.

“Immune to my mutation.”

Your clarification made him understand, and maybe he shouldn’t have uttered his next words, but he did, fully knowing the answer.

“I’m guessing no one else has been,” he let out, beginning to loosen his hold on you.

You’d backed away and looked him in the eyes with your teary, puffy red ones.

“So far, only you.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds lonely.” His embrace didn’t leave, but he dropped your gaze for a moment to try and think about what that must be like. To not only be without that kind of comfort, but to constantly have to avoid it at all costs.

“S’not so bad anymore. You’re pretty decent company, and you don’t seem to hate being around me... I’d say I lucked out.” You leaned back into his arms, laying your head on his shoulder this time as you took a deep inhale. The scent of him was intoxicating, and the way he was constantly warm felt like an invitation in itself.

He didn’t move you, or make you go anywhere. He knew that if he’d been stuck here for days that it would have to be endured for your sake. After hearing of the tragedy in your past, he felt you deserved to sit here in silence, safely and securely wrapped in his strong arms.

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel l @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing @fries11 @burkayyy @d3ad2you @insanesosciopath @scream4mami @marifilue

#logan howlett #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x mutant reader #logan howlett x oc #wolverine fanfiction #x men wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan wolverine

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loosethreadsofyoursoul · 10 months ago

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while i will always love and appreciate the bisexual dean winchester agenda, i truly believe that if he was raised differently—or maybe if he grew up today instead—that boy would have been gay. like his love for women in a romantic/sexual context was always such a caricature and was continuously used as a symbol of masculinity that played against the roles assigned to him by his father growing up for the sake of suppressing any queerness he might exhibit. now whether that suppression was purposely written into his character or was a reaction to the character they had created, i’m not sure, but it’s there regardless.

i don’t mean to dismiss the love he felt for cassie or lisa, but particularly with lisa, i’m not sure he was ever in love with her, despite the fact that he did care for both her and ben. i get so frustrated watching the end of s5 because him going to her house and his perfect “apple pie life” being with her in suburbia genuinely came out of nowhere and i’ve never understood a) why it had to happen, and b) why it had to be lisa. but thinking about it in this sense, she was the closest thing he had in his life to everything he was raised to believe he should want by one john winchester, who lost his perfect wife, perfect family, perfect apple pie life and sent all of them down this path in the first place. so of course to dean, his happy ending would be with someone like lisa. but that’s the important part. someone like lisa, not lisa herself. he may have had love for her and he may have been able to picture a life with her, but it wasn’t necessarily because she was everything he wanted; she was a symbol of the things that tore his family apart and so to be with her felt like he was finally able to put some of it back together. and that makes me so sad for him because all of that is a result of the sense of responsibility ingrained in him growing up by john, not something he wanted for himself.

but back to his general attitude towards women, there was an excellent post that said he only acts like the typical womanizer he has a reputation for being around women deemed “stereotypical” by the misogynistic perspective. otherwise, he tends to take on a fairly brotherly role; he doesn’t tend to pursue any women he can “take seriously,” and is more intimidated or impressed by them than anything else. with the exception of cassie (which was pre-series and we never got full context for in the first place), he only ever pursued women with whom he would have a definitive ending—by that i mean women who he knows he’ll never see again or who would have a clearly defined role during the time they’re together that wouldn’t threaten the status quo. and yes these could also be the traits of a commitment-phobe or someone chronically on the move, but for one, sam doesn’t tend to do the same thing (see ruby, amelia, and eileen), and for two, given the things i mentioned already, it makes me consider it more of a result of him not actually being interested in women romantically.

his reaction to women when not purposely used as the butt of a joke or to perpetuate the “womanizer dean winchester” agenda is often so innately fraternal, caring in a way that doesn’t have any expectations behind it. and when there is a romantic context, so much of the relationship can be attributed to the way john raised him and the beliefs he has as a direct result; it’s never simply been built on the foundation of love.

every time he is dismissed as this macho het guy, it also dismisses so much of what makes him a wonderful character, and yes a lot of that is his queerness. so in a world where he didn’t grow up with roles and responsibilities that shaped him into someone he knew his dad hated and forced him to create this character for himself in order to survive? i think he would have been gay and he would have been okay with that.

#his reaction to men however? look no further than that gifset ‘dean + looking at men’#and then there’s cas and their multiple divorce arcs and widower arcs #he is not normal about that angel #gay dean my beloved #he was experiencing comphet!! he’s just like me fr #he falls under the category of #men who get labeled as bi bc of their ‘canon’ relationships but free of the narrative would be gay #i’m talking troy barnes. atyd sirius black. bucky barnes. sherlock holmes. etcetc #i am also a queer!sam truther i was just using his relationships to make a point #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #gay dean winchester #destiel #john winchester can choke challenge #em saying things

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taevescence · 3 months ago

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Poème | Kim Taehyung

Summary: For centuries, Taehyung has roamed the world, trapped in an eternity he never truly desired. Desperation led him to accept an offer of immortality, a gift that quickly turned into his greatest curse. Once a hopeful young man dreaming of a future with the love of his life, he now wanders through time burdened by regret, forever mourning the one he lost. No amount of power, beauty, or wealth can fill the void left by you. If eternity means living without you, then what is the point of living at all? Author’s note: Hi again! I hope everyone is well ^^ I know I had said I was going to focus on GAS? but…. Tae vampire came to my head and demanded to stay until I managed to bring him to this world :) Soooo, I don't know if most of you read this but I seriously, seriously need your help for this, I really don't know how to move it forward :(( so please, if you have any ideas on how to move it forward or any scenes you'd like there to be, send me an ask or a dm, I'd really appreciate it <3 Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human!Reader (female) AUs: Vampire!AU Word count: 4.6k Status: Unedited Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthougths Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop and @strangergraphics

What would you do if you were given the option to live for all eternity? If someone offered you the secret behind immortality and eternal youth, would you accept? Would you be capable of leaving everything behind just to avoid facing death?

Taehyung wished with all his heart that he had asked himself those questions before saying yes to the beautiful woman in the elegant dress who offered him a second chance at life—one without sickness or poverty, a life filled with luxuries and privileges he could never have had as a mere villager in the Victorian era. Something he could have never even dreamed of when he was still human.

When desperation consumes you and you don’t know what else to do to avoid falling into the clutches of death, you… accept the first offer placed in front of you, no matter how risky it may be. That was exactly what led Taehyung to an eternity of regret, suffering, and torment.

He had been blessed with eternal life, but what was the point of living until the end of time if he was alone? What was the use of existing for centuries, watching people be born and die as if they were nothing more than tiny toy soldiers with an expiration date set by a child who had decided it was time to discard them, believing he was too grown up to play with them anymore?

He refused to live an endless life if you weren’t in it.

But you had been gone for so, so long, and he could never forgive himself for it. He could never turn back time and reject the offer from the one who was now his creator. He would never see your smile again, hear your laughter, or smell the soft scent of flowers, of the forest, of you. If only he hadn’t left home that night, if only he had waited a few more minutes… If only you had gone with him, perhaps… Perhaps now, the two of you would be living a long life together, enjoying each other’s company until the end of time.

But that wasn’t how things happened. He left his home that night. He didn’t wait. You didn’t go with him. And now, his fate was sealed. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t be harmed, he would have eternal youth and an ethereal beauty that could make any human give him anything he asked for with just one look. He could have everything—everything except you. And that, without a doubt, was the greatest torture anyone had ever inflicted on him.

That had happened over 170 years ago, and he had spent each one of those years tormenting himself. When he was still human, he had been vibrant and full of life, a social butterfly who, even without the seductive abilities of a vampire, could charm anyone with a single smile. Now, he was nothing but the empty shell of the man he once was.

During that time, he met many like him—those with whom he managed to form something close to what he could call a "family." Jiah was his mentor, the woman who had turned him and helped him through the difficult transition from human to vampire. Chaeyoung was the second oldest, a cheerful and optimistic young woman who had been a vampire for over a thousand years. Sooah and Hoseok came next, both turned in the 15th century. Then there was him, Jiwon, and Jimin—the three of them transformed in the 19th century, all saved from the brink of death by the compassionate leader of their small group.

They had been his family until now, and though he loved them as much as he was still capable of love, his love for them would never amount to even a fraction of what he felt for you. Not even a hundred people could mend the wound in his heart, no matter how hard they tried.

He could still remember his life by your side, when his body was still warm and his heart beat in a rhythmic melody, reminding him that he was alive. The two of you met because of Taehyung’s father’s work—you were a young lady from a wealthy family, and he was the son of a tailor who barely had enough money or resources to live. Yet, you noticed him—his smile, his playful jokes, and his flirtatious charm, reserved only for you.

You weren’t supposed to be together—you both knew that. But neither of you wanted to give up, you didn’t want to lose the only real thing in your lives. So, you ran away. With no money, no place to stay, only the hope of finding a place in the world where you could live without regrets or judgment.

It was his selfishness and foolishness as a teenager that led you both to that situation.

He should have realized it was madness, that there was no way you could survive in the outside world with dreams and hopes coated in sugar and honey. This was the real world—it was cruel and ruthless, showing no mercy to anyone, no matter their age or gender.

The first few months on your own were peaceful. You traveled from town to town on horseback, living freely, loving each other with all your hearts, talking about your dreams for the future, and how exciting it would be to have a family together.

You had managed to stabilize your life—Taehyung making elegant garments for high-society ladies, and you painting beautiful portraits under a pseudonym, which he promoted and sold with his natural charm.

For the first two years, life had been peaceful. Until smallpox arrived. That was when everything fell apart. No matter where you went, how much money you had, or which doctor you saw, once you were infected, there was no escape.

You both caught it at the same time. He did everything he could to keep you both from falling into death’s hands, but it was a fatal disease—there was no cure, especially with their limited resources.

It was on a dark winter night that everything changed. You were starving, and Taehyung was determined to find something—anything—to feed you. Despite his weakened, trembling body, he walked through the dark streets of the coastal city until he reached a shop. But his body was on the verge of collapse, and he fell just a few meters away from home.

He clung to the last bit of strength he had, trying to crawl back to you if necessary—anything to avoid dying far from you. He didn’t want you to think he had abandoned you, didn’t want to make you suffer when you found out he had died in the cold, damp streets, all for the sake of bringing you something to eat. He didn’t want to die without you by his side.

That desperation was what made him accept so quickly the offer placed before him by a complete stranger. “Just one drop, and you will never feel pain again.” And he accepted. He drank whatever she gave him, clinging to the hope of surviving a few more minutes. Then, everything went black for a moment—until he opened his eyes again.

Everything felt new, as if he had been reborn and was rediscovering the world. He felt good, healthy, strong, and maybe a little thirsty—but alive. And that was all that mattered.

When the initial shock passed, he begged the woman to do the same for you, to save you just as she had saved him. She smiled kindly and let him lead her to your small home.

But she stopped before entering, giving him a look of pity and compassion. At that moment, he didn’t know that he could hear a human’s heartbeat from a distance. He didn’t know that, even before stepping inside, she already knew that you were no longer in this world, and nothing could change that—not even her blood.

Taehyung may not have died that night, but his heart… His heart shattered into a thousand pieces the moment he laid eyes on your pale, lifeless body. His body had survived death—but his soul never would.

For a long time, his life had become a series of meaningless events that only served to make his desire to die grow stronger. He knew it was foolish to feel this way when he had what many would kill for; his eternal life was a miracle that tormented him every damn day, and he knew that would never change.

It took him 138 years to get over you—if that was even the right word to use in this context. Perhaps a more accurate way to put it would be, well, trying to forget you through other people. 138 years of solitude, where his only company was six other vampires just as reserved as he was, each keeping the scars of their previous lives a secret, each too afraid to open up to the others and relive memories of a past they all wished to forget.

The first time he tried something with a girl was because of Jimin, who insisted that he should look at someone else besides your portraits—the ones he himself had painted back when he had wanted to immerse himself in your world. He went to a stupid bar, too loud and filled with drunk and high people looking for something casual. But he didn’t want something casual. He wanted something lasting. He wanted you.

Hours passed before a rather beautiful girl approached him. Her shy smile and flushed cheeks seemed endearing, but nothing inside him stirred the way it had when he first met you; her eyes weren’t like yours, her essence wasn’t like yours. He didn’t like her, but still, he forced himself to try.

That night was the first and last time he attempted to move on with someone else. There was only a kiss, a brief brush of lips that the girl gave him as a thank-you for walking her home. That night, he cried like he hadn’t in years, clawed at his lips with his nails until they bled, and his screams were so agonizing that everyone in the house had to check if he was okay, because it sounded as if someone had just run a blade of iron straight through his body.

Taehyung felt that kiss exactly like that—like someone had just plunged an iron sword into his heart and desecrated his body in every possible way.

Sooah called him dramatic. Jiwon even mocked him for making such a fuss over a simple kiss. But it was Jiah who ordered them to be quiet and stayed by his side all night, comforting him as his tears fell ceaselessly down his cheeks.

After that day, he resolutely refused to go out with anyone else for the rest of his life. He didn’t need a replacement—he was much better off living with your memory than trying to forget it.

That was exactly how he managed to slowly overcome his pain—by treasuring your memory through the works of art he created, reliving every one of his feelings for you with each brushstroke on the blank canvas, until there was no trace left of the pain he had once felt. Now, all that remained was peace and a beautiful memory that he would keep deep in his heart for the rest of eternity.

It took him 175 years to achieve that peace—175 years in which he held onto the one thing he had left of you: your last painting, the one of a young wealthy woman standing alone in the middle of a grand ballroom. The soft tones and the contrast between the setting and the woman in her simple pastel dress gave off a strange warmth. It wasn’t one of your best paintings—he knew that better than anyone. You had created true masterpieces, works that your clients back then would have died to own. But this one… this one was simple, more discreet, with much less detail—mostly because you were already unwell when you finished it. But your essence, your touch, the feeling you poured into it… all of it was still there. And that made it the most important piece you had ever created.

That was why, as the last act of love he could offer to you and your memory, he traveled to Paris to present it at the Musée d’Orsay. The meeting with the museum’s curator was far more pleasant than he had expected, and he even considered making a generous donation after they agreed to exhibit the painting.

The inner peace he felt when his eyes saw the painting hanging on those cream-colored walls, among hundreds of other paintings from important figures of his era… was something he could never put into words. For the first time, his heart felt at ease—it did not beat, it did not pump blood, he knew that. And yet, for a second, Taehyung felt as if he had come back to life.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent around him. Despite the years, there was still a faint trace of you in it. And though it hurt to think that he would never again hold you in his arms, never again breathe in your scent, he felt happy.

Happy for you—because finally, one of your works bore your real name, because at last, people could see the incredible talent you had. This had been your dream, and somehow, he had made it come true for you.

He wondered if there was something after death, if there was truly a paradise in the afterlife. He knew that if such a place existed, you would undoubtedly be in heaven—in a paradise unlike any other, shining like the brightest star the world had ever seen. If that place was real, were you watching him from above?

What would you think of him right now? Would you be afraid of the fact that he was no longer human? Or of the fact that, in his first years as a vampire, he had taken the lives of many?

Would you still love him from that place so far away from him?

He prayed every day to a god he wasn’t sure existed, just to hold on to the hope that the answer was yes.

"How are things going over there?" Jiwon asked through the phone.

Taehyung’s feet carried him through the museum for the sixth time that afternoon. He still wasn’t in the mood to leave, and it’s not like anyone needed him at home at the moment. He would probably head to a nearby bar, have a glass of wine, and wander around the city until the sun rose again.

"Fine, I guess," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the paintings displayed in front of him. He had seen many of them online, but seeing them in person… it was definitely something completely different. Noticing the brushstrokes, the old traces of a brush over the oil paint, the colors, the size—everything was a new experience. It was like meeting the same person a second time; the feeling and the first impression could never be the same if you only saw them through a screen.

"So expressive, Kim." Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jiwon’s mocking tone. He wasn’t in the mood to be expressive, and it’s not like he was obligated to be.

"Anyway, Jiah is pretty worried. You know how she is, especially when it comes to you."

Taehyung nodded in silence, even though he was aware she would never see the gesture. Jiah was… she was like a mother to their small family. She was the one who turned them, the one who took care of them and taught them how to maintain their composure, always patient and loving with everyone. Taehyung couldn’t recall a single time when she had ever raised her voice at any of them.

He had always known, just like the others, that she had a certain weakness for him, something he associated too much with the fact that she had witnessed him fall apart upon finding you lifeless that night. She was the one who worried about him, who paid to give you a proper funeral, who helped him get through his sleepless nights, and who showed him a completely new world. She was the mother Taehyung never had, and he was grateful every single day for everything she had done for him, despite all the trouble he had dragged her into.

"I’ll be back soon, I just… I just want to say goodbye properly."

He stopped again in front of the painting he had submitted. That small pang in his chest had returned and, although for a few seconds he regretted it, the weight lifted when he saw someone else stop in front of your artwork to take a photo. He had managed to immortalize your memory—that was all that mattered.

At last, he would no longer be the only one completely in love with your art.

There were a few seconds of silence in which neither of them seemed to know what to say. The stillness was broken by Jiwon's soft and—unusually—understanding voice.

"Are you really okay over there, alone? We’re all a bit worried about you."

Taehyung let out a soft chuckle, lowering his head to glance at his elegant brown oxford shoes. When he was still human, he had longed to wear a pair like these, and now that he could afford them, half of his wardrobe revolved around them. You would probably be just as enamored with them as he was.

"I’ll be fine, Jiwon. It’s just a few days, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing."

He made his way toward the museum exit, but not before giving the painting one last look. This would be the last time he saw it—this was the final farewell. He sighed, running his tongue over his dry lips.

"Besides… I need to do this alone."

"Alright, okay, I get it. It’s your healing process and all that cheesy crap you love." Jiwon let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. Even miles away, Taehyung could feel the worry in her voice. A part of him was touched by it. It was nice to see that, despite everything, she still cared for him.

"Just… call us if anything happens, okay? Jimin is about to lose his mind."

"Jimin is always about to lose his mind," he chuckled under his breath, politely nodding to the guards watching the entrance.

The first thing he saw upon stepping outside was the sky, painted in pastel hues, with a faint trace of stars beginning to emerge, preparing to turn it into a beautiful nocturnal canvas with the moon as its protagonist.

"I’m going to hang up. I need to go somewhere else before heading back to my hotel."

"Alright, I get it, you’re bored of me." Even without seeing her, Taehyung knew she was smiling on the other end of the line.

"See you."

And with that, the call ended, leaving him alone with his own thoughts once again.

He wished that becoming a vampire had meant his emotions—like his heart—simply stopped functioning. Life would be easier that way. Carrying the weight of his emotions would be… probably a little more bearable.

The soft sound of Taehyung’s footsteps echoed through the dark streets of Paris, faintly illuminated by the streetlights surrounding the small, quiet alley he had chosen to escape the bustling crowd—and, in turn, his own thoughts. He had stopped by the bar he had wanted to visit for so long, but after spending a couple of hours sitting at the counter, sipping a drink he could barely taste… it was dull not being able to savor it the way he once did.

He gazed up at the night sky stretching above him, noticing how the stars seemed much closer, as if they had gathered there just to shield his eyes, rather than simply existing as part of nature’s design.

Tomorrow, he would probably buy a ticket back to Korea, still debating whether to purchase a first-class seat or a regular one. Jiah had given him more than enough money to indulge in any luxury he desired, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity. He had his own savings, and not just a small amount—old trinkets he once considered worthless centuries ago were now worth millions, a fortunate advantage for all of them.

A soft melody from a nearby radio pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed the old record store beside him, still open for some reason. It had a distinctly vintage, understated charm—exactly Taehyung’s style. He studied its exterior, noting the yellow sign with red lettering perched atop the roof, reading: Le cœur de la musique.

In the display window, several vinyl records from the ’70s and ’80s were neatly arranged, among them the famous Can’t Help Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, the very song now enveloping the alleyway with its gentle notes and romantic lyrics.

Taehyung truly loved that song. He closed his eyes, letting the music seep into more than just his ears—letting it settle into his body as well. With graceful movements, ones that seemed almost ingrained in him, Taehyung began swaying to the melody. He had been a great dancer in his youth. When you were both just children, you had asked him to be your dance partner so you could practice. The two of you had ended up falling completely in love with the warm, intimate feeling of it. Even when your bodies had grown cold, even when death gnawed at your bones and drained your souls, neither of you had ever stopped dancing.

His memories of you returned, vivid as always; he could almost feel the soft scent of your skin against his nose, the sensation of your hair brushing against his rough fingertips, your forehead resting gently on his shoulder, your breath against his chest. It was almost as if you were still there with him, dancing in the empty streets of Paris, in front of an old record store, your hearts swaying in perfect harmony beneath the stars.

His feet continued moving across the pavement until a soft click snapped him out of his trance.

Instantly, all of his senses sharpened. He halted his movements at once, scanning his surroundings for whoever had made that sound. He knew it was a camera. And he knew it hadn’t been close—if it had been, he would have smelled the person’s blood by now, wouldn’t he?

His dark eyes flickered with a brief glint of alertness as he surveyed the alley. That’s when he finally noticed her. At the far end of the alleyway, a young woman stood frozen in place, her face still partially hidden behind the camera lens aimed directly at him.

Before he could even think, his feet carried him forward, ready to demand why she had captured such a personal moment without his permission. But then, the delicate scent of strawberries and roses reached his nose. And right after—her blood.

Sweet. Addictive. More tempting than any other scent he had encountered in his 175 years of existence.

For a fleeting moment, Taehyung swore his heart beat again, just from the sheer intoxication of it. His gums began to itch as his fangs pressed against the inside of his lip, the thirst for blood growing exponentially with every step he took. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the overwhelming urge to feed suffocating him, clouding his mind.

Until she lowered the camera.

Until he saw your eyes.

Large. Bright. Filled with life, staring at him from the end of the alley.

His heart—still lifeless, still incapable of pumping blood—felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. And though he had no need to breathe, he swore the air caught in his lungs.

Did that make sense? Of course not, but you—standing right there, smiling at him as if you hadn’t died in his arms over 170 years ago—didn’t make sense either.

And yet, there you were.

The same eyes. The same lips. Your hair was different, yes, but everything else… everything else was exactly as he remembered. Exactly the same as the day death had stolen you from him.

Was this some kind of punishment? Retribution for the countless lives he had taken in his early years as a vampire?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” you blurted out the moment you noticed the man standing just a few feet away from you. A soft, warm blush quickly spread across your cheeks—not only from the embarrassment of being caught photographing a complete stranger without permission but also because that very stranger, the one now standing before you, was breathtakingly handsome. And now he was looking directly at you, so intensely that you could feel his gaze burning into your skin.

“I-It’s just that I was on my way back to my hotel, and I saw you dancing alone. You had this melancholic expression that was just so captivating from here and… I’m sorry, that’s no excuse for what I did, I’ll delete the photo right away!”

As you fumbled over your apology, nervously gripping your camera once again, Taehyung took the opportunity to examine you—every detail of your face. You had the same beauty mark beneath your left eye. The same faint scar between your index and middle fingers. Even your voice—one he remembered as if it were his own—was exactly the same.

Your clumsy way of speaking.

The pink flush on your cheeks.

Your long eyelashes.

There was no doubt in his mind. The young woman standing before him was you.

“I…” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s your name?”

He watched as your eyes lifted to meet his. He couldn’t help but notice how your lips parted slightly at the unexpected question.

Ah.

He still remembered the way your lips moved against his—soft yet intoxicating, slow yet sensual, always keeping him on edge. He remembered the way you used to smile whenever he playfully nibbled on your lower lip.

He missed it.

He missed you.

“Oh! S-Sorry, how rude of me,” you chuckled nervously, carefully lowering your camera so that it hung freely around your neck. The strap dug slightly into your exposed skin, but it was the safest way to carry it without accidentally dropping it. “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, savoring every letter of your name.

He knew it. He knew it. It was impossible for you to be anyone else.

His eyes began to sting as the reality of what was happening finally settled in.

After 175 miserable years—

You had come back to him.

Looking exactly as you had the last time he saw you.

“The pleasure is mine,” he said softly, reaching out to take your hand in his own, gently, fearful that the moment his fingers brushed against your skin, you would disappear.

But you didn’t.

You were still there when his lips pressed lightly against your knuckles, inhaling your scent as discreetly as possible.

So this is how you smelled when you were full of life.

Without an illness slowly stealing you away. Your blood had the sweetest scent he had ever known, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes at the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart echoing in his ears, proof that you were alive, proof that you were here.

Taehyung had never believed in God, but now, with you standing before him— he could only describe this as a miracle.

Masterlist.

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beegomess · 9 months ago

Text

T.R. || The girl who came from hell

Summary:Tom really thought he was above you, but that ends when you realize that you need to put him in his place. Warnings: Just a little toxic relationship.

Requests are open!

Tom's interest in you began in the fifth year at Hogwarts. You were almost like a reflection of him: Slytherin, studious and astute, determined to achieve her goals. The difference between you, however, was in the fact that you had the inheritance that mattered: your last name, power, contacts and money, all coming from your family without any effort.

The approach began during a task of Potions. Since then, they have started to walk together and share their plans. Tom, of course, knew that approaching you was advantageous for his ambitions, initially motivated by pure interest. Over time, the interests of both also became carnal, and soon you were a couple. But make no mistake, you were not naive, maybe you knew Tom better than anyone at Hogwarts and understood the meaning of all that, but you wouldn't mind as long as you had control over it.

His father, however, hated this union at the beginning. Tom didn't have the pure blood so valued by his family, he didn't have the money or an influential family. However, Tom's charm, combined with his ability to persuade, ended up changing the man's opinion. This gave Riddle a renewed confidence, leading him to be possessive with you, in an attempt to ensure that only he could enjoy the prestige and power that his relationship provided.

However, the fact that they are similar in everything, including this, was what made them get closer and fall in love, in the most toxic sense of the word. You thought he saw you as an equal, who respected you in the same way, but you were wrong, and came to discover it in a disgusting way.

You began to notice the way some girls looked at Riddle, and he, being a man, could barely disguise his interactions in his eyes even more attentive, who saw every look given by him to the body of another, every disappearance during the day. It wasn't frequent, but it was remarkable. And today, you expected to put him in his place finally, already possessed with the way you heard a girl bragging about him in the bathroom.

For you, it was fun to provoke him from time to time, flirt with another boy and make him angry with anger. But never, ever, have they gone from silly flirts. You believed that they should be loyal to each other, after all, they had much bigger plans and if they couldn't trust each other, none of that would make sense. Tom, on the other hand, thought he used you, that he had you in the palm of his hand. You were beautiful, and your family definitely helped you in many ways, but he never really took you seriously. Tom needed to think like that, he needed it because that way he would be someone.

And then, in that fateful afternoon, when, when passing through one of the empty classrooms looking for him, you saw, through the small slit of the door, the image of an ordinary student kneeling in front of Riddle, who in turn had her belt and pants open.

His eyes were not filled with tears, but with a deep hatred that was born there. You liked the possessiveness and it was definitely not like that with him, a strange and somewhat sickly relationship that you simply liked, it was almost like a cat and mouse hunt. But maybe I had to bring limits to this game now, maybe Tom didn't really know you as you imagined.

Your heels took you to the interior of the classroom, the shoes echoing on the stone floor, scaring the two present. The girl quickly moved away from Tom, who dressed calmly and waved for her to leave.

Tom's face remained neutral, without any blush or expression of regret.

- It's not the first time this has happened, is it? - His face had a sarcastic smile on his face, frighteningly quiet.

- No. - He replied simply, approaching you slowly, with his hands in his pockets. - I thought you didn't mind, honey. Aren't you the one who keeps flirting with other boys? - Tom smiled slightly, provoking a penetrating look coming from you.

- I've never had sex with any of them. - You paused, holding Tom's hand and pulling him out of the room on a slow walk. - But I'm curious, aren't you satisfied with me, Tommy? - A false sadness dyed your words as you stared at him in the hallway when you were stopped by him.

- Of course I am, dear. You shouldn't have seen that. I'm sorry. - Tom rolled his eyes internally, irritated by the amount of questions, but excellent at lying, saying what he thought you would like to hear to finally get rid of his visible and exaggerated drama.

- That's good, love. But spare me your empty excuses, Tommy, I don't like them lying to me. - Your body approached, still holding your boyfriend's hand and with a gentle smile, continuing your speech. - Just be careful that I don't get tired of you. You wouldn't want that.

His false kindness made Tom's face squirm in fury. He hated being threatened and would not accept being challenged in that way, especially coming from someone he believed to have full control.

- Come on, Tom. We know that you need me more than I need you. That's no secret to anyone, love. - You kissed him on the cheek, running your hands around his neck, watching as a spark of hatred appeared in your eyes.

Those who saw it from the outside could swear that you were swearing your love to each other, given the soft touches and false, but extremely convincing smiles, that you directed to him.

- I don't need to... - Tom started, but his voice interrupted him quickly.

- Yes, you need to. After all, what are you without me, Tommy? Nothing... - You digred. - You don't have the blood, you don't have the money, you don't have the power, nothing. You're nothing but me, dear. And it annoys me to have to say that, but I see that you still don't understand.

Tom felt a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within himself. He, who had always been proud of being undisturbed and cold, now found himself trapped in a network of feelings that he could not control. The wounded pride and anger mixed with a new and disconcerting feeling: insecurity. Never before had anyone challenged his authority and exposed his vulnerability in this way.

As his words echoed in his mind, he felt the control over the situation slip through his fingers. The certainty of his superiority seemed to fall apart, replaced by a painful realization of his dependence on you. He needed you more than he was willing to admit, and that consumed him from the inside out.

- Do you really think you can threaten me like this? - He murmured, his voice loaded with a contained poison as he squeezed one of his arms, taking you to the dark side of the hallway. - You think you know me so well, but you have no idea what I'm capable of doing.

- I'm not threatening you, Tommy. I'm just making it clear how much you need me. - Your voice came out with coldness and a still feigned kindness making him even more angry, his eyes fixed on his, challenging him to deny the truth.

Tom felt the anger boil, but at the same time, a part of him recognized the veracity in the words you said. He couldn't stand the idea of being seen as weak, but there, in front of you, his invulnerability mask was about to fall.

- You may be right. - He admitted with great reluctance, his lips contracting in a fine line. - But never forget, Y/N, that I also know how to play this game. And I don't intend to lose.

You smiled, a smile that mixed triumph and compassion.

- I never expected you to lose, love. I just want you to realize that this game is not just yours. And maybe, if you allow yourself, we can play together. - Your body is released from the grip, depositing a kiss on Tom's lips, feeling all the cold and anger that echoed from him. - Just don't forget that. - You add with a serious face, but soon forming a smile.

With these words, you turned around, leaving Tom alone in the hallway, wrapped in his own reflections and conflicts. He knew that, as much as he hated to admit it, you were the only one who could challenge and balance your world. And, deep down, maybe that's exactly what he needed.

Tom stood there for a moment, watching you move away with decisive steps. His gaze followed every movement of his body as he disappeared in the darkness of the corridor. The discussion had left a bitter taste in his mouth, a mixture of resentment and a strange intensity of desire.

He would never admit it out loud, but the way you challenged him, the way you messed with him, aroused something deep inside Tom. It was as if every confrontation, every exchange of words was a spark that lit the fire he tried to keep under control.

As he revived his words in his mind, Tom felt a mixture of frustration and a growing admiration for his cunning. You knew exactly how to press the right buttons, how to put it against the wall and make it question your own strength and control.

A sigh escaped from his lips as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to lighten the tumultuous thoughts. I couldn't deny that there was something magnetic in you, something that attracted and irritated you at the same time. But love, in the traditional sense, seemed like an unknown and unattainable territory for both. Their lives were dominated by ambitious goals, by the incessant search for power and control, which often shocked and drove them away.

Riddle saw the desire grow within him, not only for his body, but also for the sharp mind and the ambitious goals they shared. It was an attraction based on a kind of admiration, in the tacit understanding of each other's ambitions.

With a resigned sigh, Tom began to walk in the opposite direction to his. It was not the time to surrender to physical desire or to get lost in the traps of possessiveness. It was time to find a way that would take you away from the reins you controlled.

Maybe that moment served you in some way, Tom was starting to see her closer to his own pedestal. However, he wouldn't admit any of that out loud and much less mentally. At that moment he had two conflicting feelings: an absurd desire to get you out of the way or simply nestle in your body, a moment when only he had control, even if this control was consented by you.

______________________________________

masterlist here A/N: I hope you enjoyed this new perspective. I wanted to do something different since I always see Tom coming out on top, haha xoxo, bee✨🫶🏼

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writeyouin · 11 months ago

Note

I dont know if this went through but can I get a valentines day request for tfa sentinel prime falling in love with a g/n human reader?

Sentinel Prime (TFA) X Reader – Making Alliances

Description: After the war between Earth and Cybertron ended, you were recruited to work alongside Sentinel Prime. Yet, he tries to make your job hard, determined to keep on hating humans. Yet, given time, he finds it almost impossible to dislike you, no matter how hard he tries.

A/N – I had such a basic bitch plan for this and instead it turned into one of my longer fics.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Guys, really, it’s fine. I’m fine,” You tried to assure the Autobots.

Optimus, Bulkhead and Ratchet looked at you doubtfully. Bumblebee looked more annoyed.

“Fine? How can you be fine with this? This reeks!” He exclaimed, waving his arms around.

You stifled a laugh at his over-dramatics. “Okay, I’ll admit, I never saw myself working with Sentinel, but… It’s not a terrible idea.”

Although you had your doubts, you believed what you said. Now that the war was over, and Megatron had been defeated, Cybertron had officially launched the Earth Alliance Program. Since the Autobots had been posted on Earth during the war, there was no point denying Alien existence, even though many Cybertronians didn’t think much of humans. Having been stationed on Cybertron for a week while you acclimatised, you had heard the hushed comments about how you weren’t advanced enough to be there, and how weak and fragile your frame was.

When the Autobots had come to your planet, they had faced their share of xenophobia, some of which continued to this day. Now that you were on their planet, you were beginning to get the same treatment.

In an attempt to bring your races closer together, Ultra Magnus had decided it would be best for you to be placed with a high-ranking officer, and as such he had made you Sentinel Prime’s assistant. Although he could have just as easily put you to work with Jazz, or left you with Optimus’ team, you understood his reasoning. If Sentinel could get over his prejudices, then anyone could. Besides, you still had one week left before you were to begin your work. In that time, you were expected to report any struggles that you had living on Cybertron.

In your first week, you had reported that the shower in your specially-made apartment was too hot, the cooking facilities were inadequate, and that you needed your own mode of transport so nobody else had to help you get around.

All the issues were addressed relatively quickly and now you had a motor-scooter which ran on autopilot. The vehicle did have a function for you to drive it yourself, but it had been dictated that you could not use that unless it was an emergency, otherwise you would be in breach of the first Cybertronian law written with humans in mind; it seemed that the governing body didn’t trust you to drive, though their fear and prejudice didn’t bother you too much.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Bumblebee waved his arms erratically.

While you had been lost in thought about your new position, he had been ranting about what a scrap heap Sentinel was.

You held up your hands placatingly, feeling a tiny pang of sadness that Prowl wasn’t there. It used to be him that ended Bumblebee’s tirades but… Well, everyone knew that war had its casualties; you just wished that it didn’t have to be someone you knew.

“Yes, I’m, listening. But seriously Bumblebee, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s just a job.”

‘A job I feel massively underqualified for,’ You added in your head, thinking how you had only been chosen because you met the Autobots by chance and they trusted you as their second human liaison.

Sari would also start her life on Cybertron, but seeing how she was techno-organic and only a teenager, she was going to school to learn about her Cybertronian heritage and culture.

Jazz and Bulkhead were going to stay on Earth, and Optimus was going to travel between both planets in an attempt to cement the worlds’ budding relationship. So, for a while, you would be alone, at least in a working capacity. Granted, Ratchet and Bumblebee would be nearby, but this was something you would have to do on your own.

“Alright,” Bumblebee grumbled. “But if he’s a glitch-head, get me and I’ll kick the scrap outta him!”

“You and what army?” Ratchet commented drily.

You chuckled and thanked Bumblebee, touching his arm to soothe him. A blush dusted his cheeks.

“Uh games night?” He said hurriedly, attempting to hide his feelings before racing off to where Sari was waiting for you all.

You ignored his flush red, fully aware of how he felt about you. You knew that was a conversation that the two of you would have to have one day, but you waited for the day he might bring it up. Besides, since this was the last night everyone would be together for a while, you didn’t want anything to jeopardise the fun, especially when faced with something as tough as unrequited love.

“I’m here,” You said breathlessly, shooting through the automatic door just in time for work.

Sentinel glared at you. He had been counting on you being late so that he could complain about you to anyone who would listen afterwards.

“So… What would you like me to do, Sentinel Prime, Sir?” You bowed formally. There was no need to do so, but you hoped that by addressing him with such respect, he might warm to you somewhat. Having met him once or twice before, you knew how arrogant he could be and had decided for an easy life it might be better to stroke his ego somewhat.

Your gambit paid off as Sentinel forgot whatever sharp insult he was about to say. Instead, he blustered, puffed out his chest and managed to order you to stay out of his way while he did his job.

“Sorry Sir, but Ultra Magnus ordered me to help you in whatever way I can.”

“I know that! It doesn’t matter. I don’t need your help. Just stay out of my way and at the end of all this, we can tell Ultra Magnus to have you reassigned.”

“No, sir,” You said adamantly, standing your ground.

“What?” Sentinel spat, his lip curling.

“I’m here to work with you. I won’t be shunted to the side just ‘cos I’m human. Our planets worked together to capture Megatron, now we have to work together to show that our races can do the same.”

Sentinel stared menacingly at you. He didn’t want to be anywhere near you. You were small, organic, filthy. With that in mind, he wished you would just leave. He didn’t want any of your gross germs on him. Yet, it seemed that you were also stubborn in your mission.

“Fine,” He said after a minute, though it was clear he wanted to tell you where to go. “Just don’t do any of that gross human stuff. If you sneeze-” He didn’t finish his sentence, shuddering at the thought.

You gave him a thumbs up, “No sneezing, got it.”

With that, Sentinel finally gave you some work to do, and you began what was sure to be a rocky relationship.

Working with Sentinel was difficult.

Sometimes, he would barely give you any work at all, insisting you use your ‘initiative’ to find tasks that would aid him. On other days, he would pile your workload impossibly high, and if you were struggling to understand the reports that he had ordered you to complete, that was your fault and he wouldn’t help you.

Either way, at the end of the shift, he would get to kick back at the bar and complain that you either didn’t understand the job or couldn’t keep up with the tasks provided to a bunch of equally closed-minded mechs who wanted to see you fail.

Still, you didn’t complain, doing your best to learn all you needed to succeed. To Sentinel it was infuriating, but you knew that if you complained, it would validate everything he thought about you, no matter how unfair it was.

Fortunately, you learned how to better work around him by talking to him with the utmost respect, complimenting him, and generally getting him talking about himself. On days when he indulged you with stories of his glory days, he was a little kinder, occasionally throwing you a bone and helping you out a bit with some of your workload, or sometimes instructing you on things you had been struggling with.

Still, your working relationship wasn’t great and wouldn’t be viable unless something changed.

Such a day finally came when Sentinel had the terrible idea that you should be faster, and very suddenly presented you with his patented human speed shoes… They were rollerblades.

“I can’t use these,” You sighed when he threw them at you, too afraid to hand them to you in case you touched him.

“You can and you will,” Sentinel harrumphed.

“Sentinel, I can’t rollerblade, at least not with all the things I have to carry about, and-”

“Is this you refusing to work, human?”

You rolled your eyes. Not only was he seeking an excuse to stop working with you, but he was also playing his trump card by calling you human instead of using your name; he did that whenever he wanted to instil a feeling of power imbalance upon you.

“Fine,” You sighed, giving in. “I’ll wear the damn rollerblades.”

“Speed-shoes,” Sentinel corrected.

“Speed-shoes,” You conceded, finding him to be extra impossible.

As you had told Sentinel, using the rollerblades for work was impossible, especially when you were carrying a stack of oversized datapads that you couldn’t see over, since Sentinel was also being unreasonable about your workload.

It started as a stumble on one of the higher walkways that had been provided like scaffolding around the office for you to work with. Yet, instead of falling, you dropped the datapads, tripped backwards, and screamed as you fell over the handrail.

While Sentinel was mostly paper-pushing since the war was over, he was still trained for battle. He hurriedly spun around at the sound of your scream and ran to catch you. While he was timely in his rescue, he wasn’t gentle and he blanched at the sound of bone snapping.

He expected you to cry out again, but you were worryingly quiet upon the realisation that your leg had broken.

“(Y/N)!” Sentinel yelled your name. His processor skipped over the necessary sentences as he scrambled to think of what to say next. He was stuck between asking if you were okay, even though you clearly weren’t, ordering you not to tell anyone about the speed shoes that had caused the accident, and demanding you to tell him how to fix you.

“I- I-” Tears streamed from your eyes.

Sentinel was taken aback by how pale you were and how unusual it felt to hold you. He was certain he would drop you if any liquids came out of you, yet here you were crying and all he wanted to do was hold you closer and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

You were soft and warm and… completely unexpected.

“R-Ratchet,” You managed to say between your sniffles and grunts of pain, pulling the rollerblades off, even though it hurt to move.

“Right!” Sentinel exclaimed, snapping out of his silence.

He transformed into vehicle mode, grimacing when it caused you more pain to be jostled about, then he sped to the medical school where Ratchet was spending his twilight years, passing on his knowledge to another generation of bots.

“What in tarnation is going on here?” Ratchet demanded of Sentinel as he held you out to the older bot in the safety of a private med-bay.

“I-(Y/N)-” Sentinel stammered, feeling the pressure of Ratchet’s stern glare.

“I fell,” You said weakly to Ratchet.

“Fell, huh?” Ratchet said doubtfully. “Where are your shoes, kid?”

You shook your head, indicating that it didn’t matter, but Ratchet was an astute old bot, and he shot a scathing to look at Sentinel, even though you hadn’t sold him out.

“Really, Ratchet. It- it was my f-”

“Never mind that, kid. Let’s get you seen to.”

Although Sentinel wanted to leave, he stayed, mostly because he couldn’t fathom why you hadn’t told on him. He regretted that decision when Ratchet asked him to chat privately after treating you. By that point, you were too tired to protect Sentinel further, and the pain medication had made you somewhat woozy. Besides, even if you had been in any shape to argue, you couldn’t keep up with either of them on a bandaged leg, and without assistance you couldn’t get down from the medical berth provided.

Once Ratchet had got Sentinel out of your sight, he began yelling, “I don’t know what you did, but you're darn lucky that kid isn’t selling you out! That’s far more loyalty than you’d ever give to them!”

“Wha-” Sentinel spluttered, offended and slightly intimidated by the older bot.

“Don’t you dare try to explain yourself to me! Young bots are all alike, all arrogance and no spark. Do you know how long it takes for an injury like that to heal in humans?! AND (Y/N) WILL BE TRAPPED HERE FOR A FEW DAYS, BORED AND ALONE SINCE YOU KEEP TELLING EVERY DAMNED BOT WHO’LL LISTEN TO YOU HOW LITTLE YOU THINK OF HUMANS!”

“I-” Sentinel held up a finger to argue, but Ratchet slapped his servo away.

“Don’t you dare try to argue with me,” He said dangerously. “I’ve seen (Y/N) a few times since she started working with you. You’ve overworked that poor kid for no reason at all, and let me tell you something- That kid won’t quit. You can pile on all the work you want, and (Y/N) will do it. They’ll exhaust themself to do anything you ask, all because they’re the bigger person and want to be friends.”

Ratchet barked a mirthless laugh, continuing his tirade, “Friends, HAH! But you won’t let that happen, will you, Mr. Bigshot. No, ‘cos you’re so superior. Well, anything to say for yourself now?”

Sentinel looked somewhat ashamed and contrite after Ratchet’s verbal rebuke, yet he let his anger bubble up and overtake him.

“I am your superior officer,” He spat contemptuously.

Ratchet shook his head, disgustedly. “Then lead by example and do something worthy of the title.”

The older bot was about to walk away, but Sentinel wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction, so he stormed ahead first, rushing back to the room you were stuck in.

“Come on (Y/N), I’m taking you home.”

“I just told you (Y/N) has to stay here,” Ratchet yelled, catching up.

“Not if there’s someone to take care of them.”

“And you’re gonna do that?”

“Yes!”

Sentinel picked you up, more gently than before, and this time, he was extra careful as he transformed so as to spare you any discomfort.

He wasn’t entirely certain whether to take you to your own home or his, but after some thought about organic fuels and how much effort you would have to put into traversing his sizeable house, he opted for taking you to your place, next door to the techno-organic and down the road from that insufferable Bumblebee.

Sentinel especially hated the contentious yellow mini-bot since he always found reasons to bother you at work and it was a massive distraction. It didn’t help that Bumblebee was obviously head over pedes for you and that he had no respect for Sentinel at all; he only ever left at your insistence, and always with an insult for Sentinel about the workload he gave to you.

Hm… your workload. Sentinel couldn’t help thinking about what an aft he’d been of late.

“When you’re fit for work, I think you should take it easy. No more 12 groon days.”

A groon on Cybertron was more or less an hour, and you nodded along sleepily in understanding, grumbling a half-word that didn’t make sense outside of your head.

“Hey, are you listening?”

Your eyes shut heavily and you could barely lift them open to respond.

“Great, I suppose I have to take you to bed now too?” Sentinel complained, covering just how worried he was that you were acting out of the ordinary.

When he got you home, Sentinel struggled to take care of you; he had very little knowledge on humans, except that they had corrosive spit, though most were apparently too civilised to use it. Your house was a hybrid of human-sized equipment and catwalks, and lounge space for several Cybertronians, yet having never been there before, Sentinel didn’t know the layout, nor did he understand what half your appliances did, or what certain rooms were for.

He did manage to find your bed and lift you up to it, but after that, he felt like he should be doing something more to help. You were recharging now, but you would probably need things when you woke up.

Stuck on what to do, Sentinel reluctantly knocked on your neighbour’s door.

“What do you want?” Sari asked obnoxiously, annoyed to have been interrupted in the middle of the day, right after she had returned from class.

“I- I-” Sentinel made an effort to swallow his pride, an act which took a good five minutes. “I need your help.”

It took Sari about 10 minutes to stop laughing, but she got very serious when Sentinel begrudgingly explained that you were injured and that he didn’t know how to help you. After seeing you in bed, sleeping off the pain medication that Ratchet had administered, Sari explained very carefully how long it would take for your leg to heal, and what Sentinel had to do in the few coming days to help you out, such as placing a water bottle by your bed, and making sure your crutches were in reach.

Sentinel listened to everything she said, ignoring the back-handed insults that came his way, then after Sari left, he settled into the bot-sized lounge, waiting for you to wake up. He put the TV on, watching a show from Earth you had left in the player, synching the volume to his audials, but keeping it low all the same in case he needed to hear you wake up.

Having watched several episodes of the comedy show you had, Sentinel had to admit, it was pretty funny… for something humans had made. The idea of Ghosts being so ridiculously stupid did amuse him.

You woke up quietly, sucking in pain through your teeth as the medication you had been given started to wear off. Admittedly, you were surprised to see Sentinel in your house, even though you vaguely remembered him promising that he would be there.

It was amusing to see him actually having fun for once. Usually, he was tense and angry around you; you hadn’t realised he could be happy without putting someone else down.

You tried to get up without disturbing him but the crutch clattered to the floor before you could grab it.

“(Y/N),” Sentinel stood up quickly. “How are you feeling? Do you need Ratchet again?”

“I’m-” You thought about saying you were fine, as was the expected social response. Instead, you decided to answer truthfully. “I’m tired, but my leg was bothering me a bit.”

“It’ll be fine,” You added hurriedly before he could rush off to get help you didn’t need, “It’s just sore.”

Sentinel nodded. “From what I understand, it will be painful for some time,” He didn’t mention that by that he also meant the memory of inadvertently hurting you.

You nodded with a tired smile, “Yeah… Could be worse though. Thank you, for getting me help.”

“Thank… Thank you for your loyalty.”

You nodded again, “Yeah uh… You- You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I can take care of myself.”

Sentinel would have gladly left if he didn’t feel so responsible for you. “I need to stay for a while if you are comfortable with me being here.”

“Okay,” You agreed, reaching again for your crutches so you could go to the bathroom.

Sentinel hurried to pick them up for you. “Okay,” He agreed solemnly.

Sentinel was surprisingly attentive to you. Although you only needed him for a day or so, he insisted on staying the full week. After that, he brought work to you for a while, afraid that if you returned to the main work base, you’d somehow make your recovery take longer.

Yet, the reports that he brought you were easier than before, confirming your suspicions that he had initially made your job harder than it needed to be; the deadlines were also laxer, and he took the time to explain a few things to you.

He stopped complaining about you to bots at the bar, and now on the odd occasion you sneezed or cleared your throat, he didn’t flinch or make nasty comments. In short, he was getting used to you, and you realised that when he tried, he could be very nice.

The peace was short lived however when Bumblebee came over to visit for the fourth time since you’d been hurt.

“You should quit,” He told you, point-blank, having abandoned the video game the two of you had been playing.

“Excuse me?” You asked, wondering what had prompted his response this time.

“Quit! Go back to working for the correct Prime. Optimus would treat you better and he wouldn’t make you work when you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. A broken leg is not a sickness.”

“It’s an injury,” Bumblebee said accusingly, raising his voice.

“Bumblebee, this is for our races to work together. This is a good start.”

Bumblebee blushed. The way you spoke so passionately about your races working together made him think that you were talking about more than work… Maybe, you were talking about you and him. Together.

“Besides,” You added, “Working for Sentinel isn’t half-bad, you know. He’s- He’s been kind to me.”

Bumblebee froze at the look on your face. Pink-dusted cheeks, a soft smile that he had imagined would be reserved for him, the way your eyes glazed over almost dreamily when you spoke about Sentinel. No, no! This couldn’t be happening. You could not get feelings for that pompous, arrogant, pile of SLAG!

“How did you get hurt?” Bumblebee asked, dangerously quiet, though you missed the intention behind his tone.

He had asked you before, but you rattled off an excuse about being careless.

“I already told you,” You started, only to be cut off by a Bumblebee who was angrier than you’d ever seen him before.

“HOW DID YOU GET HURT?!”

“Bumblebee-”

“HOW?! IT WAS HIM WASN’T IT!”

“I-”

Bumblebee ran out of your house, transforming as soon as he was on the streets. He was determined to give Sentinel a piece of his mind.

It took a while for Bumblebee to find Sentinel, not knowing the places that the Prime frequented. Yet, he eventually found him leaving a store with a small box that fit under his arm.

Bumblebee rushed at Sentinel, throwing a punch against the larger bot’s jaw. Had he been prepared, Sentinel might have faired better, but as it was, he dropped the box he was carrying and stumbled backwards, against the alley wall.

Bumblebee tried to pin him but Sentinel pushed him back, grappling his arms.

“WHAT THE FRAG ARE YOU DOING?” Sentinel demanded as the two struggled, holding each other’s shoulder plates and trying to get the better of their opponent.

Bumblebee headbutted Sentinel in the chassis to little effect, “IT’S YOUR FAULT (Y/N) GOT HURT! ADMIT IT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Bumblebee waited for the adamant denial Sentinel was known for. He pushed Sentinel back, readying his stingers, and only stopping when Sentinel answered.

“Yes.”

Bumblebee stopped in his tracks, mouth agape. Sentinel had never once taken responsibility for his actions.

“What?”

“It was my fault,” Sentinel admitted bitterly.

For the first time since finding him that night, Bumblebee really looked at Sentinel. “Why? Why now? After all this time, you finally admit to something…”

“It’s not natural…” Sentinel said more to himself than to Bumblebee. He was thinking about his feelings towards you, certain that it wasn’t right for a Cybertronian to feel anything romantic towards a human. He bent down to pick up the box which had spilled its contents onto the floor.

Bumblebee glanced down finding that it was all things for humans. Imported books from Earth, snacks you had been known to eat, herbal tea that Ratchet often recommended, and some pain medication.

Bumblebee picked up the tea, staring at it morosely before handing it to Sentinel who took it warily.

“(Y/N) doesn’t like that flavour,” He said quietly.

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bumblebee nodded. He didn’t apologise for his actions, though it was implied in his tone when he addressed Sentinel for the final time that night, “Take better care of them. They’re everything to me.”

Sentinel nodded, watching Bumblebee walk away afterwards. He stayed there a few minutes longer before heading over to your house to gift you the things he had bought.

Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #maccadam #transformers animated #tfa #ratchet #sentinel prime #sentinel prime x reader #sentinel prime x you #bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #making alliances

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shadowsandlint · 11 days ago

Text

Mortician's Ghost

Happy birthday to the amazing @talibunny30!! 🎉🎉🎉

You have given so much to the Azris community, and I felt like it was high time you got something back. You are a warm, wonderful person, and you deserve the world. I hope you'll enjoy this story, and that you'll appreciate all the little details that were added just for you. Your husband has been supplying me with tips, so it should be in your spirit (no pun intended).

The lovely art is made by @fourteentrout, and I am so SO happy with how it turned out! Thank you, Trouty!! Thanks is also owed @chunkypossum and @iftheshoef1tz for helping me polish up the words, I'm so lucky to have you as my betas. And thank you to @acourtofladydeath for answering all my macabre questions on autopsies and embalming. There were a lot.

Tali, earlier today you said to me that to be known is to be loved. Hopefully this will make you feel very much known ❤️

Much love, Lint

Slightly morbid excerpt under the cut, first chapter on ao3.

He had to be near comatose with exhaustion; it was the only explanation why he hadn’t recognized the name before unzipping the bag, only going through the automatic motions of his day-to-day work. But when his table had unexpectedly been occupied by the cold, vacant body of his high school bully, Azriel woke up damn abruptly. Heart skipping a beat before thumping hard against his sternum, Azriel stared down at Eris Vanserra in disbelief and horror as he took in the large, crude Y-incision across his chest. There was no discernible movement, no pulse running beneath the skin that in life had been so very fair, but now, in death, only seemed sickly. Which was highly ironic, Azriel thought, as Eris Vanserra would never get sick again. His gaze trailed from the incision up to Eris’s gaunt and tight face, to the jaw that had to be held in place with ties. It felt jarring how there was no crooked smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, especially when Azriel could still see the image of it so clearly. He had unwillingly been on the receiving end of it enough times to remember, even if he had tried to give back as little attention as he possibly could. It hadn’t really worked, anyway. But none of that mattered now, did it? It happened so long ago, surely he had to be over it by now. Anything else would be pathetic, wouldn’t it? They were both grown now — Azriel swallowed against a rough lump in his throat, his forehead wrinkling. At least one of them was. At least he was. The Vanserra dirtbag, on the other hand… Azriel’s gaze fell back to him. The freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones should have stood out more against the pallid complexion, but it was as if they had been washed out. It was like someone, in their erasure of his life, had made too broad a sweep, erasing and blurring the edges of what made him human. And even with the eyelids closed, Azriel knew that the color beneath was close to the whiskey he was seriously starting to crave. At least, that had been the case back when the redhead had reveled in every taunt he could throw Azriel’s way. His irises had used to ignite with malicious glee before he would sling clever lines in between rows of lockers, or snarl slurs over his shoulder at the cafeteria. Now, Azriel knew without pulling back the lids, there would be a white sheen over that strange amber, as if someone had diluted the whiskey with milk. Never mind the eyelid caps that were most likely already in place to aid in the illusion that Eris’s body wasn’t already decomposing, that the eyeballs were probably deflated in their sockets —

The rest of Chapter 1: Haunt is up on ao3 :))

Let me know if you want on or off the tags: @jules-writes-stories @neciebee @mistandmemories @the-darkestminds @ysmtttty @aurorasleeps-27 @brunetterebel010 @secret-third-thing @nocasdatsgay @gravitysthrall @born-to-riot @chairofchaos @molcat07 @pippsmcgee @g00seg1rl @witch-and-her-witcher @beesays @fieldofdaisiies

#azris #ghost azris #azris fanfiction #azris intensifies #eris vanserra #azriel x eris #azriel shadowsinger #azris fanart

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ghostlynightpanda · 19 days ago

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Petals and Promises

English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes, feel free to contact me!

Synopsis: Tendou Satori and his childhood best friend were separated by distance, but when they reunite years later in Tokyo by coincidence, the connection they once shared sparks into something deeper. From a flower given on the playground long ago to a life together in Paris, their love is a promise fulfilled, built on shared dreams and a bond that time and distance couldn't break.

warnings/content: Tendou Satori x fem!reader, angst and fluff, 3.140 words

The first time you met Tendou Satori, you were five years old and he was crying on the curb outside your house.

You remember it vividly—he had scrapes on his knees, dirt on his cheeks, and a slightly oversized red hoodie slipping off one shoulder. His hair was wild even then, a mess of crimson that made him look like a character out of a manga. He didn't notice you at first, until you sat down beside him with all the confidence a kindergartener could carry and offered him your juice box.

"You're bleeding," you said plainly, pointing at his knee.

He sniffled. "They pushed me," he mumbled, eyes glued to the gravel. "They said I look weird."

That was the first time you got angry on his behalf. Not a tantrum, not tears—just quiet, unwavering anger. You stood up, tiny fists clenched, and said, "Well, I think you look cool. Like a hero. Want to be best friends?"

He blinked at you. And then he nodded.

From that day forward, you were inseparable.

The years that followed blurred into sun-drenched afternoons and late-night whispers through your bedroom windows. You lived in the house next to his—just a hop over the fence—and you practically lived at each other's place. His mom always set out an extra plate when you came over, and your parents knew to check the Tendou house first if you ever went "missing."

You stood by him through everything. Every cruel nickname, every sideways glance from kids who didn't understand his humor or the way his eyes sparkled a little too brightly when he got excited. You got into your first fight in second grade because someone called him a monster. You pushed the boy hard enough he landed in a puddle. Tendou had stared at you afterward, like you'd just hung the stars.

"I'm not gonna let them talk about you like that," you'd said simply, wiping mud off your skirt.

From then on, he never questioned if someone had his back.

One warm spring afternoon, when you were both eight, you were playing in the park near your houses—your usual spot, where the trees arched high above and the grass felt like the softest blanket. You were making dandelion crowns while Tendou hunted for the perfect flower.

He returned to you triumphantly, holding a small, slightly wilted wildflower he'd found growing near the edge of the playground. It was purple, with soft petals and a crooked stem, and he held it like it was treasure.

"It's for you," he said, a little shy, scratching the back of his neck. "I, uh... I picked the prettiest one."

You took it like it was the most important thing in the world.

"I'll marry you one day," he blurted, cheeks flushed pink.

You blinked at him. "Really?"

He nodded so seriously it made you giggle. "Yup. Best friends forever. And then, when we're old enough, we'll get married. I'll make chocolate every day so you're never sad."

"Okay," you agreed, linking your pinky with his. "It's a promise."

Neither of you knew then how big the world would get, or how small you'd feel without each other. You only knew that in that moment, with a flower between your fingers and the sun painting gold into his red hair, everything felt perfect.

And that Tendou Satori was your best friend. Always would be.

Middle school crept up faster than either of you expected.

One minute, you were still swinging on the rusted playground, hands sticky from candy and mud, and the next, the days felt shorter and the afternoons heavier. There was more homework, more pressure, and less time to just be kids. But no matter how busy the world got, you and Tendou stayed glued together—walking home side by side every day, trading notes during lunch, claiming your bench under the sakura tree as your sacred spot.

That's why it didn't make sense when your parents sat you down one evening, their expressions too careful, their words too gentle.

"We're moving," your mother said.

You blinked. "Where?"

Your father looked at his hands before saying the word like it might break something. "Hiroshima."

It felt like the floor dropped out from under you.

You told Tendou the next day. You didn't even make it past the school gates before the words came tumbling out.

He stared at you for a long time, blinking slowly like he hadn't heard you right. And then his expression shattered.

"Hiroshima?" he echoed. "That's... that's so far."

You nodded, eyes hot, throat tight.

"We're leaving in three weeks," you said. "End of the semester."

Tendou was quiet for a long time. The only sound was the wind tugging at the sakura petals above you.

And then, with a voice quieter than you'd ever heard from him, "So you're just gonna disappear?"

"Of course not," you said, grabbing his hands. "I'm not going anywhere. I mean, not really. We'll text, we'll call. I'll write letters. We'll stay best friends. Promise."

He didn't look convinced. But he nodded.

You spent those last weeks in a dreamlike haze. Everything felt like a countdown. You tried to act normal, but every time you looked at him, your chest tightened. Every time he laughed, you wondered if you'd forget the sound. You took pictures, wrote notes, and stayed out past curfew just to buy yourselves more time.

And then, the day came.

He stood in front of your house, hands balled into fists at his sides, lips pressed together like he was holding back a million words.

You ran into him for one last hug, burying your face in his shoulder as small sobs escaped you.

"Don't forget me," you whispered.

He squeezed you tighter. "Never."

The first few weeks apart, you both tried.

There were long texts, late-night calls, clumsy video chats that dropped every five minutes. You even mailed him a care package once, stuffed with snacks and a silly keychain that said "Don't Forget to Smile!" But time didn't stop. School got harder. Life got busier.

And slowly, like a song fading out, the calls came less often. The texts shorter. Sometimes you'd see something and think, "I have to tell Satori"— only to remember you hadn't heard from him in a week.

He never said he was upset. You never said you were hurting.

But both of you felt it.

The space grew wider, like an ocean slowly swallowing the bridge you'd built as children. You still kept the flower he gave you — your mother had dried it that same day, and now it lived between the pages of your favorite book, a quiet bookmark, a symbol of what had been.

And he, though you didn't know it, still had your friendship bracelet tied to the handle of his sports bag—even when it got frayed and faded.

Tendou threw himself into volleyball. He trained like a man possessed, driven by something he couldn't name. Maybe it was to prove himself to the world. Or maybe it was just to fill the silence you left behind.

You tried to move on too. Made friends. Focused on school. But every now and then, on quiet nights, you'd stare out the window and wonder what he was doing. If he still remembered the sakura tree. If he missed you like you missed him.

And even though neither of you said it out loud...

The truth was, it hurt. It hurt like hell.

— — — — —

Tokyo buzzed in a way no other city could.

It was loud and busy and constantly shifting — people everywhere, conversations, laughter, footsteps, trains rumbling in the distance. You'd been here for over a year now, and the city still managed to make you feel both anonymous and alive all at once.

You weren't expecting anything special that day. You were just walking across campus, heading to your afternoon seminar, coffee in hand, business notes tucked under your arm. Same as always.

But then you heard a voice — low, calm, just behind you.

"…Yeah, I've got class after this, but I wanna check out that chocolate place down the street first. Apparently it's legit."

You didn't mean to stop. But you did.

Because that voice…

Your heart skipped so hard it almost hurt. Carefully, cautiously, you turned, scanning the crowd.

And then you saw him.

He was much taller now. A bit leaner. His hair still wild and red, just a little more grown out, brushing past his ears. He wore a black hoodie half-zipped over a cooking apron, of all things. Standing beside him was someone else—broad shoulders, serious eyes—you recognized the face from TV. Ushijima Wakatoshi, Schweiden Adlers' star.

But none of that mattered.

Because your eyes were locked on him.

"…Satori?" you called, the name leaving your lips before you could think, hesitant but hopeful, like a question you were afraid to answer.

He froze.

His head whipped around. For a second, confusion clouded his features — and then it hit him. His eyes widened, red lashes fluttering, and he looked like the wind had been knocked clean out of him.

You gave a tentative smile. "It's me."

And then he was moving.

Not walking. Not stepping. Running.

Before you could react, he had you in his arms.

The coffee slipped from your fingers, long forgotten. You gasped softly as he wrapped you in the tightest, most desperate hug you'd ever felt — like he was trying to make up for all the years you were gone in one heartbeat.

You felt his shoulders shake. You weren't sure if he was laughing or crying.

"I missed you," he whispered into your hair, voice cracking.

You didn't hesitate. You hugged him back instantly, arms winding around his back like you were anchoring him to the earth.

"I missed you too," you breathed. "So much."

Neither of you let go for a long time.

When he finally pulled back, eyes glassy but glowing, he turned to the quiet figure beside him.

"Oh, uh—this is Ushijima," he said, rubbing his neck, a little breathless. "Toshi, this is… this is her."

Ushijima nodded politely. "You were childhood friends."

Satori gave a sharp exhale, a laugh caught somewhere in it. "Yeah. She's… more than that."

You blinked, heart stuttering.

He glanced at you with the softest smile, eyes full of everything that had gone unsaid for years. "She's my person."

You found a little shop tucked into a side street, the kind with mismatched chairs and warm lighting. You sat across from each other with tea and a slice of cake between you, and for the first time in years, you talked.

About everything.

He told you about Shiratorizawa, about volleyball, about how long it took to feel okay without you around. How he still played with that red string bracelet tied to his bag even when the color faded.

And then his voice got brighter, more alive.

He told you about culinary school — how he fell in love with pastry, how he wanted to become a chocolatier. "Paris," he said, eyes sparkling. "That's the dream. I want to study there. Work there. Maybe even open my own place someday. Just me and chocolate."

You smiled, warm and aching. "You always did want to make people happy with sweets."

"And you?" he asked. "What are you studying?"

You told him about business, about the long days and the goals you're chasing. About how you'd always wanted to run something of your own — maybe a café, a shop, something meaningful. You half-joked, "Maybe I'll manage your chocolate place one day."

But when you said it, he went still.

Then grinned — wide, hopeful, eyes shining.

"I'd like that," he said. "No… I'd love that."

That night, walking back through Tokyo's crowded streets, shoulder to shoulder with him again, you realized something.

The years apart hadn't erased anything.

He was still your Satori. And you were still his.

Like no time had passed. Like the universe had finally pulled the stars back into place.

The walk back was quiet in the best way.

The sky had melted into a dusky blue, city lights blinking to life one by one, painting everything in a soft, golden haze. You and Satori walked side by side down the narrow street, shoulders brushing now and then, your pace unhurried like neither of you really wanted the night to end.

You glanced over at him.

His hands were shoved into his hoodie pocket, but every so often, his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and hold yours but wasn't sure if he could yet. His red hair caught the glow of a nearby lamppost, and his eyes — those same bright eyes — were focused straight ahead, but his expression was unreadable.

"Satori?" you said softly.

He turned to you, blinking. "Hm?"

You hesitated for a beat, then smiled. "You got quiet."

He laughed, just a little. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just…" He exhaled, words slow and honest. "Trying not to get emotional again. I didn't think I'd ever see you like this. Just… randomly. In Tokyo. On a sidewalk."

"You always were dramatic," you teased, nudging his elbow.

"Excuse me, I'm a culinary artist now. We're passionate people."

You both laughed. The tension melted again.

When you reached your apartment building, you stopped outside the gate. It was quiet here, away from the rush of the main street. The silence wrapped around you like a familiar blanket.

Satori turned to face you fully. He looked down at you, expression gentler than you'd ever seen it. Like he was memorizing your face all over again.

"I meant it earlier," he said suddenly. "I want to see you again. Tomorrow. The next day. Every day if I can."

Your heart fluttered.

He stepped a little closer, voice lower now, vulnerable. "I've missed so much. I don't want to miss anything else."

You looked up at him, something warm blooming deep in your chest. "You won't. I'm here now."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, gaze flicking briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes.

For a second, you both just stood there — the kind of stillness that's heavy with almosts.

But he didn't kiss you. Not yet. Not tonight.

Instead, he smiled, eyes shining like stars.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, voice just a little unsure.

You nodded. "You better."

And then — finally — he reached out, slow and careful, and took your hand. Just a squeeze. Just enough.

He held it for a moment longer than necessary, then let go, turning away with one last look over his shoulder.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Satori."

And just like that, he walked into the night.

But this time, you weren't afraid of him disappearing.

Because this time, you knew he'd come back.

— — — — —

The sign on the door read "Fermé" in soft, handwritten script, the kind Tendou insisted on using because he said it "added character." The golden evening light filtered through the glass, casting warm hues across the wooden floors and glass displays, now empty after another busy day.

You wiped down the last counter, humming softly as Tendou stacked the final tray in the back kitchen. The rich scent of cocoa still lingered in the air — buttery ganache, caramel glaze, a hint of raspberry from the afternoon's specials.

The shop was quiet now, but it had been bustling earlier — tourists, locals, even a couple of food bloggers snapping pictures with heart-shaped truffles and sipping lavender hot chocolate. Another sold-out day. Another reminder that your little dream in the corner of Paris had grown into something real.

"Victory," Satori declared, stepping into the front again, apron dusted with cocoa powder and pride. "That couple from Lyon bought the entire pistachio shelf. I think I made them cry with the lemon ganache."

You smiled as he leaned across the counter and stole a kiss, still grinning like he couldn't believe this was his life. "You do have that effect."

He glanced at the clock. "Almost forgot. Wakatoshi said he might call tonight. Finally."

You raised your brows. "After you spammed him with 'miss u' memes for a week?"

"They worked, didn't they?" he said smugly, already pulling out his phone. "Alright, fingers crossed."

You leaned back against the counter as he tapped the screen, waiting for the video call to connect. A second later, Ushijima's face appeared, a bit grainy but unmistakably him, set against the clean backdrop of what looked like a hotel room.

"Tendou," he greeted calmly.

"Toshi!" Tendou chirped. "Finally gracing us with your majestic presence."

Ushijima nodded like he was taking the compliment seriously. "Training has been intense. I apologize for the delay."

"No worries," Tendou said, and then he tugged you gently into the frame. "We just closed up. Wanted to show you something."

Ushijima blinked. "The chocolate?"

Satori laughed. "Well, also that. But no — this."

He turned to you, eyes glittering, and lifted your left hand into view.

There it was — the ring.

Delicate, simple, gold band. But the stone… soft lavender-purple, small and luminous, like the petals of that flower he'd given you on the playground all those years ago. The same flower you'd kept between the pages of your favorite book. The one he never forgot.

Ushijima stared. "You're engaged?"

"We are," you said, smiling, heart so full it ached. "He asked me last week. At the Seine. With a chocolate truffle, obviously."

Satori beamed, practically vibrating. "She nearly ate the ring."

"I did not. I knew something was up when he offered dessert before dinner."

Ushijima nodded, something like warmth in his usually unreadable eyes. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, man," Satori said, a rare softness threading through his voice. "Means a lot."

Ushijima hesitated. Then, with the tiniest smile: "She's your person."

Satori's grin only widened. "Always has been."

You leaned into him, your head on his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to your temple without missing a beat.

The call ended not long after, and the two of you stood in the dim light of the shop, the city glowing just beyond the windows, soft laughter from the street floating in.

Tendou looked down at you, hands still gently holding yours.

"I meant it when I said I'd marry you one day," he whispered.

"I know," you said, smiling. "And now you're keeping that promise."

Outside, Paris sparkled.

Inside, love bloomed — not loudly, not rushed, but quietly. Like the scent of chocolate in the air, like the promise of something sweet, something certain.

Something forever.

Masterlist

#haikyuu #tendou satori fluff #tendou x reader #satori tendō #tendou satori x reader #satori tendou x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu time skip #tendou satori timeskip

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4unnyr0se · 1 year ago

Text

❥ study sesh | satoru gojo

warnings: college au!, fem reader, gojo is submissive lol, goldren retriever gojo, gojo isn't very smart but thats okay we love him, fingering, roughness, making out, hickeys, top! reader, geto is mentioned several times, couch sex, readers favorite kind of sushi is also my favorite kind, degrading, insecure reader, asphyxiation, mentions of vaping and drinking, mentions of marijuana use, protected sex, choso mentioned, geto is a bastard, doordash is expensive and i dont like that

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 4k

Gojo groaned at the email he was just sent, running his hands down his pale face in annoyance. He slammed his laptop closed and tossed his head back, groaning exasperatingly. Failing a required class, seriously? Out of all the things he could do at university this was by far the most cliche. So annoyingly cliche, like his entire college life was a very niche film. Rolling his azure blue eyes, Gojo opened his laptop to reread the email his professor sent him. His high-and-mighty professor had arranged a tutoring session with the only tutor for History of Japan 201. Lucky him.

“Dickhead,” Gojo mumbled, pushing himself out of his rolling chair. He quickly stretched and placed his laptop inside his backpack along with the mess of empty vapes and crumbled-up phone numbers that he swore he would text (he never did.) He checked out how he looked in the mirror, adjusting his v-neck collar and fluffing out his snow-white hair just a little bit. He may not have known who you were yet, but he’d be damned if he didn’t look fine at any given moment.

“Yo, I’m going out.” Gojo spoke to Geto, his suitmate. Geto took the joint out of his mouth and raised an eyebrow, offering the blunt to Gojo.

“Why? There are no parties happening tonight, at least not that I know of.” Geto asked, sitting up on the edge of his bed. Geto’s bed was significantly nicer than Gojo’s his sheets didn’t have any suspicious stains on them and they smelled like laundry.

“Fucking Professor Yaga is making me go to a tutoring session for my history class. Says if I don’t do it then my grade’ll be tanked.” Gojo sighed, running his hands through his hair as he leaned against the door to their apartment.

“Tanked? You mean your grade was good this time around?” Geto smirked, putting out the joint at the bottom of his shoe.

“If you count a 59% as good,” Gojo shrugged, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Oh, you’re fucked man.” Geto laughed, laying back down on his bed. “Good luck with the history nerd, you’ll need it.”

“Fuck off man,” Gojo punched Geto on the arm, eliciting a smug chuckle out of Geto’s throat. “I’ll be back when I’ll be back. If you’re bringing a girl over, text first. If I have to see your face covered in cum again I’ll vomit.”

“What, someone jealous?” Geto rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Whatever man, see you.” Gojo walked out of his apartment, walking down the steps in a hurry. “And get the fuck out of my room! You have your own!” He yelled up the stairs, knowing the chance of Geto hearing him was slim to none.

He put his headphones on, turning up the music to drown out his thoughts. What if you were fucking annoying, or shitty at teaching? How fucked would he be then? Even worse, what if you were too good at your job and Gojo’s grade skyrocketed? Would he be asked to become a tutor? No one fucking wants that, especially not him. Tutoring was for losers and virgins, and he certainly wasn’t any of those.

Gojo walked across campus with a spring in his gait, nodding to the girls who waved at him. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for girls (and occasionally the female professors) to get flustered when he walked past them. His classmate fainted one time he asked her for a pencil, but he thought she was probably faking it. It wasn’t a secret that Gojo was a known player on and off the campus, but why did the women he slept with have to exaggerate everything? It felt fake, artificial. Gojo liked his women to be lively, to be real.

Whatever, he didn’t need to think about that right now. Gojo approached the library, taking off his headphones and placing them over the curve of his neck. He sat down at a table near the back end where all the books were stored, slowly gathering dust. Hell, some of them haven’t been touched in decades. Maybe it was for a good reason.

“There you are! I looked everywhere.” His ears perked up at the sound of a feminine voice approaching him, his ocean eyes turning to get a look at you. You stood in front of him, clutching your messenger bag in your left hand and a pencil in the other. “You’re five minutes late, you know. Now we only have 55 minutes to go over the material instead of an hour, dummy.”

Gojo rolled his eyes and opened up his backpack, fishing aimlessly for a pencil and a sheet of paper. An empty puffbar fell out and landed on the carpeted floor, which made you raise an eyebrow. Gojo coughed and picked it up hastily, shoving it back inside his black hole of a book bag.

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a vape before,” He muttered, adjusting his posture.

“No, I have. I’m just surprised that you like that flavor. Blue raspberry ice is so basic.” You retort, sitting down across from him. Spreading out some papers from your messenger bag, you hand Gojo a highlighter and a pen, both in the color blue. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to highlight what’s important on the documents and write them down on the notebook paper. After that we’ll make flashcards from your notes and just do those until the hour is up, does that sound okay?” You looked at him, taking out your pen and paper to observe how he studied. You didn’t need to review the material, you knew it all by heart anyway. But if you were being completely honest with yourself, it was such a treat to have the academic fate of Satoru Gojo in your hands. Like a little bird trapped in a cage, except this bird was unironically stupid.

“I’d rather kill myself, but okay. Anything to pass this lame-ass lecture.” Gojo muttered in frustration, pulling the lecture documents forward. His eyes lightly skimmed over them, not absorbing much of the information anyway. He could just do this in his apartment, why did Professor Yaga feel the need to torture him with this useless tutoring session? Because his professor hated him, that’s why.

“Hey, don’t diss Japanese history. It’s fun sometimes if you forget about all the wars and whatever.” You softly giggled, curling a lock of your hair behind your ear. Gojo looked up from his highlighting to stare at you for a brief moment, the ghost of a smile touching his plump lips.

‘Cute,’ He thought to himself, turning his attention to the documents once more. He continued to sneak an occasional glance at you to gauge what kind of person you were. Were you a typical history nerd, or was this a persona you put on to protect yourself? Gojo always had a way of reading people, but you remained a mystery to him.

Gojo would groan in frustration frequently, covering it up with a hasty cough. Why couldn’t he read you, and why did he want to get to know you better? This has never happened before with him, not sure for quite a while.

“Uh, are you okay? You’ve been coughing the entire time, do you need to go home or something? I can always email Yaga and tell him you aren’t feeling the best.” You spoke, packing up your pen and papers neatly into your bag, a stark contrast to the way that Gojo’s bag could be considered a biohazard.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking real hard about the Heian period is all.” He smirked, covering up his hazy mind with quick wit.

“Mhm, I’m sure you were, princess.” You retorted, flashing a smug grin at him. “By the way, thanks for completely reinforcing the stereotype of a dumb frat guy. Keeps my image of your kind on track.”

“The fuck you mean by that?” Gojo asked defensively, getting up and throwing his bookbag over his shoulder. “Are you saying that all frat guys are stupid or something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, pretty boy.” You began to walk to the door, grinning to yourself as Gojo quickly caught up to you in just a few paces.

“You’re something else, girl.” He spoke, walking with you out of the library towards the university center. “I like that. Where are you going?” Gojo asked, following you like a lost puppy.

You rolled your eyes, stopping in your tracks. “To the university center. I want dinner.”

Gojo shook his head and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the path. “No way, I’m not letting my tutor get food poisoning from a shithole like that. I’ll order us something, okay?” He flashed his pearly whites at you, which you couldn’t help but admire. For such a disorganized slob he sure knew how to take care of his hygiene.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically, not minding how he wrapped his arm around you. Almost like Gojo wanted to protect you weirdly enough. “And why would you order me food? All I did was teach you about the Heian period, it wasn’t anything.” You babbled on in an ill attempt to make excuses.

“Just let me buy dinner for you, okay? We can go back to my apartment and study some more there, the library is suffocating me anyway.” Gojo whined, steering the both of you in the direction of his university apartment. It wasn’t a very long walk from the main campus, and yet he was almost always late to every single one of his classes this semester.

“Suffocating you with knowledge, perhaps. Is your brain seriously that small?”

“Maybe don’t diss the guy that’s paying for your dinner, sweetheart.” Gojo wiggled his thin eyebrows at you, walking up the flights of stairs to his apartment. “My roommate might still be home but don’t worry about him. Suguru is usually too stoned to notice anything.” He turned the key and let you both inside, kicking off his shoes onto the carpet beneath him.

You took off your shoes and placed them beside his own, sitting down on the living room sofa. Gojo had sauntered off somewhere, yelling for his suitmate. “Looks like he isn’t here, probably under a bridge or skating with Choso.” He placed his hands in his pockets and sat down a couple of feet beside you.

“So, what did you wanna order? Burgers, Chinese? Anything except soba, I fucking hate soba.” Gojo chuckled, pulling out his phone from his back pocket.

Thinking for a moment, you snapped your fingers together. “Sushi. I haven’t made decent sushi in forever.”

Gojo slowly nodded and opened up a popular food delivery app, hitting the little sashimi icon on the home screen. “A little expensive but okay. D’ya like rolls or sashimi or what?”

“Rolls, spicy. Salmon, if you can.” You told him your preferences, leaning down to take your laptop out of your messenger bag. “I’m making you a Quizlet so that my time here doesn’t feel completely pointless.” As you mumbled to yourself, a tiny little foil packet well out of the side pocket. You grabbed it quickly and shoved it in your front pocket, praying that Gojo didn’t notice.

“Foods ordered, it wasn’t cheap either. Not that I mind, I got plenty of cash to spare!” Gojo smiled, miming throwing money in the air.

You let the faintest smile touch your face, typing away at your laptop. “You’re like a puppy, you know. Like those white labs I see all the time.” You looked at him, admiring the way his messy white hair added to his devilishly handsome aura. “They’re pretty cute.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to you, almost teasing you with his proximity. “Are you saying that you think I’m cute, nerd?” He purred, sticking his tongue out.

You blushed and rolled your eyes, closing your laptop. “Maybe, so what if I did? I’m just your tutor. Yaga is giving me extra credit just by talking to you.” You mumbled, noticing that Gojo was still leaning closer to you.

“Well…I think you’re pretty cute too.” He grinned, a blush covering his stupidly adorable face.

Your fingers tensed up in your lap, your gaze locked onto the shag carpet beneath you. You wouldn’t dare look into his eyes, not now. They would only suck you into his sexy blue vortex and then before you knew it you would be on his lap, straddling his waist and making out with his neck.

“You think all girls are pretty, you’re a player for fucks sake.” Your voice was filled with scoff and denial, the tension between you two growing with each passing second. “My friend saw you shoving your tongue down a sorority girl's throat last night, did you think she was cute too?”

“Well, technically yeah but it’s only on the surface. She was attractive but she had no personality, unless you count downing vodka crans as a personality trait.” He pointed out, wrapping his arm around your shoulder once more. You two were pressed against each other, your arms limp at your sides. You had no idea what to do, should you touch him as well? Where would you touch him?

“So…you think my personality makes up for the fact that I don’t have a pretty face?” You sighed, your insecurities surrounding you like haunted spirits.

“No! No way, no.” Gojo assured you, cupping your cheeks with his hands. “I think you’re pretty and smart and funny and…I know I’ve only met you a couple hours ago but you’re really fucking sexy.”

You gulped as you felt his warm and large hands on your face, leaning into the touch slightly. Satoru Gojo called you sexy, his history tutor. He thought his history tutor was sexy. You smacked your glossed lips together, your noses touching. “How long until the sushi gets here?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Do you think we could fuck in that amount of time?” You boldly asked, staring into his gorgeous, enchanting blue eyes. You bit down on your bottom lip, your own eyes containing unspoken desires.

Gojo smirked and pulled you onto his lap, his hands resting on the swell of your hips. “Hell yeah, sweetheart.” He whispered, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was slow at first, your arms wrapped around his neck while his own hands trailed up and down your back, occasionally stopping to feel the round flesh of your ass.

Your tongue entered his mouth, doing battle with his wet muscles before exploring his cavern. Gojo groaned at the sensation of your tongues colliding, attempting to shift himself so he was on top.

You pulled away from the kiss and tutted at him, pushing his chest down so he was leaning against the leather texture of the couch. “No, pretty boy, I’m on top this time.” You spoke softly, your voice dripping with sexuality and confidence.

“This time, huh? You wanna see me again after this?” Gojo smirked, slapping your ass gently. “Someone sure got confident real quick.”

You shrugged and bit down on his bottom lip with your teeth, pulling away a second later. You saw how Gojo reacted to your dominance, how the breath left his lips the second you laid down the law. Your long nails dug into the black tank top he wore, your thumb slipping under the hem to feel his abs.

“You’re so fucking ripped, holy shit.” You breathed out, planting gentle kisses on his neck. You squeezed your legs shut, anxious to receive any friction that would make you feel amazing.

Gojo grinned, taking off his jacket along with his shirt and tossing it behind his head. “What about now, you still like what you see princess?” He chuckled, flexing his biceps to impress you.

“Oh shut up and finger me.” You smiled and rolled your eyes, slamming your lips against his once more. Your hand guided his under the hem of your sweatpants and underneath your panties, prodding them at your weeping entrance. “Fuck me with your fingers before I ride you, Satoru.”

“God, I love it when you tell me what to do.” He groaned, shoving your pants down to your kneecaps along with your panties. He put his fingers inside of his mouth, a popping sound leaving his lips as they were soaked in his spit. “Gotta make sure they don’t hurt you.” He teasingly ran them up your folds, inserting his middle and index finger inside of you slowly. Gojo thrust them up and down at a regular pace, not knowing if you liked it rough or gentle.

“S-shit, your fingers are so fucking long. Oh shit.” You moaned into his ear, slumping yourself against his muscular chest for support. His fingers continued to drill up and inside of you, observing how you convulsed around him if he fucked his fingers in and out of you at the speed of light.

“Yeah, you like that pretty girl? You like getting fucked by some dumb frat guy's fingers?” Gojo whispered into your ear, biting the shell harshly. You squealed in pleasure as you felt his thumb rub harsh circles on your clit. Fuck, he was so fucking good with his hands.

“Fucking love it, holy fuck!” You gasped, feeling your knees start to give way as your orgasm approached. Suddenly, you grabbed Gojo’s wrist and pulled it away from your pulsating core, your breath slow and shallow.

Gojo raised an eyebrow in confusion, his cock throbbing horribly in his boxers. “Was I too rough or something?” He asked, concerned about his performance.

You shook your head in assurance, kissing his forehead gently. “N-no, not at all. It’s just that…I wanna cum on your cock, not on your fingers.” You whispered, playing with the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Also…that erection looks pretty fucking painful. Are you gonna let me ride you or what?” You teased, thumbing with the hem.

Almost instantly Gojo’s sweatpants flew off his body, leaving him only in his very tight black boxers. Your hands tugged down on the hem, pulling the boxers down so only his cock and balls were exposed. He was huge, his mushroom tip was pink and he had a large pulsating vein wrapping around the shaft. “Fuck…do you have a condom?” You asked, wanting so badly to just slam yourself down and fuck him senseless.

“Y-yeah, in my bag over there.” Gojo pointed to his discarded backpack at the entrance of his apartment, secretly wishing it would just fly into his hand like Thor with his hammer.

You wobbled over to retrieve the condom, shuffling through old candy wrappers and empty vape pens. Finding it, you practically sprinted over to sit back down on Gojo’s lap. He took the condom from your hands and tore open the foil with his teeth, rolling the latex on with ease. “Fuck, I’ve never been this sensitive before. You’re a witch.” He breathed out, kissing you softly as you hovered yourself above his cock.

“Shh, just lemme fuck you. Alright, baby?” You purred, lowering yourself down onto his cock. You hissed as his thick mushroom head pushed past your entrance, the pleasure outweighing the pain tenfold. “F-fuck, you’re so fucking big.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, pretty girl.” Gojo chuckled, grabbing onto your hips. He pushed you down further onto his cock, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until he’d bottomed out.

You started to move yourself up and down on his cock, bouncing slowly to grow accustomed to his length and girth. You kissed him passionately, gripping his broad and muscular shoulders for support. “Ngh, fuck!” You cried onto his lips, placing his hands on your waist to guide you.

Gojo’s hands pulled you back and forth, up and down on his length until you got the hang of handling how big he was, your hands now groping your tits as you fucked yourself on his cock. The filthy sound of skin slapping and squishing against skin filled the apartment, the still and stiff air being replaced with the intoxicating aroma of sex and lust.

“God, just like that baby! Fuck, you’re so fucking good at riding this dick princess. Ride my dick, fuck, ride me! Fuck me!” Gojo cried out, resting his head on the cushions behind his naked body as your hips slammed onto his pelvic bone repeatedly, surely leaving bruises for him to wake up to tomorrow.

“You’re so fucking noisy.” You growled, wrapping your hands around his bruised throat. Not enough to stop him from breathing, just enough to let him know who was in charge.

Gojo whimpered as he felt your hands wrap around his throat, his cock twitching inside of you. He had no idea he liked it when he wasn’t in charge when he was being used like a fucktoy. Gojo fucking loved watching ride him, how your sobbing cunt took his cock so nice and so deep.

You tilted your head to the side and smiled darkly, moving even faster on his cock to the point where you were just bouncing on the abused appendage. “What, baby forgot how to use his words? Are you being fucked too good you can’t even speak, huh? Adorable little slut.” You whispered, your lew words making Gojo want to become yours even more.

“Oh, is somebody gonna fucking cum?” You mocked, pouting your lip. Your grip around his neck tightened as you continued to ride him, feeling your orgasm fast approaching. “Fucking cum for me baby, cum like the good little whore you are.”

“Fuck, I’m c-cumming! Fuck, ngh, fuck! Oh my God, fuck! Please” Gojo practically sobbed as his orgasm filled the rubber he wore, his grip on your hips not faltering. He could feel your cunt milk him for all he was worth, still bouncing on him with vigor. “P-please cum, please! Wan’ feel you on me, please!” He begged, his beautiful blue eyes swelling with tears.

You threw your head back as your orgasm finally hit you, pleasure coursing through every single possible vein in your body. “A-ah, shit! Fuck, fuck, oh my God!” You cried out, the bouncing on his cock slowing down as you rode out your high.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto Gojo’s sweaty chest, admiring how good he smelled even after sex. His arm wrapped around your soaked shirt, embracing you gently. “Fuck…that was the best sex I’ve had in a while.” He chuckled, kissing the side of your face.

“Oh yeah? We should do it again sometime after you do your homework of course.” You offered him a half-smirk, pulling yourself off of his now soften cock. You tied the condom and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket, pulling up your sweatpants and panties. “The sushi is probably here by now, should I go get it?”

“Oh fuck,” Gojo grabbed his phone and unlocked it, seeing the notification that the sushi had been delivered ten minutes ago. “Fuck me, we took thirty minutes! Guess you were wrong about timing there, hm?”

You rolled your eyes and opened the apartment door to be greeted by a smug-looking Geto holding your sushi. “I’ve been standing here for about five minutes, you guys are really fucking loud.” He chuckled, allowing himself inside.

“Really, Satoru? On the couch? I sit there sometimes, dude.” Geto placed a hand on his hip, handing you the boxed sushi.

Gojo rolled his eyes and walked over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He had put his pants back on but his abs were still very much on display.

“Fuck off, Suguru. Please.” Gojo mumbled, squeezing your waist. You smiled at the welcome touch, especially enjoying the banter the two of them shared.

“Seems like you already did, Satoru,” Geto smirked, walking off to his room.

“Fuck you, dickhead!”

#jjk smut #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jujutus kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut

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