#shift was over a little earlier so i sneaked in this and it felt GOOD i miss doodling!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 21 days ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy? pt.2

chapter summary: Things are back to normal at the X-Mansion, other than the new, permanent addition of Logan. But he's not here for anything other than you.

word count: 18.4k+ (total 36.6k+)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: here's part 2! (tags and summary are the same)

warnings/tags: fluff, reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, logan pining, soft!logan, slow burn (like... slow. burn.), one bed, brief sickness, brief insecurities, almost too much fluff holy sh-, reader has slight backstory, mention of twirling hair, brief injury

series masterlist - chapter 8 → chapter 9

The sound of rain pattering against the windows filled the room, the occasional roll of thunder causing the lights to flicker faintly. You glanced at Theresa, who was huddled close to the arm of the couch, clutching a stuffed rabbit in one hand and her cards in the other. Across from her, Jones was grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying the game despite the storm outside.

“Got any sevens?” Theresa asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Jones narrowed his eyes dramatically before sighing and handing over a card. “You’re lucky,” he muttered. “I was gonna use that to win.”

Theresa smiled faintly, her fear of the thunder momentarily forgotten. You couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride for how brave she was being—storms were hard for her, but she was hanging in there.

“You’re doing great, Theresa,” you said, offering her an encouraging smile. “And Jones, don’t think I didn’t see you sneak that card earlier.”

Jones’s eyes widened in mock offense. “I did not!”

You raised a brow, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Before Jones could come up with a witty retort, the door creaked open, and Logan stepped inside, shaking rainwater from his jacket. His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere, the kids sitting up a little straighter while you felt your chest tighten with a mix of nervousness and warmth.

“Storm’s pickin’ up out there,” Logan remarked, his eyes briefly scanning the room before landing on you. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Didn’t think I’d find you playin’ Go Fish, darlin’.”

You adjusted your glasses, trying to ignore the way his nickname made your heart skip. “Theresa didn’t want to be alone during the storm, so we’re keeping her company.”

Logan’s attention shifted to the young girl, his expression losing its usual gruffness. “Smart call, kiddo. Storms can be rough.”

Theresa nodded, clutching her rabbit tighter. “It’s really loud.”

Logan crouched down to her level, his tone unusually gentle. “Tell you what—next time it gets too loud, you just look at me. I’ll make sure it’s nothin’ to worry about.”

Theresa gave him a tentative smile, and you felt your chest ache at the sight. Logan had a way of being unexpectedly tender when it mattered, and it always caught you off guard.

“What about me?” Jones piped up, clearly fishing for the same attention. “Can I look at you if it gets too loud?”

Logan ruffled Jones’s hair with a scoff. “You? You’ll be fine, tough guy.”

Jones grinned, puffing out his chest like he’d just been handed a badge of honor.

“Wanna join us?” you asked, gesturing to the game. “We’re about to see who’s got the best poker face.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. “Not sure Go Fish is what they mean by a poker face, but sure.” He pulled up a chair, settling in beside you. His arm brushed yours briefly as he leaned forward, and you had to fight the urge to shift closer.

As the game resumed, you found yourself glancing at Logan more often than you intended. He was surprisingly good at keeping the kids engaged, his gruff teasing making them laugh despite the storm raging outside. Every so often, his eyes would meet yours, and the corners of his mouth would lift in a way that felt like it was meant just for you.

Eventually, the storm began to die down, the thunder growing more distant. Theresa yawned, her eyelids drooping as she leaned against your shoulder. Jones followed not long after, slumping into the armchair with his deck of cards scattered around him.

“Looks like they’re done for the night,” Logan murmured, his voice low enough that it felt intimate in the quiet room.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, brushing a strand of hair from Theresa’s face. “I’ll take her up to bed.”

“I’ll get Jones,” Logan said, standing and scooping the boy up effortlessly. He carried him with the ease of someone used to it, his movements careful not to wake him.

You followed Logan to the hallway, each of you heading to a different room to settle the kids in. When you returned to the common room, the storm had died down, leaving behind only the faint sound of quiet rain.

Logan was waiting for you by the couch, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You’re good with them,” he said, his tone quieter now.

You shrugged, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “They’re good kids. Just needed a distraction.”

His eyes lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Guess you’re good at that, too.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you settled for a small, grateful smile. Logan seemed content with that, his lips quirking into a faint grin before he gestured toward the door.

“C’mon. You’ve been cooped up all night. Let’s take a walk.”

Your eyes widened as you looked out the windows, the rain still drumming steadily against the glass. “It’s raining.”

Logan smirked, shrugging one shoulder as he leaned against the doorway. “You scared of a little water, sweetheart?”

You gave him a look, though the slight flush creeping up your neck betrayed your flustered reaction to his teasing. “I’m not scared. It’s just—what’s the point? We’ll get soaked.”

“That’s the idea,” Logan said, his grin widening. He pushed off the doorframe and gestured toward the hall. “Go grab a jacket. Fresh air’ll do you good.”

You hesitated, glancing back at the couch where you’d been sitting with the kids not long ago. The room was quiet now, and the remnants of the storm had left it feeling oddly still. Maybe he was right—a little walk might be nice. Plus, the way he was watching you, half-smirk and half-something else, made it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you relented, adjusting your glasses and heading for the hallway. “But if I catch a cold, it’s on you.”

Logan’s chuckle followed you. “Deal.”

---

The air outside was crisp and cool, the rain having softened to a misty drizzle that clung to your skin. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket, trying not to think about the way Logan’s pace matched yours so easily or how his presence seemed to chase away the lingering chill from the storm.

“You always this quiet?” he asked after a moment, his voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the leaves.

You glanced up at him, your glasses misting slightly in the damp air. “What do you mean?”

Logan tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “You’re always thinkin’, darlin’. Like your head’s miles away.”

You looked down, a little embarrassed. “I just… think a lot, I guess. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Didn’t say it was,” he replied, his voice softer now. “Just curious what’s got you so wrapped up.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “It’s nothing, really. Just… trying to make sense of everything, I guess.”

“Everything, huh?” Logan glanced at you, his sharp gaze lingering. “That’s a lot to figure out.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. “What about you? Do you ever think about… everything?”

Logan let out a low laugh, though there was something almost bitter behind it. “Not much point in it. Most of the time, everything’s just a mess.”

You stopped walking, turning to look at him fully. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

He met your gaze, his expression softening just slightly. “Used to,” he admitted. “Not so much anymore. Guess I’m just used to it.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your chest ache. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you reached out and brushed a raindrop off the sleeve of his jacket without thinking, the movement small but oddly intimate.

Logan’s eyes flicked to your hand, then back to your face. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You blinked, startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I don’t know what to do with you half the time,” he said, his tone low but not unkind. “You’re shy as hell, but you’ve got guts when it counts. Makes a guy wonder.”

“Wonder what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan didn’t answer right away, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than felt comfortable—and yet, you didn’t want to look away. Finally, he shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I’ll figure that out.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you quickly looked down, pretending to adjust your glasses. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

The two of you continued walking in silence, the quiet between you feeling less like an absence and more like an unspoken understanding. Every so often, your arm would brush his, and while you told yourself it was just the narrow path, a small part of you wondered if Logan wasn’t making the space smaller on purpose.

By the time you circled back toward the mansion, the rain had stopped entirely, leaving the air smelling fresh and clean. Logan held the door open for you without a word, and you stepped inside, your cheeks still warm from the walk.

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing back at him.

Logan gave you one of his faint, lopsided grins. “Anytime, darlin’.”

As you headed down the hallway toward your room, you couldn’t help but wonder if he meant it. Something told you he did.

---

“Just as in the kinetic theory of gases, it is not merely the average effect of a large number of atoms that comes into consideration in the electromagnetic interpretation of optical phenomena. Thus, in the scattering of light the random distribution of the atoms makes the effects of the individual atoms appear in such a way that a direct counting of the atoms is possible. In fact, Rayleigh estimated from the intensity of the scattered blue light of the sky the number of atoms in the atmosphere, obtaining results in satisfactory agreement with the counting of atoms obtained by Perrin from a study of the Brownian motion. The rational mathematical representation of the electromagnetic theory is based on the application of vector analysis- ”

Hands gripped your shoulders and startled you, making you look up from your book.

“What’ve I told you about walkin’ and not payin’ attention?” he asked, his voice tinged with both amusement and exasperation. His eyes flicked down to the book in your hands.

Caught off guard, you stammered, “I wasn’t—I mean, I was paying attention. Just… not to where I was walking.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re supposed to be at dinner, not wanderin’ the halls like some kinda ghost.”

“You aren’t there either,” you pointed out, your cheeks warming as you adjusted your glasses.

“Touché,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting. “What’s got you so wrapped up you skipped eatin’?”

“It’s a book by Niels Bohr,” you said, holding up the slim volume. “Atomic Theory and the Description of Nature. I got caught up in the section on the kinetic theory of gases and the Rayleigh scattering of light.”

Logan gave you a look that was part curiosity, part bewilderment. “You realize most folks wouldn’t understand a word of what you just said, right?”

You smiled sheepishly. “It’s not that complicated once you break it down.”

“Go ahead,” he said, his tone turning softer. “Break it down for me.”

You hesitated, unsure if he was serious, but the genuine interest in his eyes convinced you to start. As you explained the connection between the scattering of light, the composition of the atmosphere, and how Bohr linked it to atomic theory, Logan listened intently at first, nodding occasionally.

But as your excitement grew, so did the gloss of your lips, drawing his attention. The soft sheen shifted as you spoke, catching the light in a way that teased at his focus. Logan’s thoughts started to drift. Cherry or strawberry? He’d caught faint hints of sweetness before when you were close, but he’d never been able to place it.

As you continued talking, your voice animated, your shy demeanor falling away in the face of your enthusiasm, Logan’s restraint finally snapped. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed you, cutting you off mid-sentence.

The kiss was firm, heady, and left no room for doubt about what he’d been holding back. His hand cradled the side of your face, the other sliding to your waist as if anchoring you to the moment. Your book slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a soft thud, but neither of you noticed.

When Logan finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he muttered against your lips, his voice gravelly and low, “fuck, it’s cherry.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. “W-what?”

“Your lip gloss,” he clarified, his tone almost amused but still rough with lingering desire. “Been drivin’ me mad for months.”

Your face burned as you tried to process his words, your lips still tingling. “You— I—”

Logan smirked, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Guess I should’ve asked sooner.”

You blinked at him, flustered beyond words, but the warmth in his gaze settled something deep inside you. He straightened, his hand lingering at your waist before reluctantly stepping back.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he said, his smirk softening into something gentler. “Let’s get you to dinner before I forget how to behave.”

Still dazed, you bent down to retrieve your book, but your fingers brushed his as he’d bent to grab it too. You both froze for a moment before he chuckled softly, handing it back to you.

“Careful with that,” he teased. “Can’t have you losin’ Bohr to my bad manners.”

You managed a shy smile, clutching the book to your chest as you walked beside him toward the dining hall. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your lips from curving up every time you caught him glancing your way.

---

For a day or two after the kiss, you found yourself unconsciously avoiding Logan. It wasn’t that you regretted what had happened—far from it. If anything, the memory of his lips on yours lingered like the faint taste of cherries that always lay on your lips, setting your heart racing every time you replayed the moment.

But that was exactly the problem. It had caught you so off-guard, had unraveled you so completely, that you didn’t know how to face him without your cheeks burning or your words tangling into incoherence.

Logan, for his part, seemed to respect the space you were giving yourself. He didn’t corner you in the hallways or push for your attention like he might’ve done with someone else. Instead, he found quieter ways to remind you he was still there.

On the first morning after the kiss, when you arrived at your desk in the mansion’s small but cozy library, you noticed a steaming mug of tea waiting for you. The ceramic was warm beneath your fingers, the faint scent of chamomile and honey wafting up. A note rested beside it, the words scrawled in Logan’s rough handwriting:

Didn’t see you at breakfast. Figured you could use this.

You smiled despite yourself, fingers brushing over the paper before tucking it into the corner of your notebook. That same morning, during a meeting with the team, Logan casually pulled out the chair beside him before you could sit, earning a teasing look from Jean.

“You’re being awfully polite today,” Jean remarked, her tone light but curious.

Logan grunted nonchalantly, leaning back in his seat. “Just tryin’ to set an example for the kids.”

Jean’s eyes flickered between the two of you, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say more, but she held back. You busied yourself by adjusting your glasses, thankful for the distraction when Scott started talking.

But even as Logan kept his distance, his presence was everywhere. When you left your jacket in the lounge, it somehow reappeared on the back of your chair in the lecture hall. A book you’d misplaced turned up on your desk with no explanation. Small gestures, easily overlooked by anyone else, but each one sent your heart into overdrive.

---

It wasn’t until the third day after the kiss that Logan finally had enough. You’d been walking back to your quarters after finishing a late tutoring session with Rogue and Bobby when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him.

“Whoa there, sweetheart,” he said, his hands steadying your arms before you could step back. “You been dodgin’ me, or am I imaginin’ things?”

The warmth of his touch seeped through your sleeves, and you cursed the way your pulse quickened. “I—I haven’t been dodging you,” you lied, adjusting your glasses to avoid his gaze.

Logan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your answer. “Right. And I’m Cyclops’ biggest fan.” His voice softened, the gruffness easing. “C’mon, darlin’. Talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching against the strap of your bag. “I just... I needed time to think.”

“To think about what?” His tone wasn’t demanding, just curious, almost gentle.

“About what happened,” you admitted, finally meeting his gaze. “It caught me off-guard, Logan. I didn’t know what to say, and I guess I panicked.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face before he nodded. “Fair enough. I’m not exactly known for takin’ it slow. If I pushed too hard—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice firmer than you expected. “You didn’t. It’s just... no one’s ever done that before. And I—”

You stopped yourself, biting your lip as you searched for the right words. Logan’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then flicked back up to your eyes, his expression softening further.

Logan’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his voice soft but insistent. “And you?”

Your fingers tightened on the strap of your bag as you glanced at him. The hallway felt quieter than it should, the usual distant chatter and footsteps replaced by the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. Logan’s expression was open, patient in a way that left you unsure if you wanted to explain or simply step closer.

“And I…” You faltered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what to do after.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. His thumb brushed your sleeve, a barely-there gesture, but it steadied you somehow. “That all?” he asked, his tone calm but his eyes sharp, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

You nodded, your gaze dropping to his chest. “I’m not used to— I mean, no one’s ever—” You cut yourself off, frustrated at your inability to form a complete sentence.

“No one’s ever kissed you?” he guessed, his voice tinged with surprise. His brow furrowed slightly, but there was no mockery, only quiet curiosity.

“No!” you blurted out, mortified. “I mean, not like that. Not…” You hesitated, then sighed. “Not like it mattered.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his eyes softening. “It mattered, sweetheart.” The words were simple, but they carried enough weight to make your breath catch.

You looked up at him then, and for the first time, you didn’t try to hide the uncertainty in your eyes. “I don’t know how to… do this,” you admitted softly.

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm. “Ain’t a test, Y/N. You don’t gotta have it all figured out.”

The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. You took a slow breath, summoning a flicker of courage from somewhere deep within you. “What about you?” you asked, your voice trembling but steady enough. “What does it mean to you?”

His hand slipped from your arm, brushing down to linger at your wrist. His thumb grazed your pulse, and he seemed to take a moment before answering. “Means I finally stopped holdin’ back,” he said, his voice rough but honest. “Been tryin’ to stay outta your way, let you figure me out on your own. But that night…” His jaw tightened for a moment before he continued. “You were talkin’ about light scatterin’ and atoms, and all I could think about was how bad I wanted to kiss you. So I did.”

The admission left you stunned. You stared at him, searching his face for any trace of hesitation, but there was none. Only the raw honesty that seemed to define him.

“I should’ve asked first,” Logan added, his tone quieter. “But I ain’t sorry I did it.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, the tension easing slightly. “I don’t think I would’ve known how to answer if you had.”

“That so?” His lips quirked into a small smirk. “How about now?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, but you couldn’t look away from him. Instead of answering, you took a step closer, closing the already small gap between you. His hand didn’t leave your wrist, and you felt the slight increase in his grip as you hesitated, your gaze dropping to his lips.

Then, before you could lose your nerve, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. It was softer than you expected, tentative and shy, but Logan didn’t let it stay that way for long. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss just enough to coax a response from you. His free hand slid to the small of your back, steadying you as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

When you pulled back, breathless and flushed, Logan didn’t let you go. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the faint curve of his smile.

“Guess that answers that,” he murmured, his voice teasing but warm.

You managed a faint laugh, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

Logan’s hand lingered on your back, his thumb tracing slow circles that made your skin tingle. “You still plannin’ on avoidin’ me, or can we put that behind us?”

You bit your lip, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your face. “I think we can put it behind us.”

“Good,” he said, his tone firm. “’Cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’.”

The words settled something deep within you, their certainty grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. Logan stepped back just enough to let you regain your balance, though his hand stayed at your waist.

“Now,” he said, his smirk returning. “How ‘bout we grab somethin’ to eat before you start recitin’ atomic theory again?”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. “Deal.”

As the two of you walked down the hall, side by side, Logan’s hand brushed yours, lingering for a moment before he finally laced his fingers through yours. It was such a simple gesture, yet it left your heart racing all over again. You didn’t let go.

---

“Outta the way, Scott,” you said, nudging him aside gently with your hip as you crouched down in front of Jean’s desk. He was halfway through wrestling with the stubborn drawer, tools scattered around his feet, his expression somewhere between frustrated and determined.

Scott glanced up, one eyebrow arching over the rim of his ruby-quartz glasses. “Oh, so now you’re a carpenter?”

“Not a carpenter,” you replied, pulling your gloves tighter, “just someone who knows a lost cause when I see one.” You gave the desk a quick once-over before prying at the stuck drawer with careful precision. “You’ve been at this for how long?”

Scott grumbled something under his breath but moved aside, folding his arms. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“You’re right. It’s worse.” Your lips quirked in a faint smile as you reached into the drawer, feeling for the jammed mechanism. “Jean asked me to look at it, didn’t she?”

“She mentioned it,” Scott said, emphasizing the word. “I didn’t think it required a second opinion.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve got a knack for fixing things that don’t want to be fixed,” you teased lightly, sending him a sidelong glance. The moment hung between you for a beat before the sound of heavy footsteps announced Logan’s approach.

“What’s this?” Logan’s gruff voice cut through the room as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. His dark eyes flicked to you, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t know desk repair was part of the X-Men training program.”

“It’s not,” Scott said dryly, shooting Logan a sharp look. “What do you want, Logan?”

Logan didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on you, crouched by the desk, your sleeves pushed up and your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. He sauntered in, ignoring Scott entirely, and crouched down beside you.

“You need a hand, sweetheart?” Logan’s voice was quieter now, his attention focused entirely on you.

Scott made a noise of protest. “I’m right here—”

“Yeah, yeah, I see you,” Logan muttered dismissively before leaning closer. “What’s the issue?”

You tried to ignore the way his presence seemed to command the space, the warmth radiating from him even though he wasn’t touching you. “The drawer’s stuck. I think the rail might be bent.”

Logan reached past you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “Let me take a look.”

“I’ve got it,” you said quickly, more out of reflex than anything else.

Logan just gave you that amused, slightly exasperated look of his, the one that somehow managed to make you feel like you were the only person in the room who mattered. “Humor me.”

You huffed but shifted slightly, letting him inspect the drawer. His hands, calloused and sure, worked the mechanism with ease, and within seconds, there was a soft click. The drawer slid open smoothly.

“Fixed,” Logan said, sitting back on his heels and flashing you a smirk. “Told ya.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Thanks.”

Scott cleared his throat, his irritation palpable. “Are you done?”

Logan didn’t even glance at him, his attention still on you as he stood, offering you a hand to help you up. “Looks like I am,” he said, his tone nonchalant, but his smirk betrayed him.

You took his hand, standing and brushing off your knees before looking at Scott. “The drawer’s fixed, so you’re welcome.”

Scott muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch, but Logan chuckled as if he had. “Don’t strain yourself with gratitude, Summers,” he quipped, stepping closer to you.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile as you nudged Logan’s arm lightly. “Stop antagonizing him.”

“What? I’m just helpin’,” Logan said, his tone all faux innocence.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly done with the both of you. “Thanks for fixing the drawer,” he said, pointedly not looking at Logan.

“Anytime,” you replied, flashing a quick smile before grabbing your bag from the floor. Logan was already holding the door open for you, his stance casual but his eyes watching you closely.

As you stepped past him, you murmured, “you’re impossible, you know that?”

Logan’s smirk widened, and he leaned in slightly, his voice low. “You love it, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks heated, but you didn’t deny it, focusing instead on walking down the hallway with Logan falling into step beside you.

“Why do you always have to get under his skin?” you asked, glancing at him.

“’Cause it’s easy,” he replied with a shrug, his hand brushing yours as you walked. “And it’s fun.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re going to push him too far one day.”

“Nah,” Logan said, his tone confident. “He’s all bark, no bite. Kinda like a Chihuahua in red shades.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah, but you’re laughin’,” he pointed out, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You bit your lip to stop the smile spreading across your face, but Logan noticed anyway. His hand brushed yours again, this time lingering, and you hesitated for only a moment before lacing your fingers through his.

“Thought you didn’t like public displays,” Logan teased gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You gave him a sidelong glance, your voice soft but steady. “Maybe I’m getting used to it.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something warmer as he squeezed your hand. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on keepin’ my distance.”

The ease of his words, the certainty in them, settled over you like a blanket. You weren’t sure when exactly things had shifted between the two of you, but you weren’t complaining.

---

Later that evening, you were sitting in the mansion’s kitchen, a mug of tea cradled in your hands, when Jean walked in. She looked tired, but her smile brightened when she saw you.

“Burning the midnight oil?” she asked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring herself some water.

“Not tonight,” you replied, taking a sip of your tea. “Just needed to unwind for a bit.”

Jean leaned against the counter, studying you for a moment. “You seem… lighter lately,” she said, her tone curious but kind.

You felt a blush creeping up your neck but tried to play it off. “Do I?”

Jean’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “You do. And Logan seems—well, let’s just say he’s been a lot less grumpy.”

Your grip on the mug tightened slightly, but you kept your expression neutral. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Jean hummed, taking a sip of her water. “Whatever’s going on, it suits you.”

You glanced at her, searching for any hint of teasing, but her smile was genuine. “Thanks, Jean.”

She nodded, setting her glass down. “Anytime. Just don’t let him get too cocky, okay? He’s insufferable enough as it is.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound light and easy. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jean gave you a playful wink before heading back out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the quiet warmth blooming in your chest.

---

You hummed to yourself as you finished folding your clothes in the laundry room, the gentle rhythm of the task giving your mind a rare moment of quiet. The warm scent of freshly dried fabric lingered in the air as you placed the last neatly folded shirt in the basket.

Just as you reached for the basket, Logan appeared in the doorway. He leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Didn’t peg you for a laundry hummer,” he teased.

You glanced over your shoulder, a shy smile forming. “It’s either that or risk falling asleep mid-task.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he pushed off the doorframe and walked over. Without a word, he grabbed the basket from the counter.

“I’ve got it,” you protested, reaching for the basket. “It’s not heavy.”

Logan arched a brow. “Didn’t say it was. But why carry it when I’m right here?”

You sighed, not entirely annoyed but still a little flustered. “You know, I can handle a laundry basket, Logan.”

“Never said you couldn’t, darlin’.” His voice softened as he tilted his head to look at you. “But you don’t have to. Not when I’m around.”

Your stomach did a little flip at the way he said it—easy, matter-of-fact, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was, at least with him.

He carried the basket out into the hall, and you trailed after him, not sure whether to keep arguing or just accept it. You opted for the latter, though you did mutter, “you’re something else.”

Logan smirked again but didn’t respond, his focus on navigating the hallway with the basket balanced easily in one hand. When you reached your room, he set it down just inside the door and turned back to you.

“Anythin’ else you need carried?” he asked, the teasing lilt back in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “I’ll let you know when I need a bodyguard for my groceries.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something warmer, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than usual. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly busied yourself with the basket, pulling out the first stack of clothes to put away. Logan didn’t move to leave, though. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an expression that was almost... content.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Nothing.” He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a small, private smile. “Just like watchin’ you.”

Your face grew warm, and you ducked your head, focusing on shoving your socks into a drawer. “You’re weird.”

He chuckled, low and deep, before pushing off the frame. “Maybe. But you like it.”

You didn’t respond—mostly because he wasn’t wrong—and Logan seemed satisfied with your silence. With a nod, he stepped out of the room, leaving you alone with the faint trace of his laughter still lingering in the air.

And the unmistakable feeling that you’d never get used to the way he made your heart race.

---

You flipped the page of your notes, underlining a key point to emphasize in tomorrow’s class. Logan sat on your bed, supposedly reading a book, though you doubted he’d turned a page in the last fifteen minutes. He was too quiet, and you could feel his gaze flick to you every so often.

“Something on your mind?” you asked without looking up, your pen tapping against the margin of your paper.

“Nah,” Logan drawled, though the corner of his mouth lifted. “Just wonderin’ how long you plan on workin’. Feels like you’ve been at it all night.”

You glanced at the clock on your desk. “It’s barely nine.”

“Still too late for work.” He set the book down—one you were now convinced he wasn’t reading—and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Y’know, you don’t have to keep yourself buried in this stuff.”

“It’s not like I’m overworking,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I’m just... organized.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, and you could feel his gaze softening. “Yeah, you’re somethin’ alright.”

You were about to make a quip back when he nodded toward your desk. “Why’s your room so... empty?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

He gestured vaguely around. “I mean, there’s barely anything in here. No pictures, no knick-knacks. Hell, even my room’s got more personality.”

You set your pen down, glancing around the room as if seeing it through his eyes for the first time. He wasn’t wrong. Your walls were bare save for a single calendar, your shelves held only books and a lamp, and your desk was as spartan as a professor’s office.

“I guess I’m just used to it,” you said quietly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

Logan sat up fully, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied you. “Used to what?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the corner of your notebook. “Not having much. Growing up, my parents didn’t really... care to keep me around. My grandmother raised me, and she did her best, but we didn’t have a lot. I guess I never got used to decorating or buying stuff just because I wanted it.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, a shadow crossing his face. “Your folks didn’t want you?”

You shrugged, trying to make it seem like it didn’t bother you as much as it used to. “They had their own lives. Grandma was amazing, though. She always made sure I had what I needed. It just... wasn’t a lot.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw working as he processed what you’d said. Finally, he leaned back, his voice softer than you’d expected. “Sounds like she was a hell of a woman.”

“She was,” you agreed, smiling faintly. “She passed away when I was eighteen, but I owe her everything.”

Logan nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he spoke again. “You ever think about makin’ this place feel more like home?”

You blinked at him. “I don’t even know where I’d start.”

“Start with somethin’ small,” he suggested, his tone almost casual, but there was something deliberate in the way he spoke. “Picture frame, maybe. Couple of knick-knacks. I don’t know—whatever makes you feel good.”

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. “Why do you care if my room’s decorated?”

“‘Cause it’s yours,” he said simply. “And you deserve to have a place that feels like it.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you had to look away, suddenly feeling shy. “I’ll... think about it.”

Logan leaned back again, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar smirk. “Good. And if you need help, you know where to find me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just looking for an excuse to boss me around.”

“Damn right,” he replied, the teasing glint in his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

As you returned to your notes, Logan picked up his book again, but this time, he actually started reading. Still, every so often, you caught him glancing your way, that same soft look on his face.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself wonder what it might be like to make a place feel like home—with someone like him in it.

---

You, Logan, and Ororo were tasked with this month’s grocery shopping. Ororo tasked herself with picking out the fruits and vegetables, saying something about ‘not being confident in Logan’s abilities.’

You grabbed a few large boxes of rice while Logan pushed the half-full cart. You marked off ‘rice’ on your list as Logan turned the corner into the next aisle. As he walked ahead, you paused for a moment, your attention caught by a display in the bedding section. A soft white throw blanket was folded neatly on the shelf, its texture inviting. You reached out, brushing your fingers across it briefly before shaking your head and hurrying to catch up with Logan.

By the time you rounded the corner, Logan was already halfway down the aisle, scanning the shelves with casual disinterest. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard you approaching. “What took you so long, sweetheart? You get lost?”

“Just got distracted,” you said, tucking the list back into your pocket.

His brow quirked slightly, and you knew he was about to say something teasing. Instead, he just gave you a small, knowing smile. “Figured as much. Ready to finish this up?”

You nodded, taking hold of the cart’s edge and steering it toward the canned goods. The rest of the trip passed in a comfortable rhythm—Ororo rejoined you both occasionally, dropping things into the cart with precision while Logan grumbled about the increasing load. You couldn’t help but smile as the two bickered lightly over produce, Logan insisting that his choices were ‘perfectly fine’ while Ororo shot him unimpressed looks.

When the shopping was done, you found yourself back in the parking lot, helping load bags into the van. Logan insisted on carrying most of the heavier ones despite your protests.

“You don’t need to play the hero every time we carry groceries,” you pointed out, balancing a bag filled with bread and snacks.

Logan smirked, slinging another bag over his shoulder. “Ain’t about bein’ a hero. Just don’t trust you not to drop the eggs.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he quipped, brushing past you to load the last of the bags. His voice was light, but there was something softer in the way he glanced back at you.

Ororo stepped in before you could reply, clapping her hands together. “Alright, let’s get back. I have a feeling the kids have already raided the pantry while we were gone.”

The drive back to the mansion was quiet, the evening sun casting long shadows across the road. Logan sat in the passenger seat, his arm resting on the open window. Occasionally, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection. You tried not to think too much about the way your heart skipped when you met his gaze.

When you pulled into the driveway and began unloading, Logan’s pace slowed near the back of the van. As Ororo carried a few bags toward the mansion, Logan reached into the trunk and pulled something out, holding it behind his back.

“What’s that?” you asked, stepping closer.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothin’.”

You arched a brow, suspicion creeping in. “Logan…”

With a small smirk, he revealed the soft white throw blanket you’d admired earlier in the store. Your mouth opened in surprise, words failing you for a moment.

“You were lookin’ at it,” he said, his voice gruff but quiet. “Figured you might like it.”

Your cheeks burned, and you fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t say I had to.” He held it out to you, his expression softer than usual. “Just thought it’d be nice to have. That’s all.”

You took the blanket from him, your fingers brushing his briefly. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, but the warmth spreading through your chest was undeniable. “Thank you,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, as you leaned up and kissed the corner of his lips.

Logan blinked, clearly caught off guard, but his lips quirked into a soft smirk as you stepped back. “That’s all I get?” he teased, voice low. “A quick peck for goin’ outta my way like that?”

Your face warmed, but you mustered a little courage, shrugging. “Well, you didn’t have to get it.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to,” he countered, his tone somewhere between gruff and teasing. He stepped closer, the corner of the van offering a bit of privacy. His hand brushed your arm, thumb skimming just below your sleeve. “That blanket looked like it had your name written all over it. Figured it’d be a crime not to grab it.”

You ducked your head, your shyness bubbling to the surface, but you couldn’t fight the smile creeping across your lips. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

“Nah.” He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Just enough, I’d say.”

Before you could respond, Ororo’s voice cut through the moment. “Logan! Y/N! Are you two planning to move in back there, or are you going to help me with the rest of these bags?”

Logan straightened, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Guess we’re holdin’ up the whole operation.”

You laughed softly, hugging the blanket to your chest. “Come on, hero. You’ve got groceries to save.”

He smirked at that, grabbing another bag as the two of you made your way toward the mansion. The rest of the evening passed in the usual controlled chaos—students helping unload the van, food being sorted and tucked away, and Logan grumbling about the “damn kids” taking the snacks before they’d even been put away.

Later that night, after dinner and a quiet stretch of grading papers, you found yourself curled up on the couch in the common room. The new blanket was draped over your lap, its soft fabric warm against your skin as you flipped through a physics journal. You didn’t hear Logan enter until the couch dipped slightly beside you.

“Comfortable?” he asked, nodding toward the blanket.

You glanced up, pushing your glasses higher on your nose. “Very. I think you made a good choice.”

“Damn right I did,” he said, leaning back and stretching an arm along the back of the couch. “You looked like a kid in a candy store when you saw it.”

You chuckled, setting the journal aside. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

He snorted, his lips twitching. “Darlin’, I notice a lot more than you think.”

There was something in his tone—a quiet sincerity that made your stomach flutter. You didn’t look away this time, meeting his gaze and finding that familiar intensity there. It was the same look he gave you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the one that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“What?” you asked softly, unable to help the small smile tugging at your lips.

Logan shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into that signature smirk. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ about how much trouble you are.”

You laughed, leaning against his side. “Pretty sure you’re the one who’s trouble.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice rumbling low as he shifted to drape an arm around your shoulders. “But you don’t seem to mind too much.”

And you didn’t. Not one bit.

---

You had vaguely realized you slipped on one of Logan’s flannels he left in your room, only because it was a little chilly tonight, and your robe was too thick.

You grabbed a lighter and lit one of your candles, one Jean saw you eyeing in the mall when you went out with her a few days ago. And instead of brushing it off like usual, you bought it. The scent was simply ‘blueberries’, but it reminded you of when your grandma made blueberry pancakes on your birthday or special occasions.

Sitting down at your desk, you pulled out your pen and started sorting through the extra credit assignments your students had turned in earlier. You weren’t a workaholic, but you liked to stay organized, and with a quiet evening ahead, it was as good a time as any to get ahead. The soft scent of the blueberry candle filled the room, its glow casting a warm light on the pages. Logan’s flannel draped over your frame was cozy, slightly oversized, and it carried the faintest trace of his scent—woodsmoke and something clean, distinctly him.

You flipped through the first assignment, marking a few notes in the margins. Just as you settled into a rhythm, there was a knock at your door, quick and familiar. Before you could call out, it creaked open, and Logan leaned against the doorframe, his usual smirk in place.

“Figured you’d still be workin’,” he said, his voice low but warm.

You glanced up, adjusting your glasses. “Just finishing up a few things. What’s up?”

He stepped inside, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Not much. Kids’re finally crashin’ for the night. Thought I’d check on you. See if you were gonna hole up in here all night.”

You smiled faintly, gesturing to the pile of papers. “Not all night. Just trying to get these done so I’m not scrambling tomorrow.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the candle, then to the flannel you were wearing. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That my shirt?”

You blinked, looking down as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh. Yeah, sorry—I was cold, and it was just… there.” You grabbed the placket of his flannel and began to slip it off before Logan walked over, placing his hands over yours.

“Who said I wanted ya to take it off?”

His hands rested over yours, warm and firm, halting your motion. For a second, the room seemed still, the faint crackle of the candlewick the only sound breaking the quiet. Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you swallowed, suddenly unsure what to do with yourself.

“I just—” you started, only for Logan to cut you off with a soft smirk.

“Relax, sweetheart. Looks good on ya.” His voice was low, rough in that familiar way that always seemed to settle something restless in you.

You felt your grip loosen on the fabric, your fingers brushing lightly against his as you let the flannel fall back into place. “It’s just… comfortable,” you admitted softly, tugging the hem slightly as though to make a point.

“Damn right it is,” Logan said, stepping back but keeping his eyes on you. “Figured it would be, seein’ as it’s mine.”

You bit back a smile, leaning slightly against your desk. “You’re not gonna make me give it back, are you?”

He snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Not a chance. Looks better on you anyway.”

The compliment hung in the air, unspoken but clear in his tone. Your lips twitched upward, the shyness that usually crept in around Logan giving way to a bit of playfulness.

“Careful,” you teased lightly, “if you keep talking like that, I might think you actually like me or something.”

His brows rose, and the smirk widened just enough to send a flicker of warmth through your chest. “Oh, darlin’, you already know I do.”

There was no teasing in his voice this time, and the sudden weight of his words made your breath catch. You glanced down, fiddling with the corner of a paper on your desk, not quite able to meet his gaze.

“I like you too,” you said quietly, the words simple but sincere.

Logan straightened slightly, his arms dropping to his sides as he closed the small gap between you. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached out, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than usual.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I know.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, but before you could say anything else, Logan’s hand dropped to his side, and he nodded toward the pile of papers on your desk. “You finishin’ those tonight?”

You glanced at the stack, then back at him. “I was planning to, but…” You hesitated, gauging his expression. “Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

Logan grinned, a flash of teeth that was more mischievous than intimidating. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to take a break. Couch downstairs is lookin’ real empty without you on it.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. “Tempting offer. Let me just finish a couple more, and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Deal.” He turned, heading for the door, but paused in the frame, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t keep me waitin’ too long, darlin’. That blanket of yours isn’t gonna hog itself.”

Your smile lingered long after he disappeared down the hall.

When you finally made it to the common room, Logan was sprawled on the couch, the remote in one hand and a half-empty bottle of beer in the other. He glanced up when he heard you enter, his expression softening as he took you in—glasses perched on your nose, his flannel still hanging loosely around you, the white throw blanket tucked under your arm.

“’Bout time,” he said, shifting to make room for you. “Thought you’d fallen asleep on me up there.”

“Not quite,” you replied, settling beside him and pulling the blanket over your lap. “Just had a few things to wrap up.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, draping his arm along the back of the couch so it brushed lightly against your shoulder. “What’d ya light up there? Smelled like somethin’ sweet when I walked by.”

“Oh, just a candle I got the other day,” you said, adjusting the blanket. “Blueberry. It reminded me of…” You trailed off, hesitating.

Logan tilted his head, his gaze curious but patient. “Of what?”

“Of my grandma,” you admitted quietly. “She used to make blueberry pancakes when I was a kid. It was kind of… our thing.”

His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his eyes giving way to something warmer. “Sounds nice. Bet she made a hell of a pancake.”

“She did,” you said, smiling faintly at the memory.

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thumb brushed absently against your shoulder, a small, steady movement that felt grounding. You leaned into him slightly, the weight of the day slipping away in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “You doin’ okay?”

The question caught you off guard, but you nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the TV, though you could tell his attention was elsewhere. “Just… you’ve been workin’ hard. Wanted to make sure you’re not overdo—”

You cut him off, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to make him pause, his eyes flicking to yours with something close to surprise.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, your voice gentle. “But thank you for asking.”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. He didn’t respond right away, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. And as his arm tightened around your shoulders, pulling you closer, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were finally starting to let yourself enjoy this—enjoy him.

---

Movie night was cherished by everyone; loads of popcorn popped in the microwave, an obsessive amount of butter used, and the candy and sweets supply gone in a matter of seconds before the movie even started. The younger students had fought over the best spots on the floor while the older team members claimed the couches. The mansion’s common room, usually buzzing with activity, had settled into a cozy calm as the opening credits rolled.

You sat nestled into Logan’s side, his arm slung lazily around your shoulders. It wasn’t the first time you found yourself in this position during a movie night, but it was the first time you didn’t feel the familiar tug of self-consciousness. Logan’s presence had a way of grounding you, the steady weight of his arm an unspoken reassurance that you didn’t have to overthink it.

He twirled a strand of your hair around one of his fingers absentmindedly, his attention ostensibly on the screen but his actions telling another story. The motion was small, gentle, and oddly soothing. You caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips when he realized you hadn’t pulled away.

“You comfortable, darlin’?” he murmured, his voice low enough not to disturb the others but still carrying that familiar warmth.

You tilted your head slightly to look at him, a soft smile of your own forming. “Very,” you admitted quietly. “Are you?”

He chuckled under his breath, his fingers brushing against your hair again. “Yeah. Got everything I need right here.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t look away, feeling a newfound boldness stirring within you. You leaned a little closer, letting yourself relax into him completely.

The movie played on, a mix of action and humor that had the room alternating between bursts of laughter and quiet concentration. Logan seemed mostly indifferent to the plot, but you could tell he was enjoying the rare downtime as much as you were. The younger kids whispered among themselves, sneaking extra handfuls of popcorn while Jean and Scott shared occasional glances from the other side of the room.

By the time the credits rolled, a few of the younger students had already started to drift off, their sugar highs fading fast. Logan stretched slightly but didn’t move from his spot, his arm still draped around you.

“You about ready to call it a night?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against your shoulder.

You nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yeah, I think so.”

He stood, offering you a hand. You took it without hesitation, and he pulled you up gently. As the others began cleaning up the remnants of snacks and blankets, Logan guided you toward the hall with an ease that felt entirely natural.

“I could’ve walked myself, you know,” you teased lightly as the two of you strolled toward your room.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But where’s the fun in that?”

When you reached your door, he paused, leaning casually against the frame. “You sure you’re good?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You nodded, fiddling with the hem of his flannel that you were still wearing. “I’m good, Logan. Thanks for tonight.”

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. Then, with a faint grin, he reached out and tapped the side of your glasses lightly. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You smiled, but before he turned to leave, you tugged on his sleeve, the soft fabric catching slightly between your fingers. Logan stopped immediately, his eyes dropping to your hand and then back to your face, curiosity flickering in his gaze.

Leaning up on your toes, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was tentative, shy in a way that made your heart pound, but you didn’t pull away too quickly. When you finally stepped back, his expression was unreadable for a beat—then his lips curved into a slow, unmistakable smirk.

“Well, look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing but with an edge of something deeper. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that made you melt. “You’ve got no idea what you just started.”

You felt a giggle bubble up, and before you could stop yourself, it escaped. “Oh, really?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light despite the heat blooming in your cheeks.

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips again, but this time there was nothing tentative about it. His kiss was deeper, slower, and it stole the breath from your lungs. His other hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction closer as his fingers pressed into the flannel you still wore.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breathing as steady as ever, though his voice was huskier now. “You’re not gettin’ away with a kiss like that without me makin’ it count.”

Your laughter came easier this time, softer, as you felt yourself relax fully into his presence. “I wasn’t trying to get away with anything,” you whispered, your fingers lightly curling into the front of his shirt.

“Good.” His lips brushed against your forehead as he stepped back, his hand lingering at your waist for a moment longer. “’Cause I’d have to come after ya if you did.”

The teasing edge in his voice was enough to make you roll your eyes fondly, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. Logan caught it, of course, and his own smirk softened into something warmer.

“I’ll let you sleep,” he said, his hand finally dropping away. “But don’t think I’m not gonna remember this.”

“Goodnight, Logan,” you replied with a laugh, shaking your head at him as you opened the door.

“Night, sweetheart,” he said, stepping back into the hallway but pausing for just a second longer, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he finally turned and walked away.

You closed the door behind you, your heart still fluttering in your chest as you leaned back against it. The soft glow of the blueberry candle flickered on your desk, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, a small, private smile still on your lips.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were getting the hang of this whole affection thing after all.

---

The TV flickered softly in the dark room, casting a warm glow as the classic Western played. You had half your attention on a stack of physics homework, pen in hand, scribbling notes in the margins of your students' assignments. Logan sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders, a cold beer in his other hand. His body heat, the soft scent of his cologne mingled with leather and something ruggedly him, and the steady rise and fall of his chest were grounding.

“You know, for someone who manipulates time, you’re awfully slow at grading,” he teased, his deep voice rumbling through you.

You nudged his side with your elbow, not looking up from the paper you were marking. “Patience, Logan. It’s a virtue.”

He chuckled. “Not one of mine.”

As the minutes passed, your focus wavered. The warm room, Logan’s comforting presence, and the low hum of the movie were a potent combination. You stifled a yawn, trying to blink away the sleepiness creeping over you. When Logan felt you shift against him, his arm tightened just slightly.

“Hey,” he said, glancing down at you. “Why don’t you call it for the night? You’re about to start drooling on my flannel.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his teasing. “I’m fine. Just a little—” You yawned again, more pronounced this time, betraying your attempt to play it cool.

Logan smirked knowingly. “Sure you are, darlin’. C’mon, just crash here. Not like you haven’t before.”

His casual tone carried an edge of tenderness that made your stomach flutter. You hesitated, though, fiddling with the edge of his shirt sleeve. “I don’t want to intrude. It’s your space.”

Logan raised a brow at you, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “You’re already takin’ up half the bed with your papers and that death grip you’ve got on my flannel. How much more ‘intruding’ could you do?”

You tried to stifle a laugh but failed miserably. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, setting his beer down and turning to face you more fully. His voice softened. “Stay, Y/N. I sleep better when you’re here anyway.”

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his words, and you gave a small nod. “Okay. But only because you insisted.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it went,” he deadpanned with a smirk, reaching to collect the stack of papers in your lap. “Gimme those. You can terrorize the kids tomorrow.”

You let him take the work, watching as he set it on the nightstand before grabbing your glasses and gently slipping them off your face. “There. Now you’ve got no excuses.”

His hands were careful, deliberate, as he folded your glasses and placed them beside the papers. It was such a simple gesture, but it made your heart ache in the best way.

Sliding under the covers, you sighed as Logan turned off the TV, the soft hum of static fading to silence. When he joined you, the mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and he wasted no time wrapping an arm around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, your voice sleepy as you snuggled into his chest.

“Good,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Means you’re not gonna freeze on me.”

You smiled against him, your fingers curling lightly against his shirt. The quiet settled around you both, comfortable and familiar, as Logan’s hand traced lazy circles on your back. His presence was grounding, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby.

“Logan?” you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah?” His tone was low, patient.

“Thanks... for everything.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your temple. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t long before sleep claimed you, the feeling of safety and Logan’s steady presence the last thing you remembered.

---

The sunlight seeped into the room through the thin cracks in the blinds, casting soft, warm patterns across the bed. Logan stirred slightly, the shift of your weight against his chest the only thing keeping him from falling back into a deeper sleep. Your head was tucked under his chin, one arm draped lazily across his waist, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing against him.

For a moment, he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. This—this quiet, peaceful moment—was rare in his life. It wasn’t just the calm, though. It was you.

His hand, resting lightly on your back, moved of its own accord, tracing absent patterns along the flannel you wore. It was one of his, of course—worn, soft, and just a little too big for you. The sight of you in it had done something to him, a mix of pride and affection that he hadn’t let himself analyze too closely. Not that he needed to; Logan had always been a man who trusted his instincts, and every instinct he had screamed to hold on to you for as long as he could.

He sighed quietly, his thumb brushing over the fabric as his thoughts began to wander. He didn’t sleep much, not deeply, and the nights when you stayed with him were... different. The nightmares didn’t hit as hard. The gaps in his memory didn’t haunt him as much. You didn’t fill the holes left by what he couldn’t remember, but you gave him something better: hope.

Hope. The word sat heavy in his mind. He didn’t dare to speak it aloud, not even to himself. But as his gaze drifted down to you, the way you clung to him in your sleep, his chest tightened. He’d been through this before—five times before. Five versions of you, each so much like the one before, and each one lost too soon.

His jaw clenched at the thought, a protective surge flaring in his chest. He wouldn’t lose you again. He couldn’t. This time... this time had to be different.

Logan let his head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as his fingers continued their unconscious movements on your back. It wasn’t just the hope that you’d stay this time—it was the hope that maybe he could be enough for you. You deserved more than a man like him, a man with bloodied hands and a past he couldn’t even piece together. But you didn’t seem to care about any of that. When you looked at him, there wasn’t judgment in your eyes, only trust.

The thought scared him. It thrilled him, too.

You shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible as your fingers tightened against his side. Logan glanced down, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you bury your face against him, clearly not ready to wake up yet.

“Cuddly little thing,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble. His hand came up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “Should’ve warned me before you moved in and took over my damn bed.”

You didn’t respond, of course, but a soft hum escaped your lips, and Logan swore he felt something crack in his chest. He didn’t know how he’d gotten here, holding you in his arms, waking up to your warmth pressed against him—but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to question it.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke the stillness, and Logan’s gaze snapped to the door, his body instinctively tensing. But the steps moved past without pause, and he relaxed again, his hand coming up to cradle your head against him.

His fingers brushed lightly against your temple, his touch tender despite the strength in his hands. “You’re gonna stick around this time,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, your lashes fluttering as your eyes cracked open. Blinking up at him, you gave a sleepy smile, one that made his chest ache in the best way.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep.

Logan smirked, his hand coming up to tap the tip of your nose. “Morning, darlin’. Sleep okay?”

You nodded, letting out a content sigh as you snuggled closer to him. “Best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

His smirk softened into something warmer, his gaze lingering on you. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re stayin’ here more often, then.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks flushing as you looked up at him. “Bossy this morning, aren’t we?”

“Always,” he shot back, his tone teasing but his eyes serious. He reached down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for just a moment. “But only when it comes to you.”

You didn’t reply, but the way you smiled up at him, your hand curling lightly against his chest, told him everything he needed to know.

---

The halls were empty, the muffled hum of distant voices and the occasional scrape of a chair faintly audible through the closed doors. Logan walked beside you, his arm resting comfortably around your shoulders. The warmth of his hand against your upper arm sent a reassuring calm through you, grounding you in the moment.

You weren’t heading anywhere in particular. There was no class for you this period, so it seemed natural to just wander. Logan’s presence had a way of easing the tension you often carried. His steps were steady, his casual confidence contagious.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, glancing down at you, his voice soft enough not to break the stillness of the hall.

“I’m always quiet,” you replied, teasing him as you nudged his side lightly.

“Not with me,” he countered, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Around Logan, it was easier to let your guard down.

As you reached the end of the hallway, he slowed, turning to face you. His arm slipped from your shoulders, and his hand found yours instead, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The way he looked at you—steady, unwavering—still had the power to make your heart race.

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” he asked, his tone gentler now.

You hesitated, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing serious. Just… glad we have these moments. It feels normal.”

His expression softened, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I get that.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s hand moved to your waist, tugging you closer. The kiss that followed was slow and deliberate, a quiet promise in the way his lips moved against yours. You felt the warmth bloom in your chest, the world narrowing to just the two of you for a fleeting moment.

A faint chuckle broke the silence, making you both pull back abruptly. Turning toward the sound, you saw Charles in his wheelchair, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Apologies for the interruption,” Charles said, his tone light. “I was simply passing through.”

Your cheeks burned as you stepped back slightly, though Logan didn’t move far, his hand still resting at your waist.

“Didn’t think you needed to apologize, Chuck,” Logan said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.

Charles smiled knowingly. “I see the two of you have been enjoying each other’s company.”

You opened your mouth to respond but faltered, unsure what to say. Logan, as always, was quicker.

“Yeah, we have,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering as he looked at Charles.

“Well,” Charles said, his smile growing as he nodded toward you, “carry on, then. But do try not to block the hallway.” With that, he moved past, his wheelchair gliding smoothly down the corridor.

Once he was out of earshot, Logan glanced down at you, his smirk returning. “You’re blushin’, darlin’.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands, being careful of your glasses. “Of course I am! We just got caught—”

“Kissin’ in the hall?” he interrupted, clearly amused. “Not exactly a crime.”

“It’s not about that,” you said, peeking up at him through your fingers. “I just—”

He cut you off with another kiss, his lips brushing against yours in a way that melted your embarrassment. When he pulled back, his smirk was softer, his voice quieter. “Relax. It’s just us.”

You nodded, the tension easing from your shoulders. As he laced his fingers with yours and guided you further down the hall, you couldn’t help but smile. Logan had a way of making everything feel simpler, even when it wasn’t.

And as you walked together, you realized you didn’t mind if people noticed. Being with Logan—his hand in yours, his presence steady at your side—felt right. And that was all that mattered.

---

The radio played softly in the background, some classic rock tune filtering through the medbay as you and Jean worked. The scent of disinfectant lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the faintly metallic tang of medical supplies. Jean stood by one of the cabinets, carefully stacking bandages, while you sorted through a box of various medications and supplies.

“So then,” Jean said, a smile in her voice as she spoke, “he gets back up, brushes himself off like it didn’t just happen, and tries to give me this look—you know the one—like he’s still in control.” She laughed lightly. “Scott can be so smooth until he’s not.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you placed another vial into the correct drawer. “He tripped over the toolbox again, didn’t he?”

“Third time this week,” Jean confirmed, setting down the stack of gauze she was holding. “It’s like his visor blinds him to anything below knee level.”

“Maybe he needs a warning system,” you joked. “Like a little beep every time he’s about to trip.”

Jean laughed, but it turned into a small, sharp intake of breath. Her hand shot to her temple, and she winced, nearly dropping the bottle she was holding.

“Jean?” You stepped forward, concern pulling at your features. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, waving you off with a tight smile. “It’s just a headache. Probably from not drinking enough water—or Scott stressing me out.”

You didn’t look convinced. “That looked more like a migraine starting than just a little headache.”

She brushed your concern aside, her voice steady but with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m fine. Really.” She turned back to the cabinet, her movements deliberate. “Let’s just finish up here.”

You hesitated, but when she didn’t elaborate further, you decided not to push. Instead, you returned to sorting through the supplies, though you kept an eye on her. The quiet between you stretched for a moment, filled only by the sound of bottles and boxes being moved.

“So,” Jean started again, her tone lighter as if trying to steer the conversation back to normal, “how’s Logan?”

Her question caught you off guard. You glanced at her, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. “What do you mean?”

She arched a brow at you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, come on. You two are… spending time together.”

“Spending time together,” you repeated, deadpan.

Jean rolled her eyes and turned to face you, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “Fine. You’re dating. And don’t try to deny it, Y/N; I’ve seen the two of you.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth at the thought of Logan. “We haven’t exactly been keeping it a secret.”

“No, but you’re not shouting it from the rooftops, either.” Her smile softened, and she tilted her head. “You seem happy.”

“I am,” you admitted, unable to keep the smile off your face. “It’s… it’s nice. Being with him feels natural.”

Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. “He’s good for you, you know. I mean, Logan’s not exactly the easiest guy to figure out, but with you—” She trailed off, her gaze flickering toward the window as if something had distracted her.

“Jean?” you asked gently, watching as her brows furrowed slightly.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I lost my train of thought.”

You frowned, but before you could ask more, she straightened and reached for the clipboard on the counter. “Anyway,” she continued briskly, “we’ve got about half an hour before the next group comes in for their check-ups. Let’s finish this up.”

Her shift in tone was enough to signal that she didn’t want to dwell on whatever had distracted her. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off. You nodded, deciding to let it go for now, and returned to your task.

The quiet settled over the two of you again, broken only by the occasional rustle of supplies. But in the back of your mind, the image of Jean’s wince lingered. You made a mental note to check on her later, even if she insisted she was fine.

---

The steady rhythm of your sewing needle was oddly soothing, the soft swish of thread through fabric blending with the distant murmur of voices from the common room. You sat in the library, a warm lamp casting a golden glow on your hands as you carefully repaired one of the kids' shirts. The hole wasn’t too big, but enough for Theresa to complain about it after snagging it during a game of hide-and-seek.

Logan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched you. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips. You’d known he was there for a few minutes now, but his silence didn’t bother you. Logan wasn’t the kind of man who needed to announce himself. His presence was as steady and grounding as the floor beneath your feet.

“Don’t know why you’re doin’ that,” he finally said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Kid’s just gonna tear it again.”

You glanced up, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smile. “And I’ll sew it again,” you replied simply, not missing a stitch. “It’s what she asked for.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

Your focus remained on the shirt, though you felt the weight of his gaze. You didn’t need to look up to know the expression on his face—the soft fondness that had crept in over the last few months.

A low tsk broke your concentration, followed by the unmistakable sound of Logan clicking his tongue. You looked up, your brows furrowed in confusion, only to find him patting his thigh. The gesture was casual, but the look in his eyes was warm, almost coaxing.

“C’mere,” he said, the gruffness in his tone softened by a hint of amusement.

Your cheeks warmed, and you hesitated, glancing down at the shirt in your hands. “Logan, I’m sewing—”

“You can sew sittin’ here,” he interrupted, patting his thigh again. “Don’t make me ask twice, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, the shyness you thought you’d been shedding creeping back in. But Logan didn’t rush you, his patience as steady as his presence. After a moment, you set the shirt and needle aside, standing up and crossing the room. He didn’t say anything as you approached, just slid his hands to your waist to guide you onto his lap. His arms wrapped around you loosely, holding you steady as you settled in.

“There,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple as you reached for the shirt and needle again. “That’s better.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “I can’t believe you wanted me to sit here just so I could keep sewing.”

“Not just for that,” he said, leaning back slightly, his hands resting on your hips. “I like havin’ you close.”

The simplicity of his words made your heart stutter, and you ducked your head, focusing intently on the fabric in your hands. Logan chuckled, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“You’re cute when you get all shy,” he teased, his voice low. “Still tryin’ to figure out why, though. It’s just me.”

“Exactly,” you muttered under your breath, earning another chuckle from him.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, the silence between you comfortable. Logan’s thumb traced absentminded circles against your side, a grounding presence as you worked. You were nearly finished when a voice broke the quiet.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

You startled, nearly pricking your finger as you turned toward the doorway. Jean stood there, arms crossed, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes flicked between you and Logan, her amusement obvious.

Logan didn’t so much as flinch. “Got a problem, Red?”

Jean raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin widening. “Not at all. Just wondering how long you two were planning on hiding in here.”

“Not hidin’,” Logan replied easily, his tone daring her to argue. “Just relaxin’.”

Jean arched a brow, her gaze settling on you. “Relaxing, huh?”

You groaned softly, the warmth in your cheeks betraying you even as you tried to focus on your sewing. “Jean…”

“What?” she said innocently, though her smirk suggested otherwise. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Logan asked, his voice tinged with mild irritation. But the way his hand tightened ever so slightly on your waist betrayed his protective instinct.

Jean rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two alone. But don’t forget, we’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.” She glanced at you with a pointed look. “Both of you.”

You nodded, though you didn’t trust your voice to sound steady enough to respond. Jean gave you one last smile before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and Logan alone again.

“Meeting, huh?” Logan murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Guess we better get movin’ soon.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips. “In a minute. I’m almost done.”

Logan hummed, his arms tightening around you slightly. “Take your time, darlin’. I’m not in any rush.”

And for once, neither were you.

---

It was unusual for you to not feel a weight around you when you slept with Logan, either from his arms around you or his body pressed to your back.

You turned around to face him when you noticed a bead of sweat on his forehead and him mumbling something you couldn’t make out. His brow furrowed in distress, and his body shifted restlessly under the covers, his breaths shallow and uneven. You leaned in closer, brushing a hand against his arm.

“Logan?” you whispered gently, your voice soft enough not to startle him. “Hey, it’s okay.”

He didn’t respond, his mumbling growing louder, words spilling out in broken fragments. “No… stay back… can’t…” His hands gripped the blanket tightly, his knuckles whitening as a low growl rumbled from his chest. The sound sent a shiver through you—it was feral, almost pained.

“Logan,” you said again, louder this time, shaking his shoulder lightly. “Wake up.”

Before you could react, his claws shot out with a sharp snikt, slicing through the fabric of the blanket and grazing your forearm. You flinched as pain flared, a thin line of blood welling up across your skin. But you didn’t pull away.

“Logan!” you said firmly, your free hand cupping his face. “It’s me. Wake up.”

His eyes snapped open, wide and wild, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he even recognized you. His chest heaved as he took in his surroundings, the tension in his body slowly melting as reality settled back into place. His claws retracted with a metallic hiss, and he reached for you almost instinctively.

“Y/N?” His voice was hoarse, guilt already thick in his tone. His gaze dropped to your arm, and he froze. “Shit… I—did I do that?”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, covering the cut with your other hand. The sting was already fading, and honestly, you were more worried about him than the injury. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

His jaw tightened as he sat up, shaking his head. “Don’t give me that. I hurt you.” He reached for your arm, carefully pulling your hand away to inspect the cut. The sight of the blood made his expression darken. “I could’ve done worse.”

“Logan—”

“No,” he cut you off, his grip on your wrist firm but gentle. “This ain’t fine, Y/N. I could’ve—”

You exhaled softly, pressing your free hand to his chest. “Logan. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he did, his eyes meeting yours, guilt flickering beneath the surface. “I’m okay,” you said firmly. “And I can fix this.”

Before he could argue, you focused on the cut, a faint shimmer of energy surrounding your hand as you slowed time around the wound. The blood seemed to retreat, the torn skin stitching itself back together until it was as if the injury had never happened. When you looked back at Logan, his brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he muttered, his voice low. “You shouldn’t have to use your powers just ‘cause I can’t keep my shit together.”

“Logan,” you said softly, taking his hand in yours. His palm was rough, his fingers warm as they curled around yours. “You had a nightmare. That’s not your fault.”

He shook his head, his eyes dropping to where your arm had been cut. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t deserve to get hurt ‘cause of me.”

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I’m not scared of you,” you said, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling in your chest. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

His gaze softened, though the tension in his shoulders remained. “Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about it,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve hurt people before… people I care about.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning closer until your forehead nearly touched his. “You’re not that man anymore. And even if you slip up, I’m still here. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Stubborn as hell, aren’t ya?”

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” you teased gently, earning a soft chuckle from him.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, the weight of the moment slowly giving way to a comfortable silence. Logan’s hand lingered on your arm, his thumb brushing over the now-healed skin as if to reassure himself it was really gone. His other hand moved to rest on your back, pulling you closer until you were tucked against his chest.

“You should sleep,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I will,” he said, though his tone made it clear he had no intention of letting go of you anytime soon. “Just stay here.”

“Always,” you whispered, the word barely audible but enough to make him tighten his hold on you.

And for the rest of the night, neither of you let go.

---

After cleaning up the kitchen, Ororo had mentioned that the ice trays needed to be refilled tonight for the next morning.

The water faucet hissed softly as you tested the stream with your fingers again, patiently waiting for it to warm. A stack of five empty plastic ice trays sat next to you on the counter, neatly arranged like a to-do list. You dipped your fingertips under the flow and frowned when it still wasn’t quite hot enough. Behind you, the quiet creak of heavy footsteps announced Logan’s arrival.

“Darlin’,” he drawled, stopping just a few feet away. “What the hell are you doin’?”

“Filling the ice trays,” you answered without looking up. “Ororo mentioned they needed to be ready for the morning.”

“And why,” he said, stepping closer, his tone tinged with amusement, “are you waitin’ for the water to heat up for that?”

You turned, already gearing up for an explanation, and saw Logan leaning against the edge of the doorframe, arms crossed. His expression was bemused, but there was that familiar glint in his eyes—the one that told you he was in no rush to stop poking at you.

“Well,” you started, pushing your glasses up on your nose, “if you use warm water instead of cold, it freezes faster because of the Mpemba effect.”

“The what-now effect?” Logan tilted his head, his smirk growing. “Y’gonna tell me you’ve got some science magic that makes hot water turn to ice quicker?”

“It’s not magic,” you said, exasperated but smiling. “It’s physics. Look, it’s counterintuitive, sure, but the Mpemba effect happens when warmer water loses heat more quickly in certain conditions because—”

He stepped closer, watching your face as you gestured, your explanation picking up steam. “—warmer molecules have a higher average kinetic energy, and that affects convection currents. Plus, there’s evaporation at the surface, which reduces the volume of the water, and—”

Logan let out a soft laugh, cutting you off with a simple, “You’re cute when you ramble, y’know that?”

Your words stumbled, and you blinked at him, thrown by the sudden warmth in his voice. “I—what?”

“I said you’re cute,” he repeated, stepping into your space until the counter pressed against your back. His hand found your waist, fingers brushing lightly through the fabric of your shirt. “Real cute. And too damn smart for your own good.”

Your cheeks heated, and you tried to turn back toward the sink, but his hand slid up to cradle your jaw, keeping your attention on him. “Logan, the water—”

“Let it run,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your cheek. His expression softened, the teasing edge slipping away. “I love you.”

The words landed so easily, so naturally, that for a moment, you thought you’d misheard him. But the look in his eyes—the steadiness, the certainty—left no room for doubt.

“You… love me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” he said simply, his hand slipping back to your waist to pull you closer. “I love you, Y/N. Been waitin’ a long time to say it.”

Your heart raced, your mind spinning as you processed his words. He loved you. Logan loved you. You opened your mouth to respond, but all you managed was a faint, breathless laugh, your hands curling against his chest.

“That funny to you?” he teased, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“No, no, it’s not—” You shook your head quickly, a wide grin breaking across your face. “It’s just—Logan, I love you too.”

His grin softened into something warmer, something private, as he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You reached up, sliding your hands along his shoulders. “Even if you don’t believe in the Mpemba effect.”

That earned a real laugh from him, low and rough and filled with so much affection it made your chest ache. “Don’t need to believe in it,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “I believe in you.”

And when he kissed you, warm and sure and so full of love, you knew you didn’t need anything else.

---

The mansion was unusually quiet for a Sunday afternoon, the calm settling like a blanket over the sprawling halls. Most of the students were outside enjoying the sunny day, their laughter floating faintly through the open windows. You’d been curled up in the living room, reading one of your well-loved books on the couch, when Logan strolled in.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, the rough timbre of his voice wrapping around you like a warm coat.

You glanced up from your book, smiling at the sight of him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his hair doing that effortless thing where it looked messy and perfect all at once. “What gave me away?”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a habit, darlin’. You disappear every Sunday around this time. Figured you’d be here, buried in a book.”

“Guilty,” you admitted, shifting to make room for him on the couch.

Logan didn’t sit at first. Instead, he hovered, leaning over you to catch a glimpse of the title in your hands. “Pride and Prejudice?”

You arched a brow. “Surprised?”

“Not really,” he said, his smirk softening into something fond. “Figured you’d be into that kinda thing.”

You gave him a mock glare. “That ‘kinda thing’? It’s a classic.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his arm draping over the back so his hand could rest on your shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring, “I love you.”

Your heart fluttered, the now-familiar warmth of his words spreading through your chest. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your lips twitching into a playful smile. “Again?”

“What?” Logan said, his grin widening. “You expect me to stop sayin’ it?”

“Never,” you teased, leaning into him. “I just don’t think you’ve gone more than an hour without saying it since last week.”

“Can’t help it,” he said simply, his voice low but earnest. “I love you, and I like sayin’ it. You got a problem with that?”

You shook your head, your cheeks warm. “Not even a little.”

Logan chuckled, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns over your shoulder, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear grounding you.

“Y’know,” he began after a few moments of comfortable silence, “I used to think this kinda thing wasn’t for me.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “What? Lounging on a couch with someone while they read Jane Austen?”

He snorted. “That too. But mostly… this. Bein’ close to someone like this. It’s different with you.”

His words settled over you, weighty and sincere, and you felt your throat tighten. You reached up, your fingers brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “I’m glad it is,” you whispered.

Logan’s lips curved into a small smile, one reserved just for you. He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss that was soft but unhurried. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I love you.”

Your laugh was quiet but full of affection. “That makes four times today.”

“Not keepin’ score, are ya?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well,” he said, his tone turning playful, “better get used to it, darlin’. I’m not stoppin’ anytime soon.”

You didn’t think you’d ever want him to.

---

You were standing in the kitchen, brushing crumbs off the counter after dinner when Logan walked in. His presence was as effortless as always, but his eyes softened when they landed on you.

“You cleanin’ up again?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Habit,” you replied, tossing the crumbs into the trash. “Stormy made dessert earlier, so I’m just tidying up.”

Logan hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. “Looks clean enough to me.”

“Logan,” you protested lightly, though your smile betrayed you.

“What?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Can’t a guy hug his girl?”

“You’ve been clingy today,” you teased, though you leaned into him, savoring his warmth.

“Clingy, huh?” he rumbled, his voice low. “Thought I was just bein’ affectionate.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Yup.” He turned his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before whispering, “I love you.”

You sighed, not in exasperation but pure fondness. “Five times.”

“Like I said,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smile against your skin, “better get used to it.”

“I’m starting to think I might like it,” you admitted softly, tilting your head to give him better access.

“Good,” Logan said, his voice a quiet promise. “Because I’m not stoppin’. Ever.”

You didn’t think you’d ever want him to.

---

You watched Jean walk down the hall from her classroom to the medbay, almost unaware of her surroundings. You didn’t follow her—didn’t want her to lie to you again about a ‘headache’ or ‘stress.

You let out a soft huff as she went into the elevator. As the door closed, footsteps sounded out from your side, “she’s been off… hasn’t she?”

Scott’s question hung in the air between you, a subtle inquiry wrapped in a shared concern. He glanced at you, a quiet weight behind his gaze, but it was the way he waited for your response that made it clear he was looking for validation.

“You think she’s off too?” you asked softly, not quite meeting his eyes but feeling the truth of it in your own chest. Something was definitely different about Jean lately, though it wasn’t easy to put a finger on. She was always a little intense, but the past few days had felt like a quiet storm was brewing behind her eyes—something just out of reach.

Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to find the right words. “Yeah. She’s not… herself. And I’ve noticed she’s been acting distant.”

You nodded, folding your arms across your chest as you leaned against the wall. “I’ve seen it too. She’s been more withdrawn, like she’s not really… there, y’know? Like she’s somewhere else in her head.”

Scott let out a breath, his eyes darting to the elevator as if hoping Jean might come back out any minute. “I don’t know, Y/N. It’s like she’s on edge, and I can’t figure out why.”

“I think… I think it’s more than that,” you said, your voice low, uncertain. “She’s been different for a while now. It’s not just today or this week. I think it’s been building up, and I don’t think she even knows what’s going on.”

Scott frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t argue. “You think it’s something with her powers?”

“I’m not sure,” you said, shifting your weight and glancing down the hall as if expecting Jean to walk out from one of the rooms. “Her abilities have always been intense, but now it feels… unbalanced. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Scott ran his hand through his hair again, a habit of his when he was anxious or frustrated. “I just wish I knew what was going on. I don’t want to keep pushing, but I don’t know how to help her.”

You could hear the frustration in his voice, and while you didn’t blame him, you knew there was nothing you could offer in terms of answers. Only… a feeling. A gut instinct telling you something deeper was at play, something neither you nor Scott could quite put together.

“Maybe,” you began, pausing to choose your words carefully, “maybe she needs space. But… if it were me, I’d want someone to ask. I don’t think she’d come to either of us unless we made the first move.”

Scott looked over at you, eyes thoughtful. “You’re right. Maybe I should go talk to her. I just don’t want to push too hard.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of helplessness settle in your chest. “You know her better than anyone. Just be gentle. She’s not the same Jean anymore. Not like she was before.”

Scott glanced down the hall again, his brows knitting together as he thought. “I’ll talk to her. But if it gets worse…”

“I’ll help,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. You didn’t know exactly what was happening with Jean, but you would always do your best to stand by her.

“I’m not sure what to think about it,” Scott admitted. “But I appreciate you being here to talk it through.”

The moment hung for a second longer, both of you lost in the uncertainty of the situation. Then, as though to lighten the mood a little, you added, “You’re a good friend, Scott. You’ll find a way to help her. Just… don’t let her push you away too much. She needs you.”

Scott offered a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Before either of you could say more, the soft click of the elevator doors opening interrupted the conversation. Jean stepped out, her expression distant but trying to mask it with a smile.

“Hey,” she said, her voice a little too light, a little too forced. She turned to you both, but her eyes lingered just a fraction longer on you. “Everything okay?”

Scott nodded quickly, offering her a polite smile. “Yeah, we were just talking. About the team. How are you feeling?”

Jean’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, and for a heartbeat, you caught a glimpse of the fatigue in her eyes. “Fine,” she replied, but the word didn’t quite sound right. “Just... a little tired.”

“Maybe you should get some rest?” you suggested gently, your voice quiet but full of care. You hated how fragile she looked, how thin the veil of normalcy felt when she was around.

“I will,” Jean said, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Thanks for checking in.”

As she moved past you both, heading back down the hall toward her room, Scott watched her with a pained expression. You could feel the same worry in your chest.

But neither of you said anything as Jean disappeared down the hall. You both knew that sometimes, despite your best intentions, people had to find their own way to deal with what was coming. And with Jean, something was coming. Something none of you were prepared for.

When the silence stretched out, Scott finally broke it. “I’ll talk to her later,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure what’s happening, but I’ve got to try.”

“I know you will,” you said softly, your words quiet but full of reassurance. “And just… be patient. She might not even know what’s going on.”

Scott gave a short nod before walking off down the hall. You stayed behind, lost in your thoughts, wondering what Jean was really hiding. And, more importantly, why it felt like it was all tied up in something far bigger than any of you realized.

But for now, you knew that your role was to be there when she needed you. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

---

The bedroom was quiet except for the faint rustling of the wind outside. Logan leaned back against the headboard, arms loosely crossed, watching you with that familiar, steady gaze that always seemed to settle your nerves and set them alight at the same time.

You sat at the edge of the bed, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater. The shy smile tugging at your lips didn’t escape him—nothing ever did. His brow arched slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he tilted his head.

“What’s on your mind, darlin’?” The low rumble of his voice carried more warmth than teasing.

You shifted, exhaling softly before crawling over to him, knees sinking into the mattress. His arms uncrossed, hands resting lightly on your hips as you settled yourself across his lap, straddling him. The move caught him off guard; it wasn’t something you did often. You felt his body tense briefly, then relax as his hands instinctively held you steady.

“Just… you.” The words came out soft, almost bashful, but your grin grew when his lips quirked in response.

Your hands slid up to his shoulders, fingertips brushing against the fabric of his shirt before tracing their way to his jaw. His stubble was rough beneath your touch, a texture you’d grown to love. Without a word, you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

Then another.

And another.

“Hey,” he murmured, a quiet laugh in his tone. “What’s this about?”

You didn’t answer right away, instead brushing your lips along the curve of his jaw, then the corner of his mouth. He turned slightly, trying to catch your lips with his, but you pulled back just enough to avoid it. The playful glint in your eyes made him grin wider.

“I’m repaying you,” you finally said, punctuating the words with another kiss, this time on his nose.

Logan’s hands flexed against your hips. “For what?”

“For saying ‘I love you’ thirty-four times this week,” you teased, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “I counted.”

That earned a genuine laugh from him, deep and unguarded. His head tilted back slightly, the sound rumbling through you. “Thirty-four, huh? Sounds about right.”

You hummed, leaning in again to press another kiss to his cheek, then his temple. “I’m not gonna say it thirty-four times back,” you admitted, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “But… this works, right?”

“It works,” he assured, his voice softer now, a hint of reverence in the way he looked at you. “Keep goin’. I’m not complainin’.”

Your laugh was quieter than his, but just as genuine. You pressed another kiss to his forehead, then to the spot just above his collarbone where his shirt didn’t quite cover his skin. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as you kept at it, the lingering shyness in your actions melting into something more natural, more you.

By the time you finally leaned back to meet his eyes, his expression was a mix of amusement and something much deeper. His thumb brushed a light circle over your hip.

“Thirty-four’s got nothin’ on you, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low but sure.

Your face warmed, but you couldn’t stop the smile. “Good,” you said, leaning in to kiss him one last time, this one slower, more lingering. “It’s supposed to.”

Logan’s hand slid up your back, the other tightening slightly on your hip. The kiss deepened, his lips pressing firmly against yours, not rushed but deliberate, as though savoring the moment. By the time you both pulled back, breath mingling, he was smiling in that way he reserved just for you—a little lopsided, a little boyish, and entirely endearing.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he murmured, voice thick with affection.

You didn’t have time to respond before he shifted beneath you, his hands moving to the backs of your thighs as he rolled you onto your back with ease. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and Logan’s grin widened at the sound. He hovered over you now, the weight of him just enough to feel safe and grounded without being overwhelming. His arms bracketed you, caging you in gently but firmly.

“Now, what’s this about me sayin’ ‘I love you’ too much?” he teased, lowering himself just enough to nuzzle his nose against your cheek. His stubble grazed your skin, and you couldn’t help the breathy laugh that bubbled up.

“I didn’t say ‘too much,’” you countered, your hands instinctively moving to his shoulders. “I just said you’ve said it thirty-four times this week. Big difference.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, his lips twitching with amusement as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Sounds like someone’s keepin’ real close tabs on me.”

“Of course I am,” you replied, your tone softer now. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re worth keeping tabs on.”

That earned you another smile, this one less teasing and more tender. He stared down at you for a long moment, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your side. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—it never was. It was full, warm, and unspoken words lingered in the air.

“You know,” Logan began, his voice quieter now, “I don’t just say it to hear myself talk.”

“I know.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jawline. “I like hearing it.”

Logan huffed a small laugh, then dipped his head again, this time pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, Y/N,” he said, low and steady, the words carrying all the weight they always did.

You smiled, your hands sliding up to cradle the sides of his face. “I love you too, Logan.”

At that, he sighed—a deep, contented sound that rumbled through his chest. Then, slowly, he shifted again, resting his weight beside you rather than on top of you. His head found its place against your stomach, his arms wrapping around your waist as though he needed to anchor himself to you. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and you instinctively combed your fingers through his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp.

Logan closed his eyes, the tension that always seemed to linger in his shoulders finally melting away. “Y’know,” he muttered after a moment, “this might be my favorite spot in the whole world.”

You felt your cheeks warm again, but the smile that tugged at your lips was unstoppable. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because it’s yours,” he said simply, his voice muffled slightly against the fabric of your sweater. “And I figure if I’m here, then I’m good.”

Your chest tightened at the simplicity of his words, at how effortlessly he could turn you into a puddle. For someone who carried so much weight on his shoulders, Logan always had a way of making you feel light, cherished, even when you didn’t think you deserved it.

“You’re definitely good,” you murmured, your hand still carding through his hair. “Better than good.”

“Don’t push your luck, sweetheart,” he said, but the teasing tone in his voice made you laugh softly.

The two of you stayed like that for a while—his head on your stomach, your hands in his hair, and the world outside your bedroom fading into irrelevance. Eventually, Logan let out another contented sigh.

“Thirty-five,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You frowned slightly, glancing down at him. “Thirty-five what?”

“‘I love you,’” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he tilted his head to look at you. “Said it thirty-five times now.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “And counting,” you teased.

“Damn right,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He nestled closer against you, his arms tightening around your waist. “Gonna say it every chance I get.”

As the wind continued its soft rustle outside, you couldn’t help but think that, in this moment, everything felt exactly as it should.

next chapter is the last stand!!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

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icallhimjoey · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! Hope you're doing well (I've never submitted a request before, should I like buy you dinner?)

I was looking at the photo of joe looking kver his shoulder with the sunglasses on and getting major "You and Joe on holiday, lounging by the pool and when he looks over his shoulder he sees you getting drinks at the bar with the bartender flirting with you" vibes

I was wondering if you could write something like that? I love your work btw it's amazing!

cool cool cool cool cool fine fine im totally normal about this NORMAL normal so normal noooormaaaallll fine fine fine Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Just A Man

You'd seen him look. Had felt him look, his eyes burning holes into your back. It made your already slightly sunburnt skin, warm from laying out for hours already, flush even more.

He would've looked anyway, you knew. But it would've just been a quick glance to see if you were getting on okay. If you were at the bar to get drinks, like you said you would. To sneak a look at your bum in your bikini bottoms - Joe was just a man, after all.

But sweet giggles just loud enough for the wind to carry them over to his ears were what made him stare. First from behind his sunglasses, but then those got moved to rest on top of his head so you could see him look.

So he could see him look.

Like the bartender even fucking noticed that one guy on the other end of the pool narrowing his eyes at him, squinting because of the sun, posing absolutely zero threat.

"That your new boyfriend?" Joe was already asking questions before you'd even let go of the glass you'd handed him.

"Hmm? Your holiday fling?"

You rolled your eyes as you sat down on the sunlounger next to him, towel still wet from where you'd laid on it earlier.

"Please." you smiled, but Joe just kept going.

"Your Italian Stallion? Little hunk of meat for on the side?"

You flung the back of your hand against his chest in a smack as you took a sip of your drink, and Joe laughed as he took hold of it and kept it there.

"I was trying to practice my language skills," you'd not been struggling to keep up your duolingo streak just for shits and giggles. Learning a foreign language had become a part of your daily routine and you'd been keeping it up for too long to not take it seriously. Ordering a couple of drinks and making small talk was exactly the right thing to do to see if you could manage it in Italian.

"He gets to listen to you speak Italian?"

You'd been refusing to say a single word out loud to Joe.

"That guy?" Joe looked over his shoulder again and pressed your hand to his chest so it laid flat against his heart, using it as his own to look extra aghast.

You felt how your warm skin stuck together, the stick from sunscreen mixing with the stick from spilled sugary cocktail.

"Si." you joked, smacking your lips after another fruity sip, and you smiled at him.

Joe moved the hand you'd lost to him up to his lips to press a kiss against your fingers, tasting summer, before he let it go.

"Si? That's all I get?" Joe asked over his glass as he went for a sip of his own.

You carefully placed your drink on the tiles in between your sunloungers, out of the direct sun, and ignored Joe's pleading eyes.

If you looked, you'd cave, so you didn't.

Something about his eyes.

And he was well aware, make no mistake.

If he knew what was good for him, he'd slide those sunglasses right back down onto his nose again.

"For now." you simply said, standing up and bending to straighten out your towel, folding corners back where the wind had blown them over. It gave Joe the perfect view of your ass, skin tanned and dewy from when he'd rubbed sunscreen over every inch of you earlier. A little sliver of tanline was visible from where your bikini bottoms had shifted a little, and, listen. Joe just couldn't help it, okay?

Joe was just a man, after all.

He was spilling his drink down his chest before he could even really understand what he was doing.

With his drink still at his mouth in a slow sip, one hand had reached across, fingers splayed out wide, grabbing you around the side of a hip. His finger tips dug into soft warm flesh and pulled you right back; half onto his lap, half into the spot in between his legs.

You didn't audibly react.

Just grinned.

That was how Joe knew that you'd likely bent over to faff with your towel exactly for this outcome.

You, as it turned out, were just a girl, you see. One who didn't mind feeling extra wanted.

"Well then you can just sit here, for now."

A possessive arm curled around your stomach far enough for his palm to squeeze your opposite side, and you got pulled into him tightly.

Joe squeezed extra tight when you bent to pick up your drink from the floor and then leant back and got comfy, all pressed up against his chest.

From his movement, you felt how he snuck a look back over his shoulder.

"Is he watching?" you whisper-yelled, and tried your best at suppressing a giggle as Joe quickly snapped his head back.

"Who?"

"My new boyfrie–" you squeaked as Joe shut you up with a pinch to your side. Joe could dish out the jokes fine, but something about you calling another man your boyfriend was absolutely unacceptable.

It just made you grin, biting your teeth into your bottom lip as you accepted lips cold from the ice cubes to the very top of your shoulder.

You were going to end up with weird tanlines if you were going to sit like this for too long, but it was too nice to really care about anything else besides Joe's touch. Besides his grip. Besides being close together, bare skin to bare skin, laid out on a sunlounger together.

You didn't mind the effect of Joe's slight neediness. That small little grain of insecurity that made him need to show others that he got to touch you in ways they couldn't.

There was no real threat though.

Not really.

You both understood that a smile at a stranger didn't mean anything.

Joe was an actor who put those big wet round eyes to use on others all the time.

You could laugh at an Italian bartender who flexed his muscles as you mixed the drinks you ordered and acted like the love of his life had just walked up, like he probably did for every other girl that had as much flesh on show as you had.

It was all harmless, which was exactly why it was fun to keep pushing it a little. To keep poking the edges of Joe's jealousy, the borders of his tendency to cling, just enough for him to feel the need to remind you that, hello, he was your boyfriend. It was him you were meant to be looking at.

Which was exactly why, when you finished your drinks, you sat up, still in between his legs and cheekily suggested getting another round, already looking over at the bar to see if the same bartender was there still.

That got you pulled right back into him, one arm hooked around your neck that got your ear close to his mouth whilst his other arm held your arms in place so you couldn't fight his grip.

Like you were going to.

You easily let Joe hold onto you whichever way he wanted.

"You must think you're so funny," Joe's low voice buzzed into your ear, lips pressed to the shell of it. "Hm?"

It was fun to toy with him like this, this weird form of play sent tingles right down your spine.

"I do, actually," you grinned, "Così divertente."

And... Joe was just a man.

Were you playing with fire?

You absolutely were.

The teeth that nipped at your earlobe made you feel the burn, breath hitching, body tensing up.

Jesus, you were in public.

Joe was biting and mouthing at your ear and you were in public.

There were appropriate ways to be affectionate in public, but this was practically foreplay.

The way you'd laid on the same sunlounger whilst keeping two of them occupied with your towels was probably already annoying enough to every other person visiting the hotel pool. They didn't need the public display of affection to be taken to another level right there at the poolside.

"You know what?" Joe whispered, words hiding in your hair. "Go ahead. Go order us another round of drinks. You're going to do it in Italian."

You moved back just enough to see Joe's face.

"And you're going to walk real slow."

The sunglasses that were still perched on top of his head got moved down to hide his eyes.

"Take your time. Really enunciate your words in your best Italian accent."

You dipped your chin to give Joe a scandalised look that was just a hair removed from a smile, just a fraction of a second away from a giggle.

Before you were up on your feet, Joe handed you both the empty glasses, tried to sound as seductive as he possibly could when he said, "Roll your Rs loud enough for me to hear."

With a tap to your bum and a blush deepening your sunkissed skin, you scurried along.

You ordered in English.

Stuttered and mumbled through the order.

Looked over your shoulder to see Joe sat on his sunlounger the wrong way 'round with his legs spread wide, one foot touching tile on either side, elbows digging into his thighs.

Watching you.

Sent you on your way with a little task and was now watching you.

It was one thing feeling Joe's eyes burn into your back when you felt in charge and confident ordering drinks at the bar in Italian. It was a whole other thing to feel embarrassed and shy, all hot and bothered, stumbling through your order in English whilst Joe watched your every move from a distance.

He didn't look away once, and even from where you were stood at the bar, you could see how a small smirk pulled his mouth to the side.

Where his jaw was tensed before, now his tongue was working along in the inside of his cheek.

That was how you knew that he'd likely sent you over to get drinks in the way that he had done exactly for this outcome.

Joe was just a man, after all.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @dailyobsession

@demonsanddemogorgons, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson

@emotionaldreamer, @erinekc, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief

@joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munson-mjstan, @mvnsonlover, @nadixq

@notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf

@royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself, message me

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #just a man

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cemeteryspider · 4 months ago

Text

Family Fragments Part 1

Stanford Pines x Child! Reader

*No use of Y/n* *Fem Reader*

Summary: Flashback~ Ford must protect you, his innocent daughter, from becoming an unwilling pawn in the sinister schemes of an Interdimensional demon.

Trigger Warnings: Possession, Child Endangerment (thanks Bill), Psychological Manipulation, Mild Violence

Word Count: 1.1k

You shifted in your father's arms as he pushed through doors and walked through hallways from the basement of his shack in the woods into your room in the attic. You barely registered him tucking you into your bed and him kissing you on the forehead with his heavily chapped lips.

"Good night, Sweet pea," He whispered and the door clicked behind him.

A loud tired sigh echoed in the short stairwell down to the foyer. The descent down the staircase was heavy and creaky and when he came to the door in the basement he widened his eyes and allowed the retinal scanner to scan his eye confirming he was not possessed by Bill. He couldn’t help the yawn that escaped his lips as he entered the basement, cluttered with half-finished devices- scattered wires and gears glinting under the dim flickering light bulb hanging overhead.The unfinished portal stood tall in front of him humming a just so a he felt a soft vibration through the soles of his shoes.

He sat down at the workbench and resumed writing in the third journal. Drawing the new suit he was designing to keep Bill out of his mind for good, however there was the small problem of the brain he needed to complete the thing. However, his mind drifted to the mind erasing gun in the hand of the suit which reminded him of his old friend, who left him alone to work with his muse months ago.

Then he heard a not so subtle knocking coming from upstairs. At first he thought it was some random drunk knocking at the door and letting the person get bored of the odd old cabin in the woods, but after a succinct series of thuds and a hushed laughter he decided to investigate.

He breathed a sigh of relief—at least Bill couldn't sneak his way down there, not without triggering the failsafes. But as he looked up, his heart stopped. There you were, standing in the foyer, eyes glowing an unnatural yellow and a smile far too wide for your little face. It was a sight so wrong, so unsettling, that Ford could barely bring himself to speak.

Your limbs jerked awkwardly, like a marionette pulled by unseen strings, controlled by a puppeteer who lacked all finesse, "Hey, sixer!"

He stood frozen for a moment. Bill's voice coming from your mouth where your sweet little voice should have been, he swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to speak, "What are you doing here Bill?"

Bill grinned, twisting your lips into a mockery of a smile, "I just came by to see you and it seems as though you've taken certain... precautions to make sure I don't interrupt your research."

A chill went down Stanfords spine, his research into the Anti-Cipher Society, and the plans for the suit I had designed, "Let's talk face to face, Cipher. No need to bring my daughter into this."

"I suppose I could end our contract a bit earlier than I intended," And with that your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, and your scaleras the correct color once more. Quickly Ford ran toward you and stopped your descent before hitting the ground.

Bill floated around looking at the different furniture with great fascination, "What is wrong with you, she's just a child."

He cradled your head while you continued your sleep, "Yeah, quite a while since I made a deal with something so small, very difficult to control such small limbs. Painful falling down the stairs don't you think?"

His eyebrows rose and looked over your head moving your hair around, checking for any blood or bruising that could indicate a head wound or concussion.

Stop being such a stick in the mud, Sixer,' Bill sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. 'She’s perfectly fine…for now.' His tone darkened, and Ford’s blood ran cold as he watched Bill shift, his form flickering like a faulty lightbulb.

Ford clutched you tightly to his chest, his heart pounded erratically in his ribcage, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"Nothing more for me to do here, but just you wait I think I will see you again, real soon," With that the cabin seemed to gain its color back and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

"Dad?" You whispered after a rather large yawn. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at hearing your darling voice. His fingers trembled as they wrapped themselves around your small frame, almost as if you would slip right through his grasp into the nightmarish darkness Bill brought in. For a moment, he pressed his nose to the top of your head and breathed in your familiar scent, desperate to remind himself that you were here with him- still his little girl. A surge of guilt tightened his chest.

"Everything's going to be okay, Sweet Pea just go back to sleep." And you did. For so long he had stayed awake for as long as possible trying to avoid Bill gaining control of his body he forgot about you. A child with little contact with the outside world, and how easily children can be persuaded by older wiser beings. Bill is a master manipulator and Ford practically opened the door to your mind by inviting him into his.

Despite the distance he forced Bill to keep from you, he had been in his mind. Combed through his memories his happiest being with Stan in his earlier years, and with you in the present. You never were far from his thoughts and Bill knew his weak spot.

He could pull his own hair from his scalp at his own negligence, scream at the top of his lungs for the danger that he put you in, or cry at the worry he felt after learning of your tumble down the stairs caused by someone he once called his friend. However, he did none of those things.

Once he had tucked you in for a second time, Ford sank into the old chair beside your bed. The springs groan under his weight, the leather cracked and worn from years of use. He stared at you for a long moment, watching your chest rise and fall as you slept peacefully. It made his heart ache. How innocent you looked, under a heap of soft blankets, completely unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond your dreams. A dim lamp casting a light golden glow across the room that seemed like a fragile barrier against the dark shadow Bill Cipher cast on this night.

Ford’s hand shook as he plucked a pen from your desk and opened the journal he had tucked in his coat pocket, the ink bleed slightly as he pressed it to the parchment. He wrote furiously, his mind racing with all sorts of plans, but one thought rang through: I can’t let him take her. Not my daughter.

#stanford pines x reader #stanford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x child!reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines x daughter #ford pines x daughter!reader #ford pines x child!reader

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debonairprincesposts · 2 months ago

Text

Stroke Inducing Grammar

Summary: Where reader loses their mind over bad grammar and Jason does his best to take their mind off it. (Seriously it’s a nightmare)

Words: 1.5k

Jason lounged on the couch, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light over the living room. He held a book in one hand, but his gaze was drawn to you, nestled against him. You were scrolling through your phone, your brow furrowed and lips pursed in a way that made you look like you were about to burst.

‘What’s going on in that pretty head of theirs?’ he thought, internally chuckling at your intense expression. He could almost see the gears turning and the frustration radiating off you like heat from a fire.

“Hey, sweets. You doin’ okay?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, laced with genuine concern. He shifted slightly to face you, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was causing you such distress.

You glanced up, your eyes wide with exasperation. “The grammar of this damn article is so bad that it’s physically painful for me to even read another word!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “The terrible writing doesn’t make any sense, and it’s making me physically cringe!”

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at your passionate reaction. It was one of the many things he adored about you—your ability to get so deeply invested, even in the little things. ‘Adorable,’ he thought.

Without missing a beat, he gently took the phone from your hands, setting it aside on the coffee table. “How about we take a break, hm?” he suggested, his voice softening as he pulled you closer to his chest. He felt the tension in your body, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it.

As he wrapped his arms around you, he began to massage the back of your neck, right under your skull. He could feel the knots in your muscles, and he focused on working them out, hoping it would help you relax a little. “Just close your eyes and focus on me,” he said, his voice a calming whisper.

You obliged, your eyelids fluttering shut as you leaned into him. Jason took a moment to appreciate how close you were, the warmth of your body against his. It felt right. He could feel the weight of the world lift slightly as he held you, and he wanted to share that feeling with you.

“Okay, so let me tell you about this one time my teammates and I got into some serious trouble,” he began, his tone light and playful. “We were all out on a mission, right? And B’s detective instincts kicked in. He decided to investigate a lead at a karaoke bar—of all places.”

You opened one eye slightly, the corners of your mouth twitching as you fought back a smile.

“Yeah, I know. What were we thinking?” Jason continued, grinning now. “We thought we’d blend in, but it turns out I can’t carry a tune to save my life. I ended up butchering ‘I Will Survive’ so badly that I think I left half the crowd in tears. But not the good kind! I think I actually lost my street cred that night.”

At that, you let out a soft laugh, the tension in your body slowly melting away. Jason felt a rush of warmth in his chest, knowing he was bringing you some joy amid your earlier frustration.

“And then there was the time we tried to do a stealth operation in a library,” he continued, his voice animated. “I swear, the librarian had ears like a bat. She caught us sneaking in and kicked us out faster than you can say ‘shhh!’” His smile widened at the sound of your giggles.

Jason leaned back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he prepared to share another story. "Alright, babe, here's one that'll really get you laughing. It's about the time we had to infiltrate a high-society gala," he began, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"So, we're all decked out in tuxedos, right? Me, Dick, and Tim. We figured we'd blend in with the crowd and gather intel on some shady dealings happening in the upper crust of Gotham. But it turns out, none of us really know how to act at a fancy event."

You shifted closer, intrigued, your earlier frustrations forgotten.

"First off, Dick tries to impress everyone by ordering the most expensive champagne on the menu. You know how he is with his charm. So, he's chatting up this socialite while Tim and I are standing awkwardly in the corner, trying to look sophisticated. But then, Dick leans back, trying to look all suave, and—bam!—he spills the champagne all over the lady's designer dress!"

You burst into laughter, picturing the scene. "No way!"

"Totally," Jason continued, chuckling at the memory. "The look on her face was priceless. She was ready to toss him out on his ass, but instead, he just starts apologizing profusely, making it worse. Classic Dick, right? Always smooth until he isn't."

He paused for effect, enjoying your reaction. "But wait, it gets better. So, while Dick's trying to salvage his dignity, Tim decides it's a great time to show off his 'master of disguise' skills. He found this ridiculous fake mustache and thought he could fool everyone by pretending to be a waiter. He even practiced his 'may I take your order' line."

"No!" you exclaimed, covering your mouth in disbelief.

"Oh yes," Jason laughed, shaking his head. "He walks up to this group of ladies, mustache all crooked, and asks if they need anything. But instead of playing it cool, he trips over his own feet and spills a tray of hors d'oeuvres everywhere! It was like a scene out of a comedy movie. Food flying, ladies shrieking—it was chaos!"

You were practically in stitches now, leaning against him as you laughed.

"And the best part?" Jason added, wiping a tear from his eye. "The host of the gala was a known crime boss. So, when the food went flying, he stood up, furious, and threw Tim out of the event. We barely escaped!"

You looked up at him, still giggling. "You guys are a total mess!"

"Hey, what can I say?" Jason shrugged playfully. "We might be heroes, but we can't do everything right. Sometimes, you just have to laugh at yourself—and try not to spill any champagne next time!"

You chuckled again, this time more freely, your laughter a sweet sound that made Jason’s heart swell. “Are you an angel?” you teased, your voice light and playful.

He smirked, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Nah, just a guy trying to keep his love from losing their mind over bad grammar.”

As he spoke, he could feel you relaxing against him, the tension fading like mist in the morning sun. He loved these moments—the little pieces of life where he could be there for you, bringing comfort and laughter.

“Just remember,” he said softly, “sometimes you’ve gotta let the bad writing go. Focus on the good stuff, like this,” he added, gesturing between the two of you. “This is what matters.”

You sighed contentedly, your body sinking into his embrace. Jason felt a sense of fulfillment wash over him. He would do anything to see you smile, to ease your worries, even if it meant sharing embarrassing stories about his own life.

In that quiet moment, as you nestled closer against him, he knew he’d always be your anchor, ready to pull you back from the edge whenever you needed it.

Fluff. Yummy nummy.

Om nom nom

ଘ(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

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hellfirenacht · 10 months ago

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Water Balloons

Summary: You’ve been dating Eddie for a few months, but never talked about the future.

Tags: Eddie x Reader, sfw, fluff, neither reader or eddie want kids, mentions of breeding kink but it’s Reader being a little shit, NO ACTUAL KINKS INDULGED IN, no use of y/n, fem!reader

Notes: I have nothing against breeding kinks or parent!Eddie fics. But this is for anyone who does NOT enjoy those specific things.

Bassed off of this post by @deathbecomesthem

You and Eddie laid on the roof of his van, a blanket under you both as you stared up at the sky. The two of you had been watching the late summer sun slowly disappear over the horizon in shades of fiery reds and oranges. Now the two of you stared at the stars above, creating new constellations as your fingers intertwined.

This had been the best summer of your life. Eddie had asked you out the second he ran off the stage in his graduation gown, diploma in hand. You had barely said yes before slamming your lips against his. He’d been waiting two years to ask you out, not wanting you to have to explain to people that you were in your early 20s and dating a high schooler.

Summer days were stretched with Eddie visiting you at work, day long games of dungeons and dragons, hanging out at the pool, and driving around with music blasting. Nights had been endless memories of the Hideout, watching him play, sneaking into his trailer when Wayne was at work, and long conversations that would only end when the sun came up.

You didn’t think it could be better than this, which is why you had been putting off this conversation for so long.

Eddie was talking about how he’d snuck into the High School to play Dustin’s latest one-shot. Without Eddie as the DM, the other members had been taking turns running different smaller campaigns.

“The kid has imagination.” Eddie said, his hand giving yours a squeeze. You could feel the clunky rings on his fingers digging into your skin but you had grown used to the feeling by now. “He always threw me off when I was in charge but he’s on a whole other level as the DM.”

“Did anyone catch you sneaking in or out?” you asked, looking at the small sliver of moon above.

“Not a soul.” he looked over at you and grinned. “Besides, what would they do? Expel me?”

“Arrest you for trespassing.” you nudged him with your own grin. “Remember, I don’t have bail money.”

“I’d break out.” Eddie said. “Get myself a spoon and start digging.”

You giggled and ran your thumb over the back of his hand. You’d always had a thing for his hands before, but after dating they were one of your favorite parts about him. His fingertips were rough and calloused from playing guitar, but the rest of his hand was smooth and soft from the lotion you’d always put on him when you applied it to yourself. He used to pretend he hated it, but now he always offered his hands whenever you pulled out your lotion.

“I ran into Cass Finnigan earlier.” you said, trying to keep your tone casual, as if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest. Things were going so good, why ruin it?

“Cass?” Eddie sounded surprised. “Huh, I haven’t seen her since she graduated."

“She’s pregnant. Probably about three months.” you said, your voice going a little quiet. The pause between the two of you was closer to term than Cass.

“Yeah?” You could hear a strain in Eddie’s voice that you wish you knew what it meant. Was that stress? Yearning? Gas? Most times Eddie wore his emotions on his sleeve but your own anxiety was clouding your reading of him.

“Yeah.” you echoed. “Surprised me, considering how young we are.”

“Too young.” Eddie said, and you felt him shift next to you.

“Way too young.”

The silence between you stretched miles, each of you trapped deep inside of your minds as you thought about a former classmate's pregnancy.

You decided to rip the bandaid off.

“I don’t want kids.” You said, staring harder at the sky. You held your breath, waiting for the shoe to drop. Kids had never been something that appealed to you, not in a million years. The idea of children, pregnancy, parenthood, none of it sounded rewarding or exciting. It only filled you with dread and anxiety.

You’d lost boyfriends over it, partners that you had really liked. They all said the same thing. That you were still young, still in school, of course you didn’t want kids now. You’d change your mind.

You never did though.

As you held your breath, Eddie deflated next to you. Shit, this was going to end the same. He was going to repeat those same tired lines and you’d have to break this off.

Then Eddie started laughing.

“Oh thank Christ.” he said, rubbing his face. “I was terrified you were dropping a hint that you wanted to start a family.”

“What? Oh no- Eddie. Eddie, no.” you shook your head quickly, the tension in your body starting to ease up a little. “But I mean it, Eddie. I don’t want kids. Ever. Like, ever ever. I don’t want pregnancy, I don’t want to adopt... I don’t want to be a parent.”

“Me either.” Those two words could have knocked the wind out of you.

You sat up and looked down at him. Eddie looked so pretty with his long hair splayed on on the blanket and brown eyes that reflected the stars that you had just been looking at.

“Do you mean that?” you asked firmly. “Because I mean it.”

Eddie sat up and faced you, not letting go of your hand. “I’m not dad material.” he said. “I never have been, and I never will be. Being a parent scares the shit out of me. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a kid even if I had one.”

“I think you need to feed it sometimes.” you gave him a smile. “Take it for walks twice a day and teach it not to poop on the floor.”

Eddie laughed, and pushed you down so that he was on top of you. “No, that’s me you’re thinking of.” he joked. Moving his legs on either side of your hips.

“Oh, I hope you’re housebroken, Munson.” you laughed. “Otherwise I want a refund.”

“Sorry, I don’t do returns. You know this.” he kissed your cheek.

“You’re so fucking weird.” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I believe the word you're looking for is freak, sweetheart.”

Your fingers ran through his hair and he closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face. “You’re really okay with that?” you asked. “I know we’ve only been dating a few months, but I don’t- I’m not just dating you to date you. I want this to be real. If you want kids, we can stop this whole thing and-”

Eddie didn’t let you finish, cutting you off with a kiss. “No returns.” he said firmly before kissing you again. “I don’t want kids.” Kiss. “You don’t want kids.” Kiss.

You couldn’t resist messing with him, and looked up at him with a grin that Eddie learned quickly meant trouble.

“Oh but Daddy, don’t you wanna knock me up?” you said, batting your eyelashes. The look on Eddie’s face was priceless as he looked at you like you’d eaten a bug. He tried to get off you but you grabbed him and pulled him back. “Come on, Eds, let’s make Granny Eckard right and get some Munson Jr. Jrs running around!”

“Absolutely not, oh no. Get off me, woman!” Eddie struggled to pry you off, but you just held him tighter.

“Don’t you wanna... uh....be my Daddy and also be the father of my children?” you laughed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I think my poor dick just went into early retirement.” Eddie said dramatically. “I may never get it up again because of this conversation. And what will you do then, hm?”

“You have fingers and a tongue still.” you wiggled your eyebrows. “And I have plenty of toys if those go limp, too- MMFFF...!”

Eddie had covered your mouth with his hand, and despite how pale he had gone for a second he was now laughing hard. “Stop talking. You’ve abused your talking privileges for the night.” Eddie looked down at you. “I’m gonna let go, and you’re gonna stop making it weird. Can you do that?”

You nodded, still shaking with your laughter. It was tempting to keep going, but you wanted to check just one more time.

His hand pulled off your mouth and you both sat up again, your giggles echoing in the small park that you were in.

“I mean it.” Eddie said, taking your hand again. “I don’t want kids either. I could live the rest of my life with just you and I’d be happy.”

Your heart jumped up in your throat. “The rest of your life...?”

Eddie realized what he said quickly. “I mean, you and I have been friends for years and I know that the whole dating thing is new for us but... yeah. I know I’m not exactly Mr. Romantic, but...”

That was enough for you, and you took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently. “So... kids no, but open to marriage?”

“Not right now.” he said. “Later.”

“Aww, am I not enough for a whirlwind, runaway marriage?” you smiled. “Not gonna drive me to the courthouse right now and make an honest woman out of me?”

“Considering how your specialty was always a bluff check, I doubt anyone could make an honest woman out of you.” Eddie snorted.

“I guess you’re worth the wait.” your leaned closer to him. “You were always worth the wait.”

“You’re gonna make me blush.” Eddie said, cupping your cheek and kissing you softly. “You know... since we’ve agreed that kids are off the table, I do have a half used box of condoms in the back of the van that could be used right now.”

“Oh, and what happened the the other half of the box?” you smirked, knowing full well what happened.

“Well, you see sweetheart, a few weeks ago we decided to have a water balloon fight but we ran out of balloons so me and Jeff had this idea-”

“Eddie no!” you laughed, smacking his arm. “Seriously? Where was I during all this?”

“You abandoned me.”

“I was at work wasn’t I? Remind me to quit tomorrow.”

Eddie pulled you in closer “Well that’s only where a few of them went. The rest went to this really hot chick who somehow decided to take a chance on the biggest freak in Hawkins.”

“Lucky her.” you said, pecking his lips. “So... wanna show me these makeshift water balloons? For science, of course.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Eddie said with a smile.

Eddie helped you down from off the top of his van, and you just knew that this was it. No matter what happened after tonight, you knew that you both were in it for the long haul. No need to change or force things just because of what everyone said you should do. From then on, it would be just you and Eddie, and that would be enough.

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader

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cloveroctobers · 6 months ago

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COMEDY — SYDNEY ADAMU [Summer Writings]

A/N: always imagined writing for Syd and I guess the time has finally arrived…only took three seasons but my girl deserves better and better is what she’s gonna get from me! This piece is set mostly in the final episode of season three as a heads up ❤️

S|N: there was a prompt list that I wanted to go off of to use for you the reader but now I can’t find it so I’m just going off the little I remember. Which is: you being a cyclist.

WARNINGS: language, self-doubt, neighbor trope, + mentions of sexual harassment.

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Having a new neighbor was interesting to say the least. You didn’t think she was fond of you after running into her twice, sneaking in the first time and nearly running your bike over her feet as she seemed to be in a rush herself. She looked as if she was the type of person that if she knew that she had to be somewhere by a certain time, she would be there much earlier than needed.

You on the other hand? Operated on your own time, not sticking to routines as much after your quest to turn into a pro cyclist fell through, and you were stuck working a shitty retail job down at the dollar general (shut out to your general studies degree, your mother did aways say you should have studied something more valuable although she didn’t go to college herself and felt like her money was wasted on you compared to your older sister who lived in South Africa as a zoologist)…where you basically came in when you wanted since the manager never knew how to schedule the four of you—yes—FOUR of you properly. You did what you needed to survive, just like anyone.

The second time you got her attention was when you buzzed her apartment, annoyingly on her day off, contemplating about the contract agreement in the emptiness of her living room.

“Uh…yeah?” She pressed.

“Oh good! You’re home. I thought I was going to have to bug Anita instead and she’s the last one I want to talk to.”

“Who’s Anita?” Sydney paused before asking although she had a feeling who, “And who am I speaking with?”

“She’s on our floor,” you shift from one leg to the other feeling the violent urge to pee, “with the big 80’s curly hair, she talks to herself and at times it is a little concerning and she’s a bit of a Karen. You’ll know once you see her when she’s constantly asking if you live here after seeing her a handful of times and as for me? I’m one of your best neighbors, Ms. Lady with the Colorful hair scarfs.”

“It’s Sydney.” She replies and you nod your head finding that name to be fitting, “Oh yeah, the other guy with the abnormally big octopus tattoo on his cheek told me about you. You always forget to bring your keys, right?”

Oscar.

You thought to yourself in irritation, “Oscar raw dog’s his crocs, so you shouldn’t take his word for anything.”

Sydney laughs, finding this apartment building much more entertaining (so far) than the one she left previously behind but never her dad. “Am I sensing a little tension there or…”

“That’s another story for another time! Can you please buzz me in or else I’m going to have to go right on this sidewalk and I really don’t need another public indecency charge.”

You were honest, Sydney could admit but she also didn’t want to be the one to let a stranger, if you were a stranger into the building if you weren’t really who you said you were you know?

“…how do I know you really live here and aren’t just stalking one of the other tenants?” Sydney quizzed, trying to remember just what you looked like in passing.

“Because stupid Oscar told you I like to forget my keys on purpose?” You remind while Sydney slowly realizes this, although you can’t see this revelation on her face you keep going, “I live at the end of the hall from you, I even used to date Oscar’s sister, but she cheated on me and tried to gaslight me and then took the dog—which honestly looked like a fucking dust bunny in the dark so I’m not really all that upset about it—

“What kind of dog?” She chortles, but the curiosity is also evident beneath it.

You started dancing to the beat of The Fresh Prince in your head, which somehow always worked when you were about to piss on yourself—apologies for being unladylike or unpersonlike but hey when you have to go you have to go, “some Asian breed that starts with a P…Pekingese? Yeah Pekingese!”

“…I don’t know what the hell that is?” Sydney pats at her scalp.

“It’s like a failed experiment of a pug and Pomeranian!” You inform, “It’s actually awful looking, and my know it all sister would scold me for being discriminatory to animals but whatever! Um, How else can I convince you person in the nice cold building while I’m out here at risk of getting a heat stroke?! The basement is horror level scary so if you have to go down there—make sure you have somebody with you or just don’t? There’s also a squeaky floorboard in the middle of our hallway, a weird stain on the wall that’s shaped like a top hat?” You ramble.

A buzzing noise sounds right after your last word and you deeply exhale, yanking the front door open to hold with your backside while you rolled your bike in. “Thanks neighbor! Hope to run into you soon.”

“Ah, dont mention it!” You hear Sydney call, “and maybe invest in a clip for your keys?”

“With the way my cobweb bank account is set up? Not likely, girl! Timmy the toilet is calling my name! Catch you later!”

Sydney shakes her head, letting go of the button to glance at her open laptop and sigh choosing to head into the kitchen instead for some frozen waffles for dinner.

Despite the fact that Sydney is hardly at her new apartment, she finds a paper bag with handles on her door knob when she gets in one night. Carefully she peeks in it while opening the door to her apartment, once inside she pulls out a new satin scarf. It’s a golden yellow with white polka dots on it with a note attached.

~Welcome to the building + thanks for letting me in the other day. I think you’ll like this? If not? I’d never know! —your neighbor ____at 84H.

Which started something between you two without really knowing each other. All you knew was each other’s names now, you had handwriting that honestly resembled calligraphy—something Sydney would have never guessed you were into but you also picked up that when you did see Sydney, she seemed to have a scarf covering her braids majority of the time. She wore them well so you thought why not? It wasn’t anything overly expensive but it was thought that counts?

~What’s your go to midnight snack? —your neighbor Syd @ 84D.

Was on a lime green post it on your door days later. It became your thing, leaving little notes every couple of days on each others door, in a way it became a silent message to let each other know that you both were still around even if you never had the chance to officially be face to face.

So you attempted to draw a horrible picture of what that may be and then drew an x right over it. You weren’t crafty in that way, writing a message beside the terrible picture saying: a struggle meal. A grilled cheese but jelly as the cheese and jalapeño chips. Are you a board game person or video gamer?

Days seemed to get hectic after that in the both of your lives that the post it game seemed to die down just a little. Summer hours seemed to increase since the two teenagers that you worked alongside of preferred to be outside rather than inside—you didn’t blame them. One of them ended up quitting, the other lied and said they sprained their ankle but their Instagram said they were really hanging out at the river, so it was down to you and your elderly coworker Janice, who was actually in chronic pain, and then your manager was “temporarily,” on leave after a customer complained of sexual harassment.

The look you and Janice shared said enough, you believed the customer.

So now you had a new manager from fucking North Dakota…you had no clue what was even out there and they had a whole different approach. They had a neighborly spirit that you wished the scarce people at your building had—except for Sydney of course. The new manager was actually out on the floor, greeting customers and asking if they needed any help! They even gave you and Janice a choice during your eight hour shift, you can alternate between the register and stocking or just pick your role for the shift. They also kept checking in making sure the both of you were well mentally (ha!) and if you needed to take a ten minute break before your actual lunch.

She was a dream but definitely wouldn’t last.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” The North Dakotan asked, already in her pick up truck as you fumbled around with the chains to your bike.

Janice already beeped her horn twice in her Volkswagen Beetle, speeding out of the parking lot with Fleetwood Mac flowing from the windows. You snickered, hand waving in the air as you turned back to the chains, finally getting it unlocked.

“Thanks for the offer but one thing about me, I love this bike more than anything and as long as I can still ride it? I’ll choose this over any car or train any day.”

The manager smiles, “alright then, you have a good night. Get home safe, will you?”

“I’ll try my best.”

You’re limping towards your apartment, it’s late and the sky had this milky fog to hide the sense of dread—or was it grief that sat in your heart? You’re just at your door, body sore, spokes ruined from your bike but as bad as you felt you heard the huffing and sniffing from your left.

Picking up on the braids right away, you know it’s Sydney and it doesn’t appear that she’s having a good night although she’s dressed as if the night was supposed to be. Leaving your bike against your door, you pause, debating if you wanted to get involved or if she would even want to bothered with you while she’s having a moment. You use the act of your post it’s as the okay to be neighborly and check on your neighbor at the end of the hall.

The hallway feels like forever to get to Sydney but her round eyes widen in bewilderment as she feels you groaning to plop down next to her.

“Oh my god,” she gasps as she scans over your features with damp under eyes, “…w-what happened to you?”

Lolling your head to meet her gaze, you grin at her, ignoring the sting of the scrape on your chin and say, “I might have saw hell not too long ago.”

Sydney shifts, using the back of her hand to wipe at her nose, “I—don’t know how to respond to that.”

You explain, “Well apparently we all have to go somewhere—if you believe in that kind of thing. And I guess the person upstairs said let me show you as I turned into a speed bump.”

“You were hit by a car?!” Sydney yells, although her own head felt like someone was letting the air out of a balloon and her heart felt like it pulsating in a way that was probably too slow, with her veins feeling like the whipping of traffic on the freeway.

You knew that look, even had some pill bottles that actually became decor pieces on your bedside table that were supposed to help calm the track runner fuzzies inside to relax…but the concern was evident on her face yet it wasn’t really about you tonight, this was your first time officially meeting and the both of you looked like shit. Well maybe you more so but Sydney definitely felt like it.

“Worse,” you say searching your back pocket for the rolled up pack of gummies, “A electric scooter, that looked a whole lot like my teenage little shit of a co-worker who’s been out on injury.”

You held out the gummy bears to Sydney, lifting your gaze to meet dark brown hues once more. There’s laughter that bubbles in her chest as she envisions it, her large front teeth poked out behind her lips.

“I don’t mean to laugh at you—

“Eh, I do it all the time! Glad I could be of service to you.” You tip your imaginary hat, “And you know what he had to nerve to say to me after we both skidded across the street? That I scuffed up his kicks, when he was on the wrong side of the road!”

Sydney cupped her mouth, other hand holding onto a green gummy bear, “No! That’s so wrong.”

“If he ever decides to come back to work…I’ve got something for him.”

“A hospital bill?”

“Oh no! Hospitals give me the ick. All medical people do.”

Sydney tilts her head to the side at this, unsure what to fully make of that but somehow understood, however felt like she should still be slightly concerned that you didn’t get yourself checked out! considering how scrapped up and how your hair was basically mangled. Also who knew what you looked like underneath your summer attire…Sydney was no doctor but you seemed kinda careless!

“I’m afraid to ask.” Sydney bites off the head of the candy.

“Stick him on the register and sneak out for the day once the lines start to pick up. I hate to do it to our new manager since she seems cool but…it’s what he deserves.” You tighten your eyes wickedly.

Sydney slowly nods her head at this and snorts, “where do you work?”

“Dollar general,” you say with a shrug, “you?”

Sydney deeply sighs, “I’m a chef.”

“Oh-ho! Chef Sydney. I knew there was something special about you, neighbor.” You state.

Sydney shakes her head, “No, it’s not anything really.”

“Are you kidding? That’s admirable! Unless…that’s what has you out here when the party is clearly inside?” You connected the dots, hearing some laughter beyond her door, quickly analyzing her face and kicking yourself for not keeping your inside thoughts to yourself in that moment.

Sydney pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and closes her eyes.

“You know…you never did get back to me on you being a board game person or a video gamer.” Your attempt to ease her anxieties was a nice gesture, really.

Sydney took her time (which you were patient to), sucking air in between her teeth and digging her palms into her eye sockets, “uh…board game. My favorite is: Sorry!”

Your eyes turn into slits at that and Sydney, slowly removes her hands from her eyes to look at you. “Really?”

“What? What’s wrong with sorry?”

You start to raise your hands in surrender but stop your movements as your everything aches, “Nothing. I would have thought clue, connect four, maybe even scrabble?”

“Scrabble?” Sydney scoffs, “I rather eat a block of blue cheese without a glass of water.”

Scrunching up your lips at that you quiz, “are you lactose intolerant?”

“Only the weak minded are.”

“Oh?! That’s not very empathic of you.”

You both match each other’s stares but you crack a smile first before Sydney follows through with a burst of laughter.

“You’re judging me? when you’re the one who isn’t empathic to your stomach and makes a grilled jelly sandwich stuffed with jalapeño chips of all things?” Sydney holds her stomach as she laughs.

You’re laughing with her while arguing, “I never specified if I stuffed it or not. It could have been on the side, thank you.”

Which only makes her laugh harder, the both of your shoulders touching as the sound echoes throughout the hall. There’s tears streaming down her cheeks again for different reasons while your stomach clenches with humor.

Of course that is broken up by someone clearing their throat. Both of you turn to Oscar who’s standing there holding his groceries.

“What’s so funny tonight ladies?”

You stop laughing so you can reply, “that outfit you thrifted.”

Oscar scowls, “now I see why my sister left you.”

“Fuck off! You’re probably the main one that supports her OnlyFans career.”

Sydney gasped at that while Oscar sent you a middle finger, leaving you two alone as he travels down the opposite hall to his apartment.

Glaring at him, he casts another glance in your direction and you do the honors of placing your own middle finger right against the lips you kissed at him. He quickly looks away, nearly throwing himself into his apartment with a slam of his door.

Leaning into Sydney again, you both laugh until it’s hard to breathe and that feeling is both familiar on both ends. Once you catch your breaths, you lean away to hold out your unscraped hand for her to shake, “Hey, Chef Sydney. It was nice talking to you and meeting you.”

“Likewise.” She gives a small smile while shaking your hand before you groan and moan getting back to your feet.

And she stays outside a little longer, mostly to collect herself and watch you make it back to your front door and battered bike. You send a peace sign as a goodnight, limping into your apartment after softly clicking your door shut.

Sydney sits, clasping her hands together thinking over that small moment, not realizing how important it would later be as the days continued on.

“There you are,” The British voice catches her attention and she takes his hand as he helps her to her feet.

Luca halts her movements, checking in with Sydney as she tries to brush away what that was from her face, although it clearly wasn’t something she could ignore as the problem was already on the surface.

She begins to follow Luca back into the party, stopping in the door way as she peeks back at your door, already thinking about what to say to you next on a lime green post it, while letting some laughter shine in her eyes.

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Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #sydney adamu #sydney adamu x reader #Sydney adamu x f reader #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season 3 #the bear s3 #summer writings #the bear fanfiction #ayo edebiri

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oneforthemunny · 2 years ago

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clandestine meetings |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader| part 3

prompt: sneaking around with eddie catches up to the two of you.

age gap, but everything is consensual. reader is 25-26. eddie is 42. if this isn't for you, don't read.

contains: age gap, swearing, p in v sex, slight angst. Minors DNI

You liked being with Eddie.

You liked that he was sweet, kind, a little rough when he needed to be. He could be funny and caring. He treated you nicely, left your heart fluttering and head spinning. It was exciting.

You'd only told your best friend a week earlier, a giggly confession that was met with gasps and wide eyes. "He's how old?" She gawked, nearly spilling her wine in the process.

You'd grinned. "He's only, like, forty...two."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Is he good?" She asked in a low tone, looking around the bar.

You shook your head, biting your lip. "Really good."

And he was.

Eddie didn’t rush like the other guys did- guys your own age. Always fast and greedy, not caring about you only chasing their own high. Eddie always made sure you came at least once before he’d fuck you, always knowing the perfect pace, angles, positions that made you gush and scream, clamped around him and gripping on his shoulders or back until you saw stars.

Your head would reel, babbling mindlessly as he’d fuck you into the mattress. “There, right there, Eddie, fuck.” Tears streaming down your face as you gripped his wrist that was rubbing lazy circles around your clit.

“Right there?” Eddie grunted, a smile on his face as he delivered a particularly hard thrust that had you giving a low, throaty moan.

“Yes.” You whined, high and whiny, the way he liked it. You’d learned that about him now. “So fuckin’ good. Please don’t stop.” You begged.

You felt so full, full of him. His cock was pounding your sweet spot, making you see stars. You were close, you had been for hours. Since you’d came to his house after your shift at the cafe, he’d been on you. He’d gone down on you in the kitchen, you were bent over the kitchen table clawing the wooden table as his tongue worked in you.

You were hooked.

Sex aside, though it was mind blowing, Eddie was sweet to you. Always opening your door, pressing kiss disguised compliments to your cheek that left you blushing. He’d give you his jacket when you were cold- because you always forgot yours. He’d take your hands in his, rubbing his calloused palms over your to keep you warm, flashing you a grin.

“You gotta get you some gloves, baby.” Eddie tutted, voice raspy with years of nicotine intake. “Gonna get sick.”

You’d blushed, shrugging. “I can put them in my pockets.” Shoving them into your- his jacket.

Eddie snorted, giving you a pointed look. “Yeah? In the jacket you always forget?”

The next day he’d picked you up, knitted gloves sitting in your seat. “Figured you needed some.” Eddie shrugged when you’d thanked him.

The best part, was that you were each others. No one knew. You didn’t want them to. You liked just being with each other, the two of you. Something for the two of you that the world didn't know about yet.

You’d stay the night, Friday nights, when Eddie didn’t work the Saturday shift. You’d wake up tangled in his sheets, padding down the the kitchen in one of his shirts, pouring a cup of coffee. Sometimes you’d sit on the back porch with him, curled up in the seat next to him while he smoked, slow. Other times you’d sit at the table.

You stretched, pulling on your panties and a discarded shirt. Eddie always left one out for you, soft with age and wear. This one was a hole filled Metallica one. It smelled like laundry detergent and Eddie.

You were floating, warm and smiley. Practically gliding down into the kitchen. The hallway from his room to the living room was filled with pictures. Most of Brielle, moments captured from when she was little up to a prom picture from the year prior. You'd seen Gina in a few, stunning and striking features. Eddie with an older man in a few. You'd steal glances at them when you could, enthralled with trying to memorize every detail of them because they were details of him.

The front door opened, you turned, smiling, ready to greet Eddie. Your face fell as you met a different pair of puddle eyes.

“What the fuck?” Brielle jumped, eyes widening as she stumbled back out of the door.

Your breath left your lungs, eyes wide. Brielle turned, looking back at the driveway in disbelief, eyes flashing with shock.

“Are you-“ Brielle shook her head, curls that matched Eddie’s falling around her. “What the fuck is going on? What are you doing here?”

“Brielle, I-I-“

“Did you get your coffee?” Eddie’s soft voice filled the space as he stepped in off the back porch. “I left you a mug on the-“ He stopped, face falling.

Brielle’s mouth fell, eyes darting from you to Eddie. “Oh, I’m gonna be sick.” She groaned, cringing in disgust, turning on her heel to walk out the front door.

“Brielle…” Eddie sighed, heavy footsteps following her out the door. “Brielle, just wait a second.”

You were frozen in place, head reeling with embarrassment, realization. You could hear the voices of the father-daughter duo outside, Eddie’s soothing voice blending with Brielle’s high pitched voice.

“… Brielle, just calm down-“

“Have you lost your mind?” Brielle shrilled. “She’s Maddy’s sister- she’s like twenty-”

“No, she’s not.” Eddie huffed. “Brielle, this really isn’t your business-“

“What?” Brielle exclaimed, making you cringe. “You’ve lost it. I don’t know if this is a midlife crisis, but you’ve lost your damn mind.”

"Brielle Jo, get back here. I'm talkin' to you." Eddie's voice was hard, stern with a gruff edge you hadn't seen since the first time you'd met. His hand pushed her car door open, eyes narrowing at her. "I thought you were at your mama's today."

"I forgot my textbook." Brielle glared. "I tried to call you, but..." Her eyes cut to you, shivering in disgust. "I'm leaving." She declared, reaching for the door handle.

Eddie's shoulders slumped in defeat, moving so she could slam the door. Hands ran down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. You shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. "Maybe I should go." You suggested, your voice soft and timid, fingers nervously playing with the neckline of his shirt.

Eddie nodded. "I think that would be for the best, baby." He gave a small smile that made your heart flutter. "I just need to talk to Brie for a little bit. She... She's dramatic, y'know? Teenager."

You smiled, nodding.

Your own reckoning came later that day.

You'd went back to your apartment, busying yourself with every task you could to keep your mind from spiraling further, anxious thoughts consuming every part of you.

Your phone buzzed, Madeline's name flashing across the screen. You didn't think, answering as you folded your towels.

"Hello?"

"Are you ok?" Madeline's voice was calm.

You furrowed your brows. "Yeah, why?" You asked, pulling another fluffy towel out of the basket.

A pause. "I was just checking, because I'm pretty sure you've lost your fucking mind."

Ice ran through your veins, spine straightening in realization. "Maddy, I-"

"Brielle's dad?" Madeline boomed, screaming into the speaker so loud you flinched. "Have you lost your mind? Like seriously, what the fuck? Why-Why are you doing this?"

You stuttered, heart hammering. "Madeleine, I-I just... It's none of your business, ok-"

"It most certainly is!" Madeline screeched. "You're fucking my best friend's dad! I get a call from Brielle, and she's going insane telling me that her dad is having a midlife crisis fucking my sister!"

"It-It's not like that, ok?" You stammered.

"Not like that?" Madeline repeated with a huff.

"It's not." You said defensively. "It's... He's really sweet, ok? He treats me really nice, and-and... I'm not having this conversation with you. It's none of your business. We're not doing anything wrong!" You snapped, flustered and frustrated.

Madeline paused. "Then tell Mom and Dad." She challenged.

You gaped. "What are we seven? You're going to tattle to Mom and Dad on me?"

"No, but tell them! I mean, you're so proud of this, tell them!" Madeline sneered. "Tell them how you're fuckin' Brie's dad!"

"I'm not telling them that!" You shot back.

"Why? Because you're not doing anything wrong? Well, then tell them!" Madeline snapped. "Are you scared they'll be upset? Maybe because he's the same fuckin' age as Dad-"

"Eddie is not the same age as Dad." You snapped with a huff. "He's only forty-two."

"Eddie?" Madeline gasped. You cringed, listening to her near mocking laugh back at you. "You're fucked up for this, you really are. Did you ever think about how this could effect my friendship?"

Your heart plummeted, guilt sinking and filling your body. You hadn't really, outside of the fleeting thought at the beginning. You bit your lip, not sure what to say. Madeline scoffed, hanging up before you could reply.

You looked at the phone, towel still clutched, unfolded in your hand. Your little Garden of Eden you and Eddie had created with sweet touches and hidden words was gone, crumbled and left you with an aching reality.

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sykesandskittles · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER 4

Harlow

Sorry. Going to sleep. Talk tomorrow.

I blink down at the text. It’s weirdly abrupt for her, but it’s late, and honestly, I’m just relieved she’s alive and back in her room. I haven’t texted her about what happened earlier, because, frankly, I’m not in the best mental space to type it all out. I’ll tell her in person tomorrow when I see her.

As soon as I got back to my room, though, I did have a text from Noah.

Are you ok?

I just ignored it and then blocked his number immediately. It just goes to show how right my first instincts about him were—he’s fucking trouble, and I don’t want anything to do with his twisted world.

I want to stay as far away from Noah Sabastian as humanly possible.

The next morning, on my way to class, I stop by Talia 's door. It’s locked, and my gentle knocks go unanswered, so I assume she’s just sleeping. She was out late, and she’s never been a morning person, so I decide to try back after lunch.

Class is a complete bore, and I’m barely paying attention—thinking about everything that happened last night. What I did wrong, what I could have done differently…

But, honestly, none of what happened was my fault, and people like Tyler shouldn’t be allowed to walk freely on campus—which is why, after class is over, I walk right over to the campus security office.

When I walk in, I address the first security person I see--a woman, around forty, sitting behind a desk, wearing a black security uniform. “Good morning. How can I help you?”

“I was assaulted last night,” I say abruptly. I’m not sugarcoating anything. That fucker needs to pay for what he did. The only thing I deliberately leave out is any mention of Noah. God only knows why, but he was just defending me, and I don’t want to get him in trouble for that.

The woman’s gaze falls to the bruises on my arm, and her expression turns immediately to concern. She pulls me into a room, and gets my full account of what happened last night, then calls the police.

While we’re waiting for them to arrive, she shakes her head. “Must have been a full moon last night or something.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Security found a sophomore last night, nearly beaten to death on the edge of campus. Took him to the hospital, and it looks like he’ll pull through, but–” she slows out a breath “–he’s going to have a long road ahead.” Her gaze shifts to me. “You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

I shake my head, taken aback by her question. Damn. I knew Noah had kicked the guy’s ass, but I had no idea how badly. Though, truthfully, I don’t even know if it’s the same guy we’re talking about here. “I—I don’t know. I can’t even tell you who attacked me–only that his first name is Tyler.”

She nods, and pushes off the desk, then scribbles the description down on a piece of paper.

When the police come, I file a full report, and they take photos of my injuries, then vow to look into it. They were pretty horrified, as was campus security, so I have confidence they’ll do their best to investigate the incident.

“In the meantime, don’t walk anywhere by yourself at night,” the police officer says. “And we’ll be in touch when we know more.”

I nod. “Okay, thank you.”

As I walk out of the campus security office, I feel a weight being lifted. It felt good to get all of that off my chest, and know I did my part, so hopefully Tyler can’t do something like that again to anyone else.

I missed my second class, so I head straight to my third. It’s still early— I have about fifteen minutes until I can sneak in and grab my usual seat at the back of the classroom, so I just wait outside in the hallway. I’m staring down at my phone to check if Talia texted me this morning when I hear a familiar baritone.

“Hello, Little Rabbit.”

My head snaps up to see Noah walking toward me.

Fuck.

I push out a breath. “I’m not interested. Especially after what happened last night. You can just stay the fuck away from me.”

He holds up my stun gun and hands it to me. “You forgot this.” I glare at him. “Do you hear me at all when I speak?”

He leans against the wall, all casual self-assurance. I saw this guy nearly beat someone to death last night, and now, here he is, standing in front of me like nothing happened. Though I notice his knuckles are raw and red, so I guess he’s human after all.

“I thought I made myself clear last night,” he says. “—I chose you. You’re mine. That’s it. There’s nothing either of us can do about that now.”

I hold my binder against my chest protectively. It’s a flimsy barrier, but it’s something. “So un-choose me, then. There were plenty of girls begging to be chosen last night. Pick one of them.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t work that way, Little Rabbit.”

I pull a face, like what the fuck? “I thought you were, like…the most powerful guy on campus or something? Just tell everyone you saw me in the light of day and changed your mind.”

He laughs under his breath, just a puff of air, and his gaze flicks over me. His eyes linger on my face for a fraction too long. “They’d never believe that. ”

I pause. Was that a compliment? My cheeks flush under his scrutiny, but I force my features to remain neutral–as much as possible.

“Besides, there’s something you need to learn about ExU,” he says. “Here, we thrive on duty and tradition. You were–”

“I know, I know,” I interrupt. He’s like a broken record. “Chosen. Jesus. That fucking ceremony should come with a consent waiver. I had no idea what I was signing up for when I showed up at that house last night.”

He just shrugs, and I can practically hear his thoughts, sounds like a you problem.

“I went to security this morning,” I say, changing the subject. “and they said some guy was found beaten on the edge of campus. He’s int he hospital. Was that Tyler?”

He shrugs again. “Could be anyone. But, wherever that cunt Tyler is, he won’t be returning to ExU. The paperwork to have him expelled is being approved as we speak.”

My eyes go wide. Does he have that much power? He can just get someone kicked out of school without an investigation or anything? Damn. That’s brutal. Tyler deserves it, but still…

He must read the direction of my thoughts because he adds, “He knew better than to fuck with what's mine.”

I decide to ignore the “what’s mine” comment, because I know I’m not shifting his view on that—not immediately, anyway. “Well, I wish I’d known ExU is such a dangerous place. I would have picked another University.”

“It’s not dangerous if you play by the rules, Little Rabbit,” he says, pushing off the wall. “Keep your phone close. I’ll text you later.”

As he turns to walk away, I call after him, “Please don’t…text…me…” But he just continues to walk, like he’s not listening.

Goddamn.

Somehow I’ve gotten myself entangled with Noah Sabastian

. It’s a fucking entanglement

——

THE REST of the day passes in a blur, and still no text from Talia . It’s mid- day by the time I catch up with her. I’m just heading back to my room when I stop by and knock on her door. She answers, and the second I see her, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Goddamn, girl. You had me so stressed,” I say, pushing my way into her room. Her roommate is gone, thank goodness, so we have the small space to ourselves. I let my backpack fall to the floor, and I plop down on her bed. “Where the hell have you been?”

Talia shuts the door and comes to sit on the bed next to me. I immediately notice she’s not her usual bubbly self. “I was out late, and I decided to sleep in.”

I lean against her pillows. “Well, now that I know you’re okay, I’m pissed at you for ghosting me last night. I was waiting for you on the porch of that house when I was attacked by some asshole.”

“Attacked? ”

“Yeah, if Noah hadn’t jumped in, I don’t know…”

Tears well up in Talia 's eyes. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Harlow . I would have been there, really, but I was…kinda caught up in my own thing. Are you okay?”

Her tone is…off. I’ve known Talia long enough to know when something is wrong, and my gut is telling me something is very, very wrong. When she said “my own thing” her voice caught on the words, like she was trying not to cry. I sit up, now on full alert. “What happened last night?”

She just shakes her head and looks down at her hands. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just glad we’re both okay.”

I grab her wrist and inspect her for any bruises. There’s nothing. “What happened, Talia ? You can tell me.”

When she looks up at me, she smiles, pulling her wrist out of my grip. The smile is forced, and I can tell she’s trying to put on a brave face. “Nothing really happened. I’m just being stupid. Forget about it. I guess no more creepy secret society ceremonies for us, right?” She laughs a little.

I lean back against the pillows. “I hope not, but I don’t know. That Noah guy insists I belong to him now, so who knows what he’s going to make me do.”

Talia nods, but I can tell she isn’t really paying attention. She looks tired. Maybe that’s why she’s acting so unlike herself.

I stand up. “Why don’t you get some more sleep?”

She shimmies up into the spot on her bed that I just vacated. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll text you in a bit. Be sure to answer.” She closes her eyes. “Mmm-hm.”

Grabbing my bag, I duck out of the room, unsettled by that entire interaction. Talia is usually an open book. A very bubbly open book, and it’s not like her to be so secretive. It’s weird. And I decide I’m going to get to the bottom of whatever happened last night. But first, she needs sleep. It might help her feel like herself again.

I immediately dart over to my English class. English has never been my strongest subject, but it’s one of those annoying required classes. When I’d enrolled, I’d decided to get all those pesky classes out of the way first, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them later.

This class is packed, but I manage to find a seat way up in the nosebleed section, which, unfortunately, means I need to snake past about a dozen

people.

We’re about halfway through class when the girl next to me leans over, and whispers to me. “Hey, you’re the one dating Noah Sabastian , right?”

I glance over, and I’m actually taken aback by her beauty. Long blond wavy hair, wide blue eyes, and a pair of outy pink lips that make her look younger than I’m sure she is. But the worst part, she’s beautiful without even trying. Minimal makeup, shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops. And she smells like the beach somehow.

“Um, I…” I’m technically dating Noah, according to him, I guess. But I don’t exactly want that information spreading–even though it sounds like it already has.

I don’t know what to say, so I just side-step the question altogether. “I’m Harlow .”

“Yeah, I know. You’re fucking royalty around here.” She smacks her gum and smiles. “I’m Skye.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say with an answering smile.

Royalty? How? I’ve been on campus for less than a week. Weird.

She leans in, and whispers, “Hey, do you think you could take notes for me? I gotta run.”

“Uh, sure.” I’m taking notes anyway, so why not ?

“Cool, thanks. Give me your phone and I’ll add my contact info.” I hand her my phone, and she types in her information quickly.

“Thanks, I just sent a text to my number, so I have your info. I’ll text you later.” She hands my phone back while she moves to get up, then seems to remember something and turns back to me. “Hey, our sorority is having a party tonight. You wanna come?”

Oh, God. Another party.

But it might be good for Talia to get out for a minute. Maybe it’ll cheer her up, and we’ll make sure to stay together this time.

“Okay. Thanks. Can I bring a friend?”

Skye’s face brightens. “Yeah, sure. I’ll text you the info.” “Great.”

And with that she’s gone, sneaking through the back door of the classroom.

Well. That was…nice. I guess I have a new friend now, which makes me smile to myself. I was a little worried I wouldn’t fit in at ExU. I have

fantasies about blending into the woodwork here, but Talia was right last night. I can’t spend my entire college experience in my dorm room.

After class, I head over to the coffee shop. I’m starving, but I have to make my scholarship money stretch, so cafe food isn’t an option. But, at this point, coffee is essential to life, so I decide to splurge on a small cup of plain drip coffee.

I’m in line when I feel a presence beside me. I glance over and see Noah standing next to me, a cheeky smile on his beautiful face.

“My God. What are you doing here?” I’m sure I have disgust written all over my face, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me close to him. Then he buries his face in my hair, and talks in a low tone. “Play along.” Pulling back, he smiles down at me. “My next class isn’t for an hour. I thought we could have coffee together.”

I just push out a breath and try to calm my racing heart. I hate my reaction to him. I can’t help feeling like every other girl at ExU, fawning over the campus god. It’s so unbelievably pathetic. But tell that to my two beaded nipples, poised and ready to cut fucking glass.

When we get up to the register, I order my drink, and then he proceeds to order practically every food item on the menu. I reach into my pocket to pay for my drink, but Noah waves me off, handing the cashier his debit card.

Turns out it’s peak coffee o’clock, so all the tables are taken. Noah isn’t deterred in the least. He walks toward one of the tables, and before he can even say anything, the three people sitting there immediately get up and offer it to us—even wiping it down with a napkin first.

What the fuck?

I take the chair closest to the wall. Having the wall behind me makes me feel less vulnerable, somehow. Noah sits in the chair across from me, leaning back comfortably, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I’m beginning to think I’ve stepped into an alternate universe,” I say with a sigh.

“Where’s your necklace?” Noah asks, ignoring my statement.

My hand flies to my throat, to the necklace that isn’t there. After putting in my purse last night, I hadn’t touched it. “It’s up in my room,” I answer .

He doesn’t look pleased by my answer–his dark brows drawn together in annoyance—but thankfully, he doesn’t push the issue. Maybe he knows

I’ll argue, and he doesn’t want me making a scene in front of everyone. Appearances seem to be everything here in this alternate universe.

Someone comes over with our coffee and a tray full of food—fruit, pastries, croissants, muffins, and slices of lemon poppyseed coffee cake. I eye a couple of the pastries, and my stomach growls, but I deliberately don’t reach for anything.

Noah watches me. “Eat something.”

I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving his. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

He sits back deeper in his chair, his jaw working. He doesn’t like hearing the word no and I file that away in my brain. If Noah thinks I’m going to be one of those girls at the Prefrence Ceremony, throwing myself at him, then he's fucked in the head. I don’t roll like that, and it’s probably better for both of us in the long run if he figures that out now.

“Harlow ,” he says slowly. I can hear the frustration in his tone. “You need to eat.”

I lift my chin. “What if I’m not hungry?”

There’s something about accepting food from this guy that feels, I don’t know…intimate, I guess. I’m not sure why I feel that way. Maybe it’s a remnant from my childhood. We never had much food in the house. Before my mom ditched me for a cult in Florida, she raised me as a single parent, and there were times when the gulf between paychecks was so wide that we had to depend on food banks.

So, yeah, seeing all this food on the table just feels indulgent. I’m dying to sink my teeth into the chocolate croissant in front of me, but my pride won’t allow me to reach out and take it. So instead, I just take another sip of my coffee.

“I know you’re hungry,” he replies with a bored tone. “I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

I swallow back the embarrassment that suddenly rises in my throat. Damn. He can hear my stomach growling? Could he be lying? Part of me wonders if he’s just telling me that to unsettle me, and throw me off balance.

I hate to admit it, but it’s working. I’m suddenly super self-conscious, and I can’t help it, my hand settles on my stomach.

“I didn’t have breakfast,” I offer in response.

He leans forward and pushes the chocolate croissant closer to me. With a sigh, I pick it up and take a bite. The chocolate melts on my tongue and combined with the buttery goodness of the flaky croissant, I almost moan. Almost. I manage to bite it back.

“Good, now we can talk,” he says, seemingly satisfied. I hate that I gave in to anything he demanded, but whatever. It’s the last time, so he should enjoy it while he can.

He pauses, just sitting there, watching me eat. He doesn’t eat anything himself, which is a little strange, considering he ordered all this food. But I don’t mention it, because, honestly, I don’t care enough about what he does or doesn’t do to bring it up.

“Well, whatever it is, get on with it, because I have a class in–” I glance at my phone “–twenty minutes.”

Annoyance crosses over his face. I guess he doesn’t like being rushed, either. This guy is a real piece of work.

“I want you to come over to my place tonight. Meet the guys.”

“Yeah, no. I can’t.” I finish the croissant and brush my hands together, dusting off the crumbs. “I have a thing tonight.”

He pulls a face like he can’t believe I actually have a life outside of classes. “What thing?”

I take a sip of my coffee. “Don’t worry about it.” “Harlow …” He says my name like a warning.

I push out a frustrated breath. “It’s not really your business, is it?”

He leans forward, his forearms resting on the round table. “See, that’s the thing, you are my business, Little Rabbit. In fact, everything you do is my business.”

I don’t know this guy at all, but I can tell I’ve already managed to piss him off. It’s probably not hard to do, to be fair. He seems like the kind of person who's always on edge.

I scrunch my nose and answer his question, but only because I don’t want to argue in front of all these people–especially since they’re all still watching us as they sip their coffees.

“I was invited to a party,” I say. He raises a dark brow. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Some girl from my English class invited me. Her sorority is throwing a thing tonight, I guess.”

I hope that by mentioning the sorority, he chills out. It’s a girl thing, so he shouldn’t be worried about other guys being there—not that it’s his call to make. He and I aren’t actually dating. I don’t even know him, for God’s sake. All I know is that his name is Noah Sabastian , he’s royalty on campus, and he’s a controlling douche. Not exactly fuck-me-please material.

He does have one redeeming quality, though. He’s beautiful. Like, cover-of-a-magazine beautiful. Even as he sits across from me, his messy dark hair falls over his forehead just so, making him look disheveled, but in a I-don’t-give-a-fuck kind of way. It’s entrancing.

But I know how fucked up handsome guys can be on the inside, where the shadows lurk, and honestly, I don’t want anything to do with it. I’ve been burned once, and I’m done with sexy-as-fuck guys. No, thanks. Give me a straight-up nerd any day of the week.

“Great,” he says, satisfied. “What time?”

I pause. He doesn’t think he’s going with me, does he? “I’m going with my friend Talia .” I mean, hopefully. She hasn’t agreed to go with me yet. But I’m sure I can convince her. She’s always down for a party.

He laughs a little as if to say, how cute. “Nice try. But you’re not going anywhere without me, Little Rabbit. I don't want to keep having to remind you—you’re mine now.”

It’s not the actual words that get me, it’s the look in his eyes. He means every fucking syllable. Before, I assumed this was all just for show. Like, it was just some elaborate way for him to save face in front of everyone. But that dark look in his eyes is clear.

Noah Sabastian thinks he owns me.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian smut #jolly karlsson #nick ruffilo #bad omens smut #nick folio #nick folio smut #noah x reader

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gingerteawrites · 13 days ago

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BY THE HEARTH: TANGLE

A/N: Hello my darling readers. It has been another eternity, but I hope you have been faring well! I took so long writing and re-writing this chapter, but I hope you enjoy this installment of BTH. As always, please share your thoughts with me, reading your comments is truly what keeps me going. Don't forget to check out the previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~4.4K words

Banner by @cafekitsune

ACT VIII

You trudged slowly through the quiet hallways, careful to make as little noise as humanly possible.

Slipping out of your room had not been an easy task. Especially holding the heavy doors with much effort to avoid them from loudly announcing your escape. A small oil lamp illuminated the way ahead, which you pulled closer to your body.

The act of sneaking out of your quarters in the dead of the night was downright terrifying. What if you ran into a maid? A guard? What if someone took you for a thief and charged at you? God, why did your mind ever even entertain this idea? Why on earth had you left the comfort of your bed?

In sum, it was all because of a craving. A very annoying one at that.

Mumbling a curse into the night air, you recalled the earlier events of the night. You had laid awake in your bed for what felt like hours, unable to shake the sudden hunger. Bread. The doughy goodness haunted your thoughts.

Maybe I should call a maid, you had considered, eyeing the large bell that rested by your bedside. You had no doubt that a servant would materialize out of the darkness if you only called. But waking someone for bread seemed capricious. They worked hard enough during the day.

So, you embarked on your solo escapade through the quiet castle, slipping past the few guards you knew kept watch on your wing during what you had observed was the shift turnover.

I just have to get to the kitchen. I’m sure there is some bread laying around somewhere. You steeled your resolve, walking a bit faster.

A few weeks ago you would not even have dared entertain the thought of this little escapade. But somehow, the cold corridors did not scare you the way they had that first night. Your trepidation was not from the prospect of the dark place swallowing you whole anymore.

Steps muffled by your bare feet against the cold marble tiles, you finally reached the main kitchen. You breathed your relief when you turned to close the wooden door, resting you forehead against it.

You turned around to look for your treat, but almost dropped the lamp with a yelp when you noticed a male silhouette standing a few feet away. Your heart rate picked up frantically.

Crap, crap, crap. A lone woman wandering in the castle. In the dead of the night. In nothing but a flimsy night gown. That was it, you were dying tonight.

You screwed your eyes shut, as if hoping not seeing the person would somehow prevent them from seeing you, while the worst case scenarios whirled in your mind.

“What are you doing here?” The calm voice questioned and you dared to open an eye. Squinting to make sure your eyes did not deceive you, you made out the golden hair and deep eyes that only one person you knew possessed.

“I- Your majesty?” The question was rhetorical.

He stepped fully into the small circle of light, his features coming alive against the lamp’s warm glow. He was out of his usual regal attire, white chemise tucked into a pair of simple trousers. You crossed your arms over yourself, conscious of your little clothing.

“Why are you here?” He took a step closer. “Alone?” Another step. “At this time?” Brow raised.

You bit your lip, obviously flustered. You thought about lying. Saying that you were looking for someone to help with something, but that was not even believable. You looked to the ground with a sigh, ready to confess.

“Bread,” Your voice came out quiet with shame.

“What?” Nanami believed maybe his ears were betraying him.

“I wanted to eat bread,” you chewed on the inside of your lip, speaking only a teeny bit louder.

You heard the king choke out a laugh, and your eyes shot up in surprise. Great! If he didn’t think I was ridiculous before, now it’s done.

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you call someone for that?” He asked, clearing his throat to dismiss the amusement in his voice.

“I didn’t want to wake anyone.” your back was still glued to the door. “They all work so hard already.”

“So you decided to wander out in the dead of the night, unaccompanied?” You understood the danger that he implied.

Already embarrassed beyond belief, the desire to eat escaped you. All you wanted now was to return to your sheets and spend the rest of the night mulling over how much of an idiot you were.

“I’ll head back then,” you turned to grab the handle.

“Wait,” the king called out. You paused. “It would be a waste of your efforts to not get your food, now wouldn’t it?” He spoke, his hand finding your wrist. Since that night at the banquet your mind became acutely aware of every time you made physical contact. Sending your heart into a bit of a frenzy. He pulled you away from the door, and towards the wooden table that served as kitchen island.

You followed his lead, resting on one of the stools. The cool of the wood seeped through your thin nightgown. You observed as he turned around and reached for a box on one of the shelves, opening it with ease to reveal a loaf of bread. He placed it at the center of the table and offered you a slice, silently serving you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, biting into the loaf. Since he insists, might as well enjoy, right? To your surprise, the bread you bit into was not stale, like you had half-expected. It was… warm? Nanami noticed the question in your features as you savored the soft delight.

“I have Alma bake some for me in the evenings,” he found himself explaining.

You nodded, cutting yourself another thick slice. “So… do you also come out to eat like this often?” The whole encounter set your nerves alight. And when you were nervous, you needed to talk.

“I enjoy the peace that the cover of night brings,” he cut a piece for himself, and spread some butter on it. “And bread with it is not too bad.” You grabbed your third slice, nodding along.

But now, your eyes also landed on the roll of butter. You could taste it already, the creaminess of the butter on your warm loaf, the slight saltiness. He pushed the food towards you, and you looked up at him again, realizing he had caught you staring.

How much can I embarrass myself in one night? You mentally face-palmed. Fighting your urges, you pushed it back towards him. “Thank you, but I’m alright.” His eyebrows raised slightly.

“You want it, you can have it,” He spoke matter-of-factly, pushing it back to you. “You can have virtually anything in this castle. You are the queen.”

“Anything?” The wording sparked something sudden in you. You placed your elbows on the table, forgoing propriety. Hell, you were already in nothing but your nightgown in the royal kitchen at an ungodly hour. Propriety was low on the list of priorities now. “Can I truly?”

“Yes,” he repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. Where were you going with this?

“Even…” you swallowed lightly, tasting the last pieces of bread you had left in your mouth. “Even the truth?” His gaze grew harder at your words, unsure of your thinking still but now suspicious.

“Virtually anything,” he repeated, and you smiled at the concession. He wouldn’t tell you anything he was not comfortable with. But you could work with that.

“Then I have a question, your majesty,” your arms returned to your lap as you faced him.

As more of your entourage opened up to you, you had the chance to learn more about this kingdom. But one topic escaped you every time. And perhaps, the only person you would be able to get answers out of was the king himself.

He nodded, crossing his arms, reflecting on how this exchange had just started feeling like one of his diplomatic meetings. He would have to keep an eye out for you. While at times you appeared soft and aloof, the temerity you displayed at other times was no small feat.

“Who is Kaori?”

If you could see beyond his facade, you would know Nanami’s heart stopped for a fraction of a second after the words left your mouth.

These days, the name usually left him indifferent. Over the course of years, he had somehow managed to bury everything behind the wall of indifference. But hearing it come out of your lips broke caused a crack to appear. Or maybe the crack had always been there, just carefully concealed. He replied, his voice calm.

“Kaori Kamo. The previous queen, Yuuji’s mother,” he explained.

The previous queen. Yuuji’s mother. But not my wife. My queen. Your brows furrowed gently. No term of endearment. Maybe Nanami was a cold man. But even for one as such, your heart felt something was off. But wait... Kaori Kamo? Like Marquess Kamo? A frown took over your features fully.

“Did she belong to the same family as the marquess I met during the banquet?” your intrigue grew by the second.

He was frankly surprised you had remembered. “They are…” He sighed softly. “Distant relatives if you will.” He noted the even deeper question in your features.

Normally, he would not have said more. Volunteering information that is not asked is one of the cardinal sins of diplomacy, after all.

But he had found himself acting strangely more than usual recently… Finding excuses to reach out for your hand. Entertaining unproductive small talk. At this point, his mind told him, how could saying a bit more hurt?

“She was adopted into his family given he only had sons. He is a very… Calculating man.” He looked deeply into your eyes, conveying a silent sense of warning.

Everything was coming into question in your mind. Maybe, just maybe their marriage had not been what you thought it to be. You now begun to think over your interactions with the palace servants. Their apprehension towards you had not been because of some residual loyalty to their dead queen, but because of perceived disapproval from the king. As soon as the king had shown favor towards you, their behavior had turned around. If the king notices the gears turning in your mind, he does not comment.

“So…” You had some of your answers. And with the noticeable tension that was thickening the air, you decided this should be all for the night. “What is your favorite kind of bread, your majesty. Or is there any meal you particularly fancy?” He let out an amused chortle. Was this really how you were going to shift the conversation. He unfolded his hands.

The both of you finished the loaf of bread, with you eventually indulging in the butter too. He gave short answers to your small inquiries. And you learned that though brief in his expressions, the king grew surprisingly passionate about garlic oil. Telling himself it was out of courtesy, he asked you about your favorite dishes, and you recalled your childhood favorites, suddenly swept in a wave of nostalgia.

The intent with which he listened egged you on, going on tangents and stories surrounding your favorite foods and some cherished memories. You missed home. Missed your family.

But now, in the warm, dark room you concluded that you did not hate this place. Sure, it was not home, but it wasn’t quite the purgatory you had feared it to be. You eventually pushed away from the table, body starting to grow heavy with fatigue. How long had you been talking for?

The king wordlessly stood, offering a hand to help you up. You grab it with a grateful smile, knowing that he knew. It was time to truly retire for the evening. During the walk back to your room, he stood a little closer than would be considered appropriate. Telling himself it was to shield you from the light wind. But even in his mind, he knew it was but an excuse.

Crawling into your bed, you fell asleep with stomach, heart and mind satisfied by the escapade and unexpected company.

Weeks spent in the castle felt lighter as the air grew even warmer. Your ever companion, Yuuji managed to pull you into almost every activity his busy schedule allowed for. You had ended up taking up archery because the tutor tired of seeing the child being your shadow during lessons. In another turn of events, evenings were now spent at dinner with the king and prince, as Yuuji refused to eat in the immense room without you around.

The relationship between you and the king was also thawing, growing into something almost akin to a partnership. At first all he did was entertain your nervous small talk. Little rambles you cringed at when the silence between you felt suffocating. But somehow, it had allowed for conversation to flow more easily between the two of you. A few more chance encounters late at night in the royal kitchen had even led him to escort you there from your room twice a week.

“If you are going to do it anyway, I might as well make sure you are safe, don’t you think?” Was all the justification he offered after finding you making an omelet one night.

Despite these little steps towards a sense of normalcy, you still felt the barrier. Evident in the thick silences when your curiosity led you to ask about some aspects of his childhood. Or about the previous queen, which you now avoided in fears of breaking whatever fragile bond you had forged.

You were having tea with Shoko in the garden, now in full bloom of roses and white tulips, when a group of maids walked through the nearest corridor, giggles and whispered words bubbling out of them. This was not your first time noting this sudden effervescence, so you turned to Shoko.

“Everyone seems so excited these days.” you watched the group disappear into the distance, picking up the delicate China to sip on hibiscus tea.

“This week-end marks the beginning of the flower festival, your majesty.” Shoko informed, taking a long draw from her long-stemmed porcelain pipe. You had tried picking up the habit out of curiosity, but ended up swiftly coughed your lungs out. Ieiri was a string woman in your mind for engaging in it with such ease and grace.

“Ahh…. right.” You nodded, recalling Riko gushing about being asked out for some sort of dance. “It sounds like such a wonderful celebration. We don’t have anything like this back home, but the idea is lovely.”

You were musing over the last time you had to dance when a Alma appraached your little table, bowing in greetings before handing you an envelope. You looked at it curiously for a second, then grabbed a butter knife to unseal it and reveal a hand-written note.

[Your majesty, As you may have heard, the Flower Festival is but a few days away. Traditionally, it is the duty of the king and queen to preside over the opening ceremony. I am certain the people would be greatly pleased to be graced by your presence if it so pleases you to join me. However, I also understand if you would prefer to not make a public appearance. Please inform Alma of your decision, and I will take care of the rest if you are willing to come. Sincerely, Kento Nanami.]

”If I’m willing to come? Of course, I want to come!” Your mind caught up to the fact that you had said that out loud a bit too late. And upon looking up, you found everyone’s eyes fixed on you with fleeting amusement.

You cleared your throat to push away the embarrassment, and called for paper and quill. Quick to pen down your acceptance of the invitation, you returned the envelope to Alma with a smile.

Now your mind was filled with images of vibrant petals littering the air and joyous dances. So the rest of the afternoon pivoted to discussing the traditions of the festival. You listened diligently to Shoko’s descriptions, but insecurity slowly creeped up the back of your neck. A growing sense of anxiety given the prospect of the people not liking you. The dread of somehow not living up to the ghost of the previous queen. Her shadow seemed ever-present. Everyone's avoidance of your questions only fed into it.

Upon noticing the distant look and cooling of your enthusiasm, your lady-in-waiting paused her explanations. Shoko leveled you with one of those looks she seemed to master so well. Where her eyes felt like they saw right into the depths of your soul.

“The mind is often a scarier place than the real world, your majesty.” she placed her pipe down. “I can assure you, you are far more than the people of this kingdom could ever wish for.”

Getting ready that morning had been a busy affair. You were swept up by a horde of maids, led by Alma as always and made up like a doll. Though they worked diligently, the helps’ eagerness passed over to you with every step completed. The dress they pulled out from the chest had you positively stunned, with the skirts falling down like rich and delicate Dahlia petals, and the bodice hugging your waist before curving up into a sweetheart neckline. The delicate rouge matched the rest of the accoutrement, and you stepped into the courtyard with a heart full of excitement. This was your first time going into the heart of the kingdom. Meeting those who made this place what it was.

The second Nanami laid eyes on you, he felt the circuits of his mind going haywire for an instant. It seemed the palace staff took great pleasure in dressing you up, but he could make absolutely no complaint, much to his demise. Yuuji, who stood quietly at his side ran to you immediately, shouting your name.

“You look like a flower!” The child hugged you when you crouched down to his height.

“I tried to match the occasion,” you pulled away from the hug to bow your head with a smile. “Are you not coming with us, my prince?” You asked, noticing he was in more casual clothing.

Yuuji pouted, his cute cheeks puffing up slightly. “Papa said that people would not want to see me.” You frowned lightly at the words, and Nanami approached you.

“I said it is not customary, Yuuji.” He placed a hand over the boy’s head, which did nothing to erase the pout from his face. “I promise to take you tomorrow. The opening ceremony is for adults only.”

You nodded, recalling the details from Shoko's explanations. Seeking to pacify the child, you placed a hand on his cheek. “Alma told me some of the younger servants are putting on a play this evening. Since I can’t see it, will you watch if for me and tell me what happened later?”

He brightened up slightly at your suggestion, and nodded with a mumbled okay. You entrusted the child to Alma, and Nanami offered a hand, helping you climb onto the royal coach.

The ride passed in silence, as you spent most of the time peering out of the window, taking in the unfamiliar sights. You had been brought into the castle on a cold night, and did not have much time nor heart to appreciate the scenery. But now, as you observed the tall trees and lush foliage, your heart sung with contentment. The king watched from across your seat, unable to contain the little smile that graced his lips. But the time with you in such forced proximity also worked to feed the engine of his thoughts.

He liked you. Despite himself and despite his reservations, he liked your company. The king had grown eternally grateful for your kindness towards Yuuji, and toward himself.

But the guilt of what he considered a fragmentary fatherhood gnawed at his insides. With how much time you now spent with his son, Nanami felt relegated to a secondary role as parent. And despite himself, with that came a malignant bitterness which had started to take root at the confines of his heart. And the mere fact that he was attracted to you did nothing to help the turmoil.

What have I found myself in? His mind lamented, watching your eyes grow round with curiosity and the happy smile that graced your plump lips.

The town finally came into view, and the sound of people cheering and and playing instruments made your heart race with joy. You sat straight, trying to remind yourself of etiquette but waved with a smile as you rode down the road. The carriage came to a stop, and guards formed a loose circle around you and the king. Your smile was ever bright as you waved at the crowd gathered around, their own delighted expressions and cheers adding to the festive mood. You could not even recall how long it had been since you had been outside like this. Away from all the bells and whistles of the aristocracy.

Nanami offered his hand, which you took, walking up to the platform decorated with wreaths of flowers and vibrant bows. The white surcoat he wore was made of radiant silk with white rose appliques along the chest and a belt that synched in his waist in a way that had you sneak a few looks. You admired how looked like the picture of royalty, while not being entirely gaudy. Reaching the stage, he helped you seat on the throne that had been placed for you and faced the crowd to make the speech which you now knew was customary for the event.

“May this new warmth bless our land with prosperity,” his voice commanded attention, all eyes fixed on the king as he uttered the words. “May the bonds that hold us together grow ever stronger,” you watched him intently. The curve of his jaw, the focus in his deep eyes. “May we be guided into the light by love.”

When he had said royalty “presided” over the event, you assumed you would mostly just sit and watch as the people carried out various activities. However, you had not expected everything to be quite so hands on. You were judge to a variety of performances, including a carving showcase, poem recitation and even twirling competition. Once the veteran twirler was announced as winner, she requested that her prize be inviting you for a twirl. Nanami was taken aback by her boldness, but you accepted enthusiastically. Despite being a bit unsteady in your attempts, your cheeks were hurting by the time you were done, from how much you smiled as the petals of your gown flew around you while the crowd cheered.

If only you had seen how the king had looked at you. How much satisfaction hearing the mirth in your laugh had brought his hardened heart. How conflicted he felt over this ever-growing affection for you. How much discomfort had settled in his bones over the thought of betraying his personal oath of solitude.

As dusk creeped over the horizon and the evening air grew cooler, the people and guards gathered wood and tinder at the center of the yard, and you were approached with a torch. Suddenly, you were tasked with lighting the massive ceremonial bonfire. You looked to the shy girl who held the blazing baton, not quite sure about how to proceed.

Without thinking, Nanami took the torch from the girl. He turned to you with a reassuring smile, the usually serious lines around his eyes easing. You felt your heart flutter.

“The people select a royal family member to light the fire as the sun sets to represent an ever-continuing dawn,” he explained. “They seem to have grown tired of me all these years and chose you. Here, I’ll help you with it.” He offered his other hand. The crowd, which had been busy enjoying other performances and eating gathered around the main area once more, watching intently as you neared the pyre.

Nanami handed you the torch, his fingers ghosting over yours as you placed it closer to the wood and watched it come ablaze, the evening gloom bursting in a wonderful scarlet hue. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire fueling you. Or the absolute feeling of elation that the night had brought. But you turned to face the crowd, torch still in hand.

“My dear people,” your voice resonated into the air, expression resolute. “I want to thank you for the kindness and love you have shown me today. As this fire burns bright, may the courage and hard work that is shared by us all keep ablaze.” Their silence carried awe. All eyes fixed on you. “May this dawn bring prosperity and grace to the land.” You turned to Nanami, the fire reflected in your eyes. “May we be guided into the light by love.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, petals thrown around you and instruments playing a celebratory tune. You breathed out a deep breath, handing the torch over to a guard. Nanami approached you, his golden hair looking almost orange from the glow of the fire. He wrapped an arm around your waist and took your other hand, wordlessly inviting you into a waltz.

“The last part of the ceremony is a dance,” his voice was low, eyes burning into yours. Your body relaxed against his, and you secured your other hand around his shoulder. “Your speech,” he continued, bringing you both close to the center of the space. “The people adored it.”

The words brought a smile to your face, and you dared to come closer. “But you, your majesty… How it make you feel?”

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of flowers from all around. Lilies, roses, marigold. Inhaling the scent of you. All around him, overwhelming his senses. Giving him no escape. “I adored it.” The words left his lips in a whisper, and you felt your stomach erupt in a flurry of butterflies.

And so you danced. Danced, danced and danced to the festive tune. Your heart alight with contentment. You spun, twirled and laughed. Laughed oh so joyfully. Somehow you had cracked his shell. Or perhaps the cracks had always been there. And it only took you taking some space for them to be split right open.

Kaori had been a painful thorn in his side for years, but it seemed that you… You were the soothing scent of lavender. The plush softness of chrysanthemums. The daring boldness of tiger lilies.

In the blazing night you danced, lighting all of Nanami’s thoughts ablaze. God, he liked you. And he simply did not know what to do with himself now.

A bit of a longer chapter, so I hope you liked it! please let me know what you think!

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

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sissyhopes · 2 months ago

Text

The Trophy

Imagine a gilded cage. Like, really picture one in your head. What do you see?

Me, of course - but what else?

Anything? Some cushions, a little blanket? Entertainment? No? Just a little golden cage, and me?

It's not that different, then, from a regular cage, is it? Just some metal bars, and me - trapped inside.

When I first started working for Harrington & Co, I was eager, hungry for success, and completely unaware of the path life would take me down. I had always known my boss, Max Harrington, by reputation - he was a titan in the finance world, a man whose mere presence commanded respect. I turned down higher-paying jobs for the name recognition alone, hoping his renowned ferocity and charisma would rub off on me.

So, when Max took a special interest in me, I saw it as the break he had been waiting for. Exactly what I deserved.

At first, it was subtle. Appropriate, even. I was a kind of protégé, some middle-ranking grunt he'd seen something extraordinary in. Nobody really questioned it.

Max invited me to dinners with important clients, praising my quick thinking, my easy charm, and how I could hold my own in conversations that usually left junior associates gasping for breath. I felt like I was being groomed for leadership, rather than groomed for submission to him.

I was intoxicated by the attention, the warmth of Max's approval. He had grown up in a modest family. He was just like me: always striving for more. He knew as well as I did that Max Harrington represented the “more” I'd craved my entire life.

I suppose you don't get where he has in life without being able to turn opportunities to maximum advantage. Soon, the invitations became more frequent. Dinners at high-end restaurants turned into weekend getaways to exclusive resorts. He spared no expense, ensuring I experienced the luxury that came with being in his orbit. It was exhilarating at first - flights on private jets, tailored suits, five-star accommodations. I assumed this was part of grooming him for a bigger role in the company. After all, the closer you got to power, the more you absorbed it.

But something shifted. He went distant. Suddenly, I was back at my desk, with everyone else, working hard, with no attention from the big man upstairs. My middling salary couldn't stretch to the luxuries I'd tasted, and I felt the dull thud back to reality daily. Every bland, cheap meal. Every bus journey home from the office. I hungered for a return to the life I had savoured, if only for a brief moment.

I poured over everything I'd said, every action and decision, wondering what I did to lose his favour. I resisted the urge to try to contact him, making myself look needy, powerless - to make him think I'd done something wrong.

One night, after a few too many glasses of wine, and weeks of misery in my boring life, I felt the bravery I'd been lacking. "He'll appreciate me being direct," I told myself. "Just like he is." I texted his personal number, asking if I'd done anything wrong, and imploring him for the chance to prove I was worthy of my place under his wing.

He never responded. It was a bitter defeat, a rejection that undermined my self-confidence totally. I tried to maintain my work, but I was distracted, ashamed and disappointed. My supervisors noticed, and my appraisals reflected that. I knew Mr Harrington read every staff members' appraisals religiously, and knew I had once again let him down. It was a total humiliation - I knew exactly where I belonged.

One evening, after a particularly lavish dinner held to congratulate the management teams for a good year, Max avoided looking at me all evening. Knowing I was the lowest-performing in the team, I felt so unwanted I tried to sneak away earlier. And there he was, at the door, as if he'd anticipated my movements before I'd even decided on them.

He offered me a gift: a custom-made Rolex. “To show my appreciation,” Max said, his smile dripping with an affection that felt almost too personal, too intimate.

I accepted - what choice did I have? - though unease simmered under my gratitude. I brushed it off as some kind of imposter syndrome.

Surely, this was normal. If I wanted to rise to the top, I needed to embrace these perks, right? In any case, it reflected the faintest creaking of the door of opportunity. I knew I had to run through that door while it was still open. I might never get another chance.

The watch was embossed with pink stones around the face, and the band was engraved 'Pretty Baby'. I suppose it was originally a gift for someone else - it wasn't quite my style, and yes: it was a little embarrassing to wear it. But wear it I did: every single day. I wanted everyone else to know that the boss was looking out for me.

Then came the more personal requests. Max asked me to accompany him to exclusive events - not as a colleague, but as his plus-one. I found himself standing at Max's side during charity galas, private art showings, and high-society functions. At first, I convinced himself it was still part of the job, that these were networking opportunities, moments to rub shoulders with the elite.

But over time, I realised something. Max never introduced me as an employee. There was no mention of my work or my potential career progression. Not even my name. My presence became decorative, my role as silent as it was visible. The compliments Max lavished on me became more personal, less professional.

“You look just stunning in that suit,” Max would say, his eyes lingering just a little too long. “You're the perfect companion for these sort of things. I think we can assume - if you're willing, of course - that you'll be accompanying me for the forseeable. I'll have my assistant arrange for some wardrobe support for you. Maybe a stylist. Let's make sure you always look your very best.”

I blushed. It was the first thing he'd said directly to me all evening - the first thing anyone had, in fact. I felt cared for, but not respected. The words flashed across my mind, for the first time in panic. Pretty Baby.

Before I knew it, he was spending more time with Max outside the office than within it. The boundaries had totally blurred without my realising it.

My friends noticed the change. “Man, you've really hit the jackpot, huh?” one had commented, eyeing my expensive, feminine watch, the designer clothes Max had picked out for me as a "reward for all the hard work.”

But inside, I felt a growing discomfort, a sense that something had gone terribly wrong. I guess it was from the discomfort, actually. My suits were increasingly tailored away from my personal style - cinched waists, skinnier trousers with high waists and raised ankles - in pastel colours like baby blue, mauve, and a dusty pink. They felt feminine to me, and the discomfort pulsed through my body. At least nobody expected me to say anything. Just stand next to Max, smiling.

I had entered into this personal relationship with Max - because by now, that’s what it had become - thinking it would propel me forward in my career. But now, two years later, I wasn't any closer to that promotion he had been promised. If I asked, he would just wave away my concerns, like they didn't matter.

"No, no." he'd say, without looking at me. "I don't want you working more. You have an important role to play here."

My 'role' was clear: I was Max's accessory. Some kind of power symbol for him to show off.

The realisation hit him hard one night when they attended a high-profile charity auction. I had spent hours getting ready, picking out the right suit, ensuring my hair - now growing longer, as Mr Harrington instructed - was perfect. As they entered the grand ballroom, heads turned, and Max soaked up the attention as usual. But when people approached them, it was me they noticed.

“You two make such a handsome couple,” one wealthy and highly generous woman said with a wink.

I forced a smile, my stomach knotting as Max wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. It was a gesture too intimate, too possessive.

I wanted to pull away, but the weight of everything Max had given him, the lifestyle I had become so accustomed to, pinned me in place. I realised that somewhere along the line, I'd forgotten how to say no to him.

Now, he knew that too.

In the quiet moments, I wondered when it had all changed. Had there been a moment when I could have stopped this? Should I have walked away before Max’s gifts became chains that bound me to this life? Or had I been a willing participant all along, seduced by the promise of wealth, power, and status?

The trousers were replaced with demure, knee-length pencil skirts. My shirts finally crossed the line into blouses. I wore court shoes, with two inch heels, into the office. My stylist taught me to apply makeup in two styles - office and formal.

Maybe that sounds like the moment I should have jumped off this runaway train, even if it hurt. The thing is: I was so far gone, I already knew my moment had passed. I didn't even know who he was anymore. So I kept letting him tell everyone else who I was, and contorting myself to fit the image.

The eager, ambitious man who had walked into Harrington & Co. two years ago had vanished, replaced by someone who wore expensive gowns, lived alone in a penthouse Max had insisted he move into, and played the role of the doting, adoring partner - though they never acknowledged the term aloud.

My career had become a shadow, something I barely thought about now. I wasn't obliged to come to the office anymore. My days were filled with social obligations, dinners, and luxurious trips with Max. On the outside, it looked perfect - he had everything he had ever wanted. But the cost had been higher than he realised. I had no independence. I had no status of my own. I just hung on his arm, silently, as an object of his power.

Somewhere along the way, I had become a trophy. I could see it in everyone's eyes. Elite circles are small, and so they'd all watched me closely over the years - from a confident, ambitious man, to a demure and silent pet. I knew what they thought of me.

It wasn’t just my professional ambitions that had died. It was my sense of self. The reluctance, the embarrassment that now consumed me was kept buried deep inside, masked behind the practiced, doll-like smile he wore in public. Max never asked if I was happy; he never questioned if I wanted this life. That didn't matter to him, so long as I knew my place and played along.

Now, every morning I wake up in the sprawling penthouse, looking out at the city skyline, and wonder how to pass the time. No work, no real friends, nothing to achieve. No hopes or dreams. Money helps, but the truth would nibble at my flesh constantly - I had traded the man I could have been for the guarantee of luxury, for comfort, for the hollow promise of a womanhood I never wanted, and that depended entirely on his whims.

And in the silence of our opulent life together, in those intimate nights when Mr Harrington accompanies me to my penthouse, in the deafening shadow of the whispers about me from the edges of ballrooms and galas each night, I had come to accept my role: Max’s trophy. Nothing more.

---

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kathlare · 23 days ago

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taking the leap

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie faces a pivotal moment as she opens up to her family about her relationship with Lando. Navigating a mix of reactions, from skepticism to cautious support, she stands her ground with vulnerability and determination.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

February 12th, 2024 - Mérida, México

The air in Mérida felt heavy that evening, as if it could sense the tension Amelie carried in her chest. She stood in the kitchen of her family’s sprawling home, her hands clutching her phone as she nervously reread the text she’d sent Lando earlier.

Ames💛: About to tell them. Wish me luck. Lan🧡: Good luck, love. You’ll be fine. And if not, I’ll fly over and charm them myself. Ames💛: You’re not that charming. Lan🧡: You fell for it.

She bit back a smile, her nerves easing slightly at his confidence. But then her father’s voice boomed from the dining room, calling everyone to gather, and the knot in her stomach tightened again.

Her mum already knew, of course. Julie, Amelie’s meddling but endearing grandmother, had spilled the beans over the holidays when Victoria visited London. While her mum had been understanding and even a little amused, her dad, Stella, and Callum were wild cards. They weren’t hostile to Lando—they’d liked him well enough when he and Amelie were just friends—but this was different.

It wasn’t just “Lando, the friend.” It was “Lando, the boyfriend.” And Amelie wasn’t sure how they’d take it.

As she walked into the dining room, the voices of her siblings filled the air. Callum was recounting some work story, Stella was wrangling Carlota into a seat, and Jack was trying to outpace Elysia in finishing a slice of pan dulce.

—What’s with the serious face, Ames?— Jack teased as she walked in, plopping herself down beside her dad. —You look like you’re about to deliver bad news.—

—Depends on how you take it,— Amelie quipped, her voice steady but her hands fidgeting with the edge of her shirt.

Elysia looked up, sensing the shift in energy. —What’s going on? Did something happen?—

Victoria, seated at the head of the table, gave Amelie an encouraging nod. Amelie swallowed hard, willing her voice to stay firm.

—I have something to tell you all,— she began, glancing around the table. Her dad’s eyebrows knit together in mild concern, while Callum tilted his head curiously.

—Spit it out already,— Stella said, though her tone wasn’t unkind.

—Lando and I are dating,— Amelie blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush.

The room fell silent, save for the faint clink of Emilio dropping his spoon on his plate.

—You’re what?— Elias finally said, his tone a mix of disbelief and something harder to place.

—We’re dating,— Amelie repeated, her voice quieter but firm. —It’s serious. And it’s been serious for a few months now.—

Callum leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. —Since when?—

—November,— she admitted, feeling the weight of their stares.

—So, this whole time you’ve been sneaking around?— Stella asked, raising an eyebrow. —When we thought you were just friends again?—

—We weren’t sneaking around,— Amelie said, though her voice faltered slightly. —We just... wanted to be sure before telling everyone.—

—And you’re sure now?— her dad asked, his tone sharper than usual.

Amelie met his gaze head-on. —Yes, I am.—

—Why now?— Callum asked, his skepticism evident.

—Because it’s serious, and because Lando’s important to me,— she said, her voice gaining strength. —I didn’t want to hide it anymore.—

Her dad leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. —Amelie, I know you think this is serious, but relationships like this... they’re complicated. Lando’s life is...—

—Busy? Chaotic?— Amelie interjected, her frustration bubbling to the surface. —So is mine. But we’re making it work.—

Victoria finally spoke up, her voice calm but firm. —Elias, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Amelie’s an adult. She knows what she’s doing.—

—Does she?— Elias countered, his gaze still fixed on Amelie. —Because the last time you two were involved, it didn’t end well.—

Amelie flinched at the reminder, but she didn’t back down. —We’re different now. We’ve talked about everything, about what went wrong before, about what we want now. This isn’t the same.—

—And if it ends the same?— Stella asked, her tone not unkind but cautious.

—Then it does,— Amelie said simply. —But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.—

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Finally, Jack broke the tension with a low whistle. —Damn, Ames. Didn’t think you had that kind of speech in you.—

—Me neither,— Elysia added with a small smile.

Elias sighed, leaning back in his chair. —I just want you to be happy. But more than that, I want you to be sure. You’ve got a lot going on, Amelie. Don’t let this distract you.—

—I’m happy, Dad,— she said softly. —And I’m sure.—

Victoria reached over, squeezing her husband’s hand. —Then that’s what matters.—

Stella still looked skeptical, but she didn’t press further. Callum, however, leaned over to Amelie, his voice low. —If he screws up again, I’ll kill him.—

Amelie couldn’t help but laugh, the tension finally breaking. —Noted.—

As the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, Amelie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Lan🧡: Still alive? Ames💛: Barely. But I think they’ll come around. Lan🧡: Told you. I’ll charm them if I have to. Ames💛: Might take more than charm. Lan🧡: Good thing I’m persistent.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket, her heart feeling lighter. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she was ready. And for the first time, she felt like her family might be, too.

Dinner wrapped up more smoothly than Amelie had anticipated. The initial shock had given way to a semblance of normalcy, though she could tell her dad was still processing. Callum had gone back to discussing his latest architectural project, Stella was busy trying to convince Chequito to eat his vegetables, and Jack and Elysia were now bickering over who got the last piece of dessert.

But when her dad stood and quietly motioned for her to join him on the patio, Amelie knew the conversation wasn’t quite over.

She followed him outside, the humid Yucatán air wrapping around her as they stepped into the dimly lit garden. Her dad leaned against the railing, his face unreadable in the soft glow of the patio lights.

—You know I’m not against this, right?— Elias said after a long silence, his voice quieter than before.

—I know,— Amelie replied, crossing her arms as she stood next to him. —But you’re worried.—

He glanced at her, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips. —You’ve always been able to read me too well.—

—It’s because you make it so obvious,— she teased lightly, though her smile quickly faded. —But I get it, Dad. You’ve seen me mess up before.—

—It’s not about messing up,— he said, shaking his head. —It’s about the fact that I’ve watched you work so hard for everything you’ve achieved. You’ve fought for your place in this world, Ames. And I don’t want you to lose focus.—

Amelie sighed, leaning her elbows on the railing. —I won’t. Lando doesn’t take away from that. If anything, he... he reminds me why I love what I do. He gets it, the crazy schedules, the pressure. He supports me. He makes me happy.—

Elias looked at her for a long moment before speaking. —He makes you happy now. But what about later? When things get harder? You’ve both got lives that pull you in opposite directions. How do you make that work?—

—We figure it out as we go,— Amelie said, meeting his gaze. —That’s all we can do. I know it’s not going to be easy, but nothing worth having ever is.—

Her dad sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. —You’re stubborn. Just like your mother.—

—You married her anyway,— Amelie pointed out with a grin.

—And look where that got me,— he said with a dramatic groan, though his smile betrayed him.

Amelie laughed, the tension between them finally easing. She reached over, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. —Thank you, Dad. For worrying. For caring. But you don’t have to anymore. I’ve got this.—

Elias hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. —I’ll always worry, Amelie. That’s my job. But if you’re happy, then that’s all that matters to me.—

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ntonlvr · 6 months ago

Text

Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly 2

synopsis: anton and y/n spark a secretive affair together word count: 4k status: 2/? (trying to update 2 times a week) genre: non idol au, fem reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers content warning: explicit sexual content, blow jobs, oral (fem), fingering, slight nipple play, man idk how to tag sorry

As the door clicked shut behind Anton, you leaned against it, trying to calm your racing heart. The memory of his kiss still lingered on your lips, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. It felt surreal, but you couldn’t linger on it for long. Sohee would be back downstairs any minute.

Sure enough, Sohee appeared at the top of the stairs, now dressed in his pajamas. “I was coming to help, but it looks like you and Anton did everything,” he said, glancing around.

“You only went upstairs to avoid helping, so don’t even try to lie,” you scoffed, folding the blue blanket.

“You two seemed to be having fun,” he remarked, completely unaware of the emotional storm you had just weathered.

“Yeah, it was a good time as always,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” Sohee said, plopping down on the couch. “But at least I got paid for a full shift.”

You nodded, your mind drifting back to Anton. “I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m going to head to bed,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Alright, goodnight,” Sohee called after you as you headed upstairs.

Once in your room, you climbed into bed, your mind buzzing with thoughts of Anton. You couldn’t wait to talk to him again, to see where this new development would lead. As you lay there, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You reached for it, hoping it was a message from Anton. Sure enough, his name lit up the screen.

____________________________________________________________________________

Texting

anton: I can’t stop thinking about tonight. Can we talk?

y/n: absolutely. im still wide awake.

anton: Same here. I still can’t believe we kissed. How are you feeling?

y/n: honestly, my heart is still racing. i havent been able to stop smiling lowkey…

anton: Me too. I’m going to say something, but don’t judge me haha

y/n: judgment free zone

anton: I have wanted to kiss you for a while now.

y/n: really? because me too, i’m glad i finally did

y/n: might i just add, i like the way your lips felt on me …

anton: Oh, I’m glad you think so. Maybe we should do it again.

y/n: god i wish i could have some of you right now. i wish we didn’t get interrupted …

anton: Trust me, I wish the same thing.

y/n: maybe we can just have a little fun now …

anton: Mmm, tell me what you have in mind.

y/n: i really want to feel your hands on me and your lips exploring every inch of me

anton: I want that too. I swear I can feel you right now.

y/n: i would love to feel you right now, i barely got the chance earlier

y/n: i need you now… what if you snuck over tonight? sohee is playing video games downstairs

anton: My one question. Are we both on the same page about keeping whatever this is a secret. Until we figure out what it is we want?

y/n: yes, i agree. but pls can you hurry over. i’ll run down and unlock the door.

____________________________________________________________________________

As Anton read Y/N’s last message, a surge of desire coursed through him. He glanced around his room, heart pounding with anticipation. The idea of sneaking over to your place ignited a thrilling excitement within him, but he knew they needed to be cautious.

Quickly, Anton grabbed his keys and silently crept down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped outside, leaving his car behind and opting to walk the short distance to your place. Every step felt charged, thoughts of your touch and their shared desires racing through his mind.

Arriving at your doorstep, Anton took a moment to collect himself, his heart racing at the thought of your touch. The house was dimly lit, the silence broken by the faint hum of appliances and Sohee yelling at whatever game he was playing in the basement. Anton tiptoed through the hallway and up the stairs into your bedroom.

After entering, Anton closes the door with deliberate care to dampen any noise from the latch. When he turns around, he finds you still in the oversized hoodie from earlier, now accompanied by a pair of light blue panties instead of the gray shorts.

Anton had always been the shy type, reserved and cautious in his interactions with others. But with you, it was different. There was something about the way you looked at him, the way your eyes held a feeling of warmth that emboldened him like nothing else. Your presence alone seemed to dissolve the barrieres he usually kept around himself.

Anton stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you in the low-lit room. The soft glow accentuated every curve he could see. His gaze lingered on you, a mix of desire and admiration evident in his eyes. Without a word, Anton crossed the room, swiftly taking off his shirt in the process. He reached out, his touch gentle yet determined, conveying a depth of emotion that words could not capture. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, sending a shiver down your spine as you pressed closer to him.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the heat building between you. His lips found yours, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since your last encounter. The kiss was hungry, passionate, filled with a longing that spoke volumes of unspoken desires and shared moments.

Anton’s lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” His voice, usually soft-spoken, carried a husky edge filled with some desperation.

Anton's hands roamed over your back, tracing the lines of your spine beneath the fabric of the hoodie. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through you, making your breath catch in your throat. Every caress, every touch seemed to deepen the connection between you, erasing any distance that had existed.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you whisper back, “Your hands feel so good, Anton.” your words hung in the air, as you traced patterns over his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles release under your touch.

Anton’s hand caressed her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips. “I have wanted to kiss you like this for so long,” he admitted, his voice thick with longing.

You smiled softly, eyes locking with his, “I’ve wanted this too,” you confessed, your voice above a whisper. You leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss, deeper and sloppier than before. Anton carries his touch under your hoodie and takes your breasts in hands, now carefully playing with your nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. You allow him better access to your body by taking off the hoodie, now exposed to the chill in the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, voiced with awe. He leaned in, this time pressing his kisses right on your chest. He takes in one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around. You arch into his touch, loving the way his gentle motion takes you over. His fingers dance along your sides, teasing the sensitive spots that make you gasp and moan in delight.

With a sudden surge of boldness, you gently push Anton back onto the bed. He looks at you, eyes wide with surprise and lust. You smile, teasing a glint in your eyes. Your fingers trace the outline of his jaw, moving down his neck to his chest. You place soft, lingering kisses along the path where your fingers had been, feeling him tense and relax at your touch. You savor the way he reacts, the way his breath hitches and his body responds.

You continue your journey downward, your kisses trailing from his chest to his abdomen. You can feel the heat of his skin, the way goosebumps appear as you leave wet kisses here and there. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pause, looking up at him with a mischievous smile. With just that look, Anton’s eyes darken with desire, lifting his hips to slide his pants down and kick them away.

As you take in the sight of him, your breath catches in your throat. You had always found Anton attractive, but seeing him like this–completely exposed, eyes filled with hunger, muscles taut with anticipation–leaves you momentarily stunned. The way his chest rises and falls rapidly, the glisten of sweat forming in his skin, the intensity in his gaze… it’s almost too much to take in. The reality of having such a powerful effect on him hits you with a force that takes your breath away. “Wow” is all you can manage to say at that moment.

Your eyes travel down, and when they reach his member, you’re taken aback by its size. Not truly getting to notice from your earlier encounter. You blink in surprise, a flush creeping up your cheeks. It’s larger than you expected, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to proceed. The sheer size of him is intimidating, yet only fuels your desire to pleasure him even more.

As you move closer to his most sensitive areas, you take your time, savoring the taste and feel of him. You start by trailing gentle, wet kisses along the length of his shaft, feeling him throb under your lips. He lets out a low groan, the sound sending a thrill through you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty essence of his arousal, and his reaction is immediate–a sharp intake of breath, his hips twitching involuntarily.

You wrap your hand around the base, feeling the thickness and heat of him. Slowly, you take him into your mouth, inch by inch, adjusting to his size. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, is intense. You hollow your cheeks and create a tight seal with your lips, moving down further, feeling him slide deeper into your throat. His hands find their way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, a gentle pressure guiding you but allowing you to maintain control.

You set a steady rhythm, your mouth moving up and down his length, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside. You vary the pressure and speed, taking him deep into your throat one moment and teasing his tip with light flicks of your tongue the next. His moans grow louder, his breaths more ragged, as you drive him closer to the edge.

You glance up at him, locking eyes as you continue your attack. The look of pure pleasure on his face, the way his muscles tense and hips lift to meet your movements. You increase the intensity, taking him deeper, your hand working in tandem with your mouth.

His moans become more urgent, his grip on your hair tightening. When you sense he’s closer you pull back slightly, focusing on the head, your tongue swirling and lips sucking with increased fervor. His whole body shudders, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips.

You pause for a moment, your hand still working him slowly, looking up at him with a playful yet serious expression. “Anton,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but filled with authority. “You need to be quiet.”

His eyes widen slightly, and he nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. You continue, this time more slowly, more sensually, your mouth working in perfect harmony with your hand. You maintain eye contact, watching as he bites his lip, trying to stifle his moans.

You resume your rhythm, your mouth moving up and down his length with renewed determination. His body tenses and relaxes under your touch, his attempts to stay quiet adding an extra layer of intensity to the moment. You can see the effort he’s making to remain silent, his face contorted with pleasure and concentration. You feel his body shudder again, signaling his impending climax. You increase your pace, your tongue paying more attention to the tip, your hand stroking the rest of his member. His grip tightens in the sheets, and you can see the strain in his eyes as he tries to keep from crying out.

When he finally releases, it’s with a muffled groan, his body convulsing with pleasure. You take in every drop, swallowing and continue to suck gently, milking him of every last bit of his release. As you lie there, you both breathing heavily, Anton looks you in your eyes, a mischievous smile now forming on his lips. “My turn,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with promise. Before you can respond, he rolls you onto your back, his hands exploring your body with a new purpose.

His fingers trail down your sides, sending shivers through you. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Remember, we have to be quiet.” The huskiness in his voice makes your breath catch, the anticipation building within you. His mouth moves to your neck, placing soft, teasing kisses along your skin. You bite your lip, stifling a moan as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear. His hands roam over your curves, caressing and kneading your flesh with a gentle yet firm touch.

He continues his journey downward, his kisses trailing from your neck to your collarbone, then lower to your breasts. Once again, his tongue flicks over one nipple while his hand massages the other one, the sensation making you arch into him. You struggle to keep your moans quiet, his touch so overwhelming, but so good. Opting for holding one of your hands over your mouth. Anton pauses, much like you had, looking up at you with a devilish grin. “You have to stay quiet,” he reminds you playfully, his voice barely above a whisper. The challenge in his eyes only makes you want him more.

He returns to his actions, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down your abdomen. When he reaches your hips, he takes his time, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin there. Your hands grip the sheets, your body begins trembling as you wait for what he does next. You had purposely chosen your light blue panties, knowing it was Anton’s favorite color. Anton’s fingers brushed against the edge of your panties, and he looked up. “Mmm, light blue, huh? Trying to drive me even more crazy?” he teased, his voice low.

You let out a little laugh, cheeks flushing. “Maybe,” you murmured, your gaze locking with his.

His touch became more deliberate, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned closer. “Well, it’s working,” he whispered, his eyes hard with desire. His fingers brushed against your panties, and he smirked. “God, you’re so wet for me already,” he says in a breathy tone. He let his fingers press gently against the damp fabric, feeling the heat emanating from you. “I can feel how much you want this,” he added, his tone laced with excitement. When his lips finally meet your core, a soft gasp escapes your lips. His tongue flicks out gently, exploring your folds with tender curiosity. You arch your back, a quiet moan slipping past your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Anton’s movements are deliberate and skilled, something you didn’t know until this very moment. His tongue tracing patterns that make your toes curl. He finds your clit, circling it with gentle pressure, and you bite your lip to mute a louder response. His fingers join in, gently parting your folds to expose your most sensitive spots. He dips a finger inside you, his touch sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

You squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations he evokes. Anton’s pace quickens slightly, his ministrations driving you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, trying desperately to maintain composure as pleasure builds within you.

As you near the peak, Anton’s tongue becomes insistent, his fingers working in tandem to bring you to the brink. You struggle to keep your breathing steady, the need to stay quiet intensifying the pleasure.

Finally, you can’t hold back any longer. With a soft cry that echoes into a stifled whimper, you release over Anton’s fingers, waves of ecstasy washing over you. Anton continues his gentle assault, prolonging your pleasure until you finally relax into your bed. His touch is gentle yet firm as he kisses your inner thigh, then comes up to capture your lips. You respond eagerly, pulling him closer as your hands slide up his back, feeling the tension in his muscles under your touch.

As you both lie together, catching your breath after the intensity of your passion, a thought crosses your mind. You shift slightly, breaking the silence in the room.

“Anton,” you mumble softly, your fingers tracing light patterns on his chest, “do you have a condom?”

Anton meets your gaze with a warm smile, his eyes hooded but still gleaming. He nods and reaches for his tossed pants, retrieving the condom. “Yes,” he replies in a low, reassuring voice, “I came prepared.” he breathes out. Feeling his hardness against you, you instinctively press closer, craving more of his warmth and closeness. The intensity of your mutual desire pulses between you, palpable in every touch, every caress. Anton’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips find yours in a hungry kiss.

“I want you,” Anton murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with longing and urgency. His confession stirs a response in you, a deep yearning that matches his own. You reciprocate eagerly, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, pouring all your passion into that moment.

“Anton,” you whisper, breathlessly, “I’ve been wanting this…wanting you.” As he rolls on the condom with practiced ease, his eyes never leave yours, filled with lust and reverence. You feel his hardness against you, a tangible reminder of his attraction to you.

“Y/N,” Anton breathes against your ear, his voice thick with need, “Are you sure?”

You met his gaze with unwavering intensity, your own desire burning brightly. “Yes,” you tell him, your voice tinged with anticipation and longing. “I’m begging you.”

A low growl escapes Anton’s throat at your words, his own yearning mirroring yours. With a swift movement, Anton positions himself above you, his gaze locked in with yours as he enters you slowly. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock. The sensation of his sizable member filling you up completely sends a rush of pleasure throughout your body.

You gasp at the intensity of the feeling, arching into him, yearning for more of his touch, more of the overwhelming ecstasy only he can bring. Anton’s movements are deliberate and controlled, each thrust drawing a moan from your lips. “Y/N,” he breathes against your skin, his voice rough, “you feel so good.”

But then, unexpectedly, he changes his rhythm. Instead of deep and penetrating thrusts, Anton begins to move shallow, teasing strokes. Each shallow thrust grazes against your most sensitive spots, sending electric currents of pleasure through you. Your breath hitches as this new sensation overwhelms you, and you find yourself gasping for me.

The teasing trusts drive you wild, making your body tremble with need. “Anton, please,” you whimper, your voice shaky with desire.

He smirks against your neck, enjoying the effect he has on you. “You want more?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into his skin. “Harder, please.”

Anton’s restraints snaps at your plea. He adjusts his position and begins to pound into you with a powerful, relentless pace. Each movement is intense, his hips slamming against yours with a force that makes you cry out in pleasure. The feeling of him driving into you, hard and deep, sends waves of ecstasy crashing through you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

Anton’s hands roam your body, exploring every curve and eliciting shivers of pleasure. His touch firm yet tender, heightening the senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of lust and longing. Desperate for more contact, you whimper softly, your voice thick with need, “Anton, please, touch me.”

With one hand steadying himself beside you, his other hand slides down your body, fingers finding your sensitive bud. He circles it slowly at first, teasingly, before applying just the right amount of pressure and speed that has you arching into him with a cry of pleasure.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice trembling, “right there, please don’t stop.”

Anton’s grin is both wicked and tender as he watches your reactions, his own desire evident in the controlled urgency of his actions. “You look so beautiful when you beg,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. As the tension builds, Anton’s breathing becomes heavier, and his movements become sloppier. You can feel him starting to tremble, his control slipping as he nears his own climax. “Y/N,” he groans, his voice raw and filled with need, “I’m so close.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, your voice laced with anticipation. Your word spur him on, and with a final, deep thrust, Anton comes undone, his body shuddering with the force of his release. His moan of pleasure raw and primal, his eyes squeezing shut as he surrenders to the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy. The sight and the sound of him losing control sends a rush of heat through you, pushing you closer to your own edge.

As Anton’s climax subsides, his fingers on your clit maintain their motion, the pressure and speed perfect for driving you over the edge. “I want to see you let go,” he tells you. His words are the final push you need. Your body arches up, and you cry out his name as your orgasm takes over you, each wave more intense than the last. Anton watches you, his eyes filled with admiration, his hand stopping until you are completely spent.

As the final tremors of your climax fade, you collapse back onto the bed, your breathing heavy and uneven. Anthon gently pulls you into his arms, his touch tender and reassuring. “That was incredible,” he says in a hushed tone.

You smile up at him, “It really was,” you agree, your voice still breathless. For a moment, you both lie there in the quiet, the intensity of the moment slowly giving way to a warm, comforting afterglow. Anton’s fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling content and safe in his embrace.

Finally, Anton breaks the silence, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. “Y/N, I like that we’re keeping this a secret for now, just to see what we really want.”

You nod, understanding the importance of this discretion. “I agree,” you say, your eyes meeting his. “But whatever this is, I’m glad we’re doing.”

Anton smiles, his eyes shining with affection. “Me too,” he says, pulling you closer.“ The room is filled with a comfortable silence, only the sound of your breathing and occasional creak if the house settles around you. Eventually, Anton shifts slightly, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t want this to end, but I should probably go before Sohee comes upstairs.”

“You’re right,” you say softly. With one last lingering touch, Anton slips out of bed and begins to gather his clothes. As he dresses, you can’t help but stare at his body, still in awe at how good he looks. Anton pauses at the door, glancing back at you with a smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Anton,” you reply, your heart full as you watch him leave. The door closes softly behind him, and you lie back on the bed, a contented smile on your face.

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ericsprincess · 1 year ago

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yours for the taking

nc-17, smut, boyfriend!Sangyeon, body worship, rimming (Sangyeon receiving), anal fingering, vaginal sex

~~~

part 2 here

~~~

A/N: dedicated to that one girlie who really doesn’t like Sangyeon. You will probably not read this, but I hope you will see the light one day :)

~~~

Finally, Friday. You sigh tiredly, dropping on your living room couch. You put your feet on the coffee table and huff. This week felt more like a month, with the mountain of work you had to do at your job and you couldn’t wait for it to be over. Having finally logged off from your work computer a few minutes ago, the only thing left to do was to throw yourself on the couch and wait for your boyfriend to come home, so you could decide how to spend your Friday evening.

Maybe I can even sneak a nap, you ponder. Although Sangyeon’s shift at work ends earlier than yours, he also goes to the gym after work every day. Even on Friday, which only makes you admire your dedication, since your own gym visits are based mostly on how you’re feeling about it at that moment. Sometimes you find it a little bit annoying that he’s such a stickler about it, but you have to admit, his hard work pays off. He looks amazing and you can never have enough of his body.

So you just grab a blanket, snuggle under it, close your eyes and rest. You’re more exhausted than you thought because it seems that you fall asleep immediately and suddenly you’re being woken up by the sound of the keys unlocking your front door.

“I’m home!” Sangyeon yells from the hallway, kicking off his shoes and dropping his gym bag on the floor. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” he peaks into the living room.

“Hi, baby, it’s okay, I was just napping. How was your day?” you detangle yourself sleepily from your blanket and sit up to welcome him. You’re about to get up and go hug him, but he stops you with a raised hand.

“Y/N, I would not recommend coming close to me,” he smiles. “I did not have time to shower at the gym, because I wanted to come home earlier and I’m way too sweaty right now. I’ll head to the shower and you can nap some more, okay?” he says while already pulling his t-shirt over his head on the way to the bathroom.

Uhh, what a sight, you let yourself drool a little over your boyfriend’s body. He’s been looking especially good lately, since he also got a bit of a tan and he’s still having some pump from the gym. You can’t stop staring at him and touching him and he seems to enjoy the attention too. Sometimes you’re sure he’s provoking you on purpose, just like he did right now - taking off his t-shirt in front of you with mildly exaggerated stretch of his arms over his head, putting his abs and chest on display.

Once again, as it seems to be a habit these days, the more you are thinking about his body, the hornier you get. You look at the closed bathroom door. You can hear the faint sound of the shower and Sangyeon’s muted humming of some song. Could I…? You wonder. Well, why the fuck not.

You get up and march right into the bathroom. When you open the door, it’s already steamy there and you stop to admire Sangyeon’s muscular body behind the fogged up glass, as he’s washing himself. His shoulders are wide and his arms are thick with muscle and veins. His back is wide but waist is thin, with picture perfect six pack abs that make you want to just rub your pussy all over them until you come. And you can’t forget his beautiful full chest, only asking to be bitten and sucked on. His ass and legs are nice and muscular too, and you are really glad he’s not one of those guys who skip legs. You can count on Sangyeon to do everything correctly and properly.

Not to mention he’s always perfectly waxed and shaved everywhere, making his body so much more…lickable. Especially now, when you can see rivulets of water running down his body.

“Oh- hey,” he notices your presence almost immediately and smiles at you, with one of those warm smiles of his, so you quickly take off your clothes and leave them on the ground. You join him under the shower and he does waste a second to embrace and kiss you.

“Did you miss me that much, baby? You had to come to my shower?” he teases you jokingly and you start kissing his neck and collarbones. You know he gets your intent clearly now, even though it amuses him, as usual. Provoking you with his perfect body is his favorite pastime lately, and he clearly enjoys the effect he has on you.

“Yeah,” you whisper, and latch your mouth on his nipple while touching and squeezing his other pec. Sangyeon closes his eyes and leans back on the tiles, enjoying the feeling. You can feel his cock getting hard against your hip, so you just suck harder, knowing it’s one of those things he loves receiving, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

You let his chest go and slowly sink on your knees in front of him, licking his abs on the way down. He takes his hard cock in his hand, positioning for you to suck it, but you only lick and suck on the tip, tasting his precum, while he sighs from the pleasure. You pull away and look up at him.

“Turn around,” you order.

“What? Why?” he’s confused, but instead of a reply, you grab him by his hips and try to turn him, which he obeys with a laugh.

“Hands on the wall,” you speak silently, and he does just that, puts his hands on the tiled wall and leans forwards. You take both of his buttcheeks in your hand and squeeze them a little, enjoying the softness and roundness of the muscle. There is no point in wasting time, you’re sure Sangyeon already figured out what’s gonna happen either. You pull his buttcheeks apart and dive in with your whole face, licking at his hole immediately. You have never done that before, but you’re making up for your lack of experience with enthusiasm. You rub your tongue over it, teasing, almost as if you were making out with it. He’s clearly trying to hold back his moans, which pleases you, as you were not sure how he would react. But it seems that he’s into it, arching his back slightly to push against your face more, so you reward him by flicking your tongue over his hole quickly.

You move one of your hands on his hip, to hold him better while you try to penetrate your tongue inside him. It’s not really possible, he’s too tight and your tongue is just a muscle, but it makes him whimper just at the insinuation of it. You move your hand to rub over his abs, feeling his quick aroused breathing, and how his core muscles move under your hand. It’s intoxicating to know you have such an effect on him right now.

You slide your hand down on his cock and it's as hard as ever, slick, with copious amounts of precome. You’re wet too, you know it without checking - eating Sangyeon’s ass, his reactions and the taboo of it made you so horny it almost hurts. You want him in you immediately.

You get up and press yourself over his back, kissing his neck while he breathes so deeply, as if he were running a marathon.

“Lets go to bed? I really need you to fuck me right now,” you whisper and he can’t even speak, he just nods quickly with his eyes still closed. He looks like he could cum at any moment.

You both get out of the shower and give yourself the quickest wipe down with the closest towels, just to not drip water everywhere and practically run naked to your bedroom, half-wet.

You throw yourself on the bed and he jumps right after you, pressing you down, folding your legs up, now wasting a second and pushing his cock into you. You don’t need any preparation and having him inside you feels like a relief.

“I’m not gonna last long, just so you know,” he chuckles and you huff. “Me neither, but start moving before I literally die.”

He starts fucking you immediately with all the force he can muster, not bothering with any teasing or finesse, just trying to get you both to cum as soon and as hard as he can. You’re holding onto his back when you get a devious idea.

You slowly move your hand down his spine as he’s thrusting into you, lower and lower until you stop at his ass. fingers just right at his asshole. You give him few seconds to refuse and when he doesn’t you slowly push a finger in, into his still wet and relaxed hole.

He whines and his hips stutter, his face buried in the crook of your next, while you're fingering him gently. He’s still fucking you but it’s as if he can’t decide whether to fuck into your or fuck himself on your finger. You’re also close, high from the power you have over him, and how easily you were able to make his strong beautiful man into a puddle.

He’s almost out of his mind from pleasure, succumbed to just his primal feelings to fuck, when you whisper into his ear.

“Should I add another one?” and that’s what does him in, and he moans and cums in you, while thrusting into you hard, and it helps you come too, when you feel his cock pump you full of cum. You’re rarely having an orgasm at the same time, but when you do, it feels like you can experience the pleasure of yours and his at the same time, and it feels like you can't stop coming.

It takes a minute to come down, to make the ringing in your ears stop and your breath slow down, and in the meantime he rolls off you and slumps on the bed next to you. He’s just lying half dead, eyes closed, face and chest red and sweaty.

He finally opens one eye. “You know, if I knew you would like my body this much, I would have started seriously working out sooner,” he mumbles, face half-buried in the bed.

You turn to him and weakly slap him on the arm, “Oh I’m sure you would,” you laugh.

He moves closer to you and grabs you into a hug. You settle comfortably in his warm embrace.

“Next time, let me show you how much I love your body though,” he whispers.

Ooh. Can’t wait.

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ntonluvr · 6 months ago

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*REPOST*

Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly 2

REPOST ON BACKUP FOR SAFETY

Sure enough, Sohee appeared at the top of the stairs, now dressed in his pajamas. “I was coming to help, but it looks like you and Anton did everything,” he said, glancing around.

“You only went upstairs to avoid helping, so don’t even try to lie,” you scoffed, folding the blue blanket.

“You two seemed to be having fun,” he remarked, completely unaware of the emotional storm you had just weathered.

“Yeah, it was a good time as always,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” Sohee said, plopping down on the couch. “But at least I got paid for a full shift.”

You nodded, your mind drifting back to Anton. “I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m going to head to bed,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Alright, goodnight,” Sohee called after you as you headed upstairs.

______________________________________________________________

Texting

anton: I can’t stop thinking about tonight. Can we talk?

y/n: absolutely. im still wide awake.

anton: Same here. I still can’t believe we kissed. How are you feeling?

y/n: honestly, my heart is still racing. i havent been able to stop smiling lowkey…

anton: Me too. I’m going to say something, but don’t judge me haha

y/n: judgment free zone

anton: I have wanted to kiss you for a while now.

y/n: really? because me too, i’m glad i finally did

y/n: might i just add, i like the way your lips felt on me …

anton: Oh, I’m glad you think so. Maybe we should do it again.

y/n: god i wish i could have some of you right now. i wish we didn’t get interrupted …

anton: Trust me, I wish the same thing.

y/n: maybe we can just have a little fun now …

anton: Mmm, tell me what you have in mind.

y/n: i really want to feel your hands on me and your lips exploring every inch of me

anton: I want that too. I swear I can feel you right now.

y/n: i would love to feel you right now, i barely got the chance earlier

y/n: i need you now… what if you snuck over tonight? sohee is playing video games downstairs

anton: My one question. Are we both on the same page about keeping whatever this is a secret. Until we figure out what it is we want?

y/n: yes, i agree. but pls can you hurry over. i’ll run down and unlock the door.

___________________________________________________________