#smile not reaching the eyes + he’s just not as happy as he once was

[rafecameronssl4t]

the jarah pregnancy made me so happy, so i was thinking about thornton!reader finding out an unexpected pregnancy

Sweet Nineteen || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: I was thinking the same thing 🤯

Warnings: vomiting, mention of drugs, r is pregnant at 19

Word count: 1,960

MASTERLIST (rafe x Thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The bile rises, thick and sour, up your throat, and you throw off the sheets in a panic, bolting to the bathroom. You barely reach the toilet before you’re heaving, clutching the rim as the wave of nausea overwhelms you. It takes a moment before you feel Rafe’s presence at your side.

Gently, he gathers your hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail as he kneels down beside you. His hand is warm and steady on your back, rubbing small, comforting circles. “Fuck,” you mutter in a weak voice, feeling the bile burn again as you throw up once more. Rafe doesn’t flinch, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch grounding you.

“You okay?” he asks softly as you finally catch your breath, reaching out to flush the toilet. He sounds genuinely concerned. “I thought you don’t get boat sickness.” “Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before reaching for your toothbrush.

The cool water on your teeth and gums is a relief, and you close your eyes briefly, trying to shake off the dizziness. “Probably something bad I ate yesterday,” you add, glancing up in the mirror to meet his gaze. He’s watching you, his brow furrowed as he nods slowly, a hint of worry still lingering in his expression.

~

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be nineteen in like…” Sarah pauses, glancing down as she counts on her fingers, her grin widening. “Ten hours,” she chuckles, nudging you playfully. You smile, popping a grape into your mouth. “I know, crazy, right?” you say, shaking your head. It feels surreal, like the year passed in a flash.

Before you can say anything else, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. Turning, you spot Rafe and Topper strolling onto the sun deck, looking relaxed, almost too relaxed. But then the sharp scent of weed hits you, making you wrinkle your nose. You sit up from the sun bed, eyeing Topper with a grimace as you spot the joint hanging from his mouth.

“Are you smoking weed right now?” you ask, unable to hide the irritation in your voice. Topper raises an eyebrow, the joint dangling as he gives you a smirk. “Yeah?” he replies nonchalantly, taking a slow, lazy drag, as if daring you to say more. Rolling your eyes, you wave a hand in front of your face, trying to clear the air. “Well, go smoke it somewhere else,” you mutter. “The smell’s making me sick.”

Topper holds your gaze, his expression shifting to mild confusion mixed with amusement. “What? Never bothered you before, sis,” he says, exhaling another plume of smoke, clearly finding this reaction from you entertaining. “Seriously, get the fuck out of here,” you groan, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth as a wave of nausea rolls over you. “I feel like I’m gonna vomit.”

Topper’s smirk falters as he studies you, genuinely taken aback by your reaction. He glances at Rafe, clearly puzzled, as if to confirm whether this is real or just a joke. Rafe watches you, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he turns to Topper. “Just listen to her,” Rafe mutters, giving Topper a nod of silent insistence. With a sigh, Topper raises his hands in surrender, then stubs out the joint against the railing.

“Fine, fine. You didn’t have to ruin the fun,” he says, tossing the remnants aside. With one last look—half-amused, half-apologetic—Topper ambles off, leaving you Rafe and Sarah in a moment of silence. You exhale slowly, the nausea finally beginning to subside as the smell dissipates, while Rafe lingers, his gaze still fixed on you, as if silently checking to make sure you’re alright.

Did you take any medicine?” Rafe’s voice breaks the comfortable silence between you and Sarah as he strolls over, his expression softened with concern. He sits down beside you on the sunbed, his hand instinctively reaching for your thigh, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.“Yeah,” you reply, offering him a small smile. Sarah perks up at the exchange, her brows knitting together in curiosity.

“For what? Are you sick?” she asks, tilting her head with genuine worry. You shake your head, hoping to ease her concern. “I threw up this morning. I think I just ate something bad,” you explain, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. Sarah’s expression shifts to one of cautious relief as she slowly nods, her eyes lingering on you for a moment.

~

You glance at your watch: five minutes until midnight. The bathroom is quiet and dimly lit, but inside, your mind races as you stare down at the test, barely able to breathe. With trembling fingers, you turn it over, bracing yourself—and your heart stops. Two clear lines. Positive. Pregnant.

The air feels thick, each breath you take heavy with the weight of this sudden, life-changing truth. Pregnant at nineteen. You feel a tear slip down your cheek as the reality of it hits: the uncertainty, the responsibility, and the tiny spark of awe that stirs in your chest at the thought of the life growing within you. Who would’ve thought?

Just as you’re caught in the storm of emotions, you hear Rafe’s voice calling out to you from down the hall, his tone carefree and excited. “Babe, where are you?” Your heart skips, and with a surge of panic, you quickly hide the test in the drawer, wiping away the tears from your face. You glance in the mirror, dabbing beneath your eyes to make sure there’s no trace of the overwhelming emotion that just ran through you.

“Here!” you call out, doing your best to sound cheerful as you step out of the bathroom, forcing a smile onto your face. You walk toward Rafe, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gives you that familiar, comforting smile, his hands settling on your waist. “There you are,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He glances down at his watch, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“C’mon, three minutes until midnight,” he says, a spark in his voice as he takes your hand and starts leading you down the hallway. As he pulls you along toward the top deck, you can’t help but glance back at the bathroom door, where the test lies tucked away, as if leaving behind the secret that’s only just beginning to dawn on you.

The cool night air brushes over you as you step onto the deck, where Sarah and Topper are waiting, chatting and laughing under the glow of fairy lights strung around the railings. The ocean spreads out beneath you, dark and endless, stars reflecting off the gentle waves. You try to take it all in, hoping the beauty of the scene will settle the nerves still buzzing under your skin.

“What’s the time now—” you begin, but before you can finish, the sky bursts into a riot of color as the first firework explodes overhead. You gasp, your hand flying to your mouth in surprise as another spark ignites, followed by another, each one brighter than the last, painting the sky in shades of red, blue, and gold.

Your eyes widen as the fireworks continue to light up the night, each one booming and shimmering against the dark sky. The sight is breathtaking, yet you feel tears pricking your eyes again, overwhelmed by the moment, by the beauty of it all, and by the tiny life that only you know about.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rafe whispers close to your ear, his arms slipping around you from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His warmth seeps into you, grounding you as you lean back against him, watching the fireworks burst above you. You turn in his arms, unable to stop the tears that slip down your cheeks, your emotions too strong to hide. Rafe’s face softens, his thumb brushing against your cheek to catch a tear.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern as his hands gently cradle your face. You hold him close, gathering the courage to tell him what you’ve only just discovered. Voice barely above a whisper, you lean in close, “I’m pregnant.” The fireworks continue to crackle overhead, and your words are nearly lost in the noise. Rafe pulls back, searching your face with a confused look. “What?”

A nervous laugh escapes you, and this time, you say it louder, “I’m pregnant, Rafe!” His face shifts, eyes widening as the realisation dawns on him. “You’re pregnant?” he repeats, his voice filled with awe, and you nod, unable to hold back the smile spreading across your face. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he pulls you into a deep, joyful kiss, his hands cradling your face like he’s afraid to let go.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “We’re going to have a baby,” he says softly, almost as if he’s speaking to himself, still in shock but brimming with happiness. “What’s going on?” Sarah’s voice cuts through, and you both turn to see her and Topper walking over, eyes filled with curiosity.

You beam at them, feeling a rush of excitement at sharing the news. “I’m pregnant!” you announce, your voice trembling with joy. Sarah’s jaw drops, her hand covering her mouth as she lets out a squeal of excitement, immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh my god, y/n, are you serious?! This is amazing!” she cries, nearly bouncing with joy as she squeezes you.

Topper’s eyes go wide, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe with a grin spreading across his face. “Holy shit, dude! You’re gonna be a dad!” He claps Rafe on the back with enthusiasm, pulling him into a quick, celebratory hug as they both break into laughter. Rafe chuckles, patting Topper’s shoulder, a lightness in his expression that you rarely see.

“And you’re gonna be an uncle,” he replies, unable to hide the pride and excitement in his voice. Topper’s grin softens a little as he turns to you, arms wide open. “Congrats, sis,” he says warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. His embrace is solid and reassuring, swaying you back and forth as you both share a laugh. “Mom’s gonna be over the moon,” he says, chuckling as he releases you.

You smile, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. “You really think so?” A part of you can’t help but worry about how your parents will react to the news, especially given that you’re only nineteen. Their expectations have always been high, and this wasn’t exactly in their plans for you.

“Oh, trust me, I know so.” Topper’s eyes twinkle with a mix of reassurance and amusement. “She might put on a big act and pretend to be shocked, but deep down, she’s been waiting for this. She’s dreamed of being a grandma for years.” He gives your arm a gentle squeeze, his playful grin easing your nerves a little.

As you pull away from Topper, Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist, drawing you close to his side. He looks down at you, his expression softening, and leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of wonder, as if he’s still trying to wrap his mind around it.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you as you snuggle into him, resting your head against his chest. “Me neither,” you reply softly, your voice filled with quiet happiness. “But I’m glad it’s with you.” Rafe’s arm tightens around you, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back as the reality of it all settles between you.

[navybrat817]

Double Shift

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after you work a double shift.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, bit of backstory, dirty talk, mild smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @nixakimbo was kind enough to gift me with this GORGEOUS edit and I had to create a new AU. Sorry, lovelies? @tavners , this is for you. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You dropped your bag the moment you walked through the door. Your feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and your head throbbed with each passing second. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the couch, collapsing into it like it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Working doubles was exhausting, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was a long day in a series of long days, but now you had a chance to relax.

Reaching for the nearby pillow, you inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at your lips. Instead of the usual fresh scent of your couch, you caught the familiar, warm fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne. He must have spritzed it before leaving for work. It was like leaning into him and your shoulder relaxed more, even though you wished he were really there.

The sound of the door creaking open a few minutes later told you that your wish had been granted.

“Aww. Long day, baby?” Bucky cooed from the doorway, spotting you sprawled out with no intention of moving to greet him. “You know your bag’s on the ground?”

“Mm-hmm.” You rubbed your temples slowly. “You know I worked a double, right? I’m lucky I made it to the couch.”

His soft chuckle reached your ears as he set his keys down and picked up your bag. “I know and I’m sorry. You work really hard.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead once he reached the couch. “I wish you didn't have to.”

You turned your head, the throbbing in your temples easing when your eyes met his. His black tank top fit him perfectly, complementing the tattoos that stretched across his neck and arms. The skulls and flowers, symbols of death and hope, told stories of his past. Stories he didn't have to tell you about, but he did anyway and you were happy to know every detail. As captivating as the ink was, it was his blue eyes that held you. In them, you saw your future, bright and full of love.

“That’s life. And you work hard, too,” you reminded him.

“Yeah. My job is so honorable,” he mumbled, making a mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it. “I’m really making a difference in the world.”

You frowned sympathetically. Bucky was a gifted mechanic, but his family was dealt a bad hand and he did what he had to do to take care of his younger sister. “And you’ll be out of there soon.”

Once he finished paying off Becca's medical bills, he could quit. That day was getting closer and closer. And one day he’d open his own shop, too, a legitimate shop. You wanted to stand beside him when that dream came true. Becca would be so proud.

Both of you wanted the best for Bucky.

He sighed, sinking to his knees and resting his hands on your thighs. You could see the gray peppering his scruff and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your nails through it. The sound of his groan made you smile, so you did it again.

“I just wanna give you the world,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing your palm. “You know that, right?”

“You already do,” you whispered back, his eyes softening. You had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and his love in your heart. It was all you needed. “But you know, I could-”

Bucky put a finger to your lips to stop you. “I know what you're going to say and we’re not selling your dad's car.”

You smiled sadly. Your dad’s car was a classic and could get Bucky the money he needed, but he turned the offer down each time you brought it up. He didn't want you to give up one of the only things you had left of your dad. “I won't say a word tonight.”

But you could try again tomorrow.

“Thank you.” He took your hand and kissed your palm again. “You up for a ride later?”

“I don’t think I’m moving from this spot tonight,” you half smiled. “But we can tomorrow.”

“You don’t wanna go for a ride tonight?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice. You usually jumped at the chance to ride his motorcycle with him.

“Feet and head hurt a little,” you admitted, touching his cheek as concern etched his features. “I’m fine, really. Nothing for you to make a fuss about, but I won't turn you down if you want to dote on me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, slipping your shoes off. You gasped when he began massaging the sole of your right foot, the gentle pressure making your body sink deeper into the couch. By the time he switched to your left foot, you were practically melting. “That better?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, combing your fingers through his dark hair. He always took care of you. “I swear, you have magic hands.”

“Oh, I have more than magic hands,” he winked, your heart skipping a beat. “And you know what’s good for headaches?”

“Bucky…” you smiled. There was a warning in your voice, but you couldn't help the amusement in your eyes.

“Yes, me,” he grinned. “I’m very good at helping with headaches and you know it.”

Your smile widened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so making you come all over my face before I cook you dinner was not what you meant and will not help your headache?” he asked, his voice deep, dripping with desire.

Whatever ache you felt in your body all went straight to your pussy. A deep, throbbing ache that cried out for him to soothe it since he was the cause. “Is making melt on your tongue as my reward for working a double?”

He smirked at your breathy tone. “That’s exactly what it is.” He didn’t need to ask you to lift your hips when he reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them off with your underwear. Your body moved on instinct for him, fluid and in sync. “I can feed you right here and carry you to bed, too.”

“I’m too big and heavy for you to carry me,” you teased. His eyes flashed, and before you could react, he leaned down unexpectedly, sinking his teeth into your thigh. Your mouth fell open from the sting, but it felt good, too. “Hey!” You shrieked.

“You’re not big. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect,” he snarled, brushing his tongue along the teeth marks. You wanted his mark all over you. “I’ll blame that remark on how tired you are right now from work.”

Framing his face to lift his head, you met his lips in a soft kiss, hoping to convey how much it meant to you that he saw you as beautiful. How touched you were that he always put your care and feelings first. As scary as he looked to others, you knew the man inside. The one with a heart full of passion.

“I’m not perfect,” you whispered against his lips, gasping when he nibbled your bottom lip. A second bite for once again downplaying yourself. “But I’m perfect for you.”

“You think so?” he asked quietly.

“I know so,” you said, biting his bottom lip for good measure.

He thought you were too good for him some days, and you were quick to shut that down. A good man wouldn’t have taken care of his sister the way he did, and he wouldn’t love you wholeheartedly if he was less of a good person than you. His current profession didn’t define him, and you refused to let him believe it did.

“I...” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Love...” You shivered when he kissed the other corner. “You.”

A flame lit within your heart. His tender touches and words burned you from the inside out. “I love you, too,” you managed to whisper before his lips covered yours again.

Fresh arousal washed over you when he smiled and kissed down your body. “Now let me show you with my mouth how much I love you,” he simpered, parting your legs to open for him. “Might die if I don’t get my mouth on you and you wouldn’t want that, would you? And we need to get rid of your headache.”

You moaned, also feeling like you’d die if he didn’t touch you. “Do I get your cock, too? It’s a pretty bad headache you need to help me get rid of,” you teased. If your pain actually persisted, he’d make you take something and insist on you resting. And maybe it was selfish to ask for more than one orgasm, but you both knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rock your world.

“Before and after dinner,” he promised, his pupils dialting as he stared between your trembling thighs. “Fuck, I missed you today,” he groaned.

“Missed me or my pussy?” you asked, certain that you were going to soak the cushion beneath you and you didn’t care as long as he got you off. “Because we both missed you.”

He smirked, his hand inching up your thigh. “Of course, you missed me. Who else would make you come as hard as I do?”

Cocky was a good look on him, but you could play a little, too. “Well…” Your coy smile had him raising his eyebrow. “If you really want to know, there’s-” You threw your head back with a cry as Bucky’s head dipped down to taste you, effectively cutting off your teasing.

It wouldn’t take long for you to coat his fingers and tongue with your release. It never did with him. He’d make you taste yourself when he kissed you after so you could fully appreciate the orgasm he gave you. He wouldn’t give you any reprieve when he’d bend you over the couch and sink his cock into your sensitive pussy. Your sounds would be erotic music to his ears, just like his words were music to yours.

“Grind that pussy back against me. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy for me to fuck and fill.”

“Don’t you dare rub your clit. You wanna come? I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg for me to come inside you. I’ll give it to you.”

You’d scream his name in ecstasy and pass out in his arms from the best kind of exhaustion. You’d wake up to him kissing your forehead and holding you upright so he could hand feed you a delicious meal. You’d smile when he told you how much he loved you and that he'd be free of the chop shop soon. And you’d tell him you loved him, too, before he fucked you all over again.

It was going to be a good night.

Appreciate you lovelies indulging me like always and hope to share more when I can. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sena-seastar]

Bad Sleeping Habits

Dad!Aemond x Wife!Reader

Summary: Aemond has trouble being firm with your daughter.

A/N: This is just a little drabble I wrote. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!

Aemond had always been a light sleeper, even more so after the birth of your daughter. He had always been the first to wake up and rush to her side anytime she made the slightest noise. So when he heard her shuffling out of bed in the middle of the night, he woke up immediately. He didn’t get up, instead choosing to wait and see what she was up to.

The two of you had been trying to get Daenys into the habit of sleeping in her own bed. To say it was a struggle would be an understatement. The two of you had let her sleep between you a few times, and apparently, she took that to mean she had to sleep in your bed every night.

Aemond didn’t honestly mind it. He loved every minute of it. He knows that once she gets older, he won’t get those moments when he can hold her close and have her sleep in his arms anymore. So he wants to hold on to her as long as he can. 

Aemond kept perfectly still as he felt the blanket at the bottom of the bed being tugged down. He used one of his hands to hold onto it so that it would not completely slip off the bed, as Daenys used it as a ladder to climb onto the bed. He pretends to be asleep, though he cracks his eye open just enough to watch his little girl, in case she slips.

She let out a little grunt as she successfully reached the top. Aemond doesn’t move as she climbs over him, most likely trying to take her usual place between the two of you.

He does his best not to cry out when her knee accidentally digs into the flesh of his thigh. He doesn’t want to frighten his little girl or, even worse, wake you up. So, he does his best to bear the pain.

He waits until she reaches the top of the bed before rolling over to face her. She freezes, her eyes wide open, knowing she’s been caught. Though her shock quickly turns to amusement. Daenys gives him a cheeky smile.

“Why are you out of bed?” He whispers. “Go back to sleep,” he scolds her playfully.

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head, making her little silver curls shake side to side.

 Daenys sits back on her heels—a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Aemond lifts his hands, trying to brace himself. He makes it just in time before she throws herself on top of him. Her little arms wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly as she buries her face into his neck. Messy, silver curls tickle his nose. Aemond shakes his head, trying to push her hair away.

“Fine, you can stay,” he sighs, “but your mother won’t be pleased with us in the morning.”

He grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the both of them.

She yawned, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. “Night, night, kepa.” 

“Goodnight, my little dragon.” He hummed, gently running his hand over her back.

Aemond stared up at the canopy, and once again, he found himself wondering how he had gotten here. What had he done to deserve such happiness? The man had always known he would marry and eventually have children someday. He was a Targaryen prince, after all. Yet he had never imagined it would make him feel so... content. 

“You spoil her too much,” you mumble drowsily.

Aemond turned his head, finding you with your head still buried in your pillow.

“She’s a princess. It's practically in the job description.” He smirked. “Besides, you don't seem to mind when I spoil you.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “But she’s sleeping in her own bed tomorrow.”

Aemond reached over and grabbed your hand. He lifted it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[alchemistc]

kiss in the rain, don't let me get on that plane

an: it feels like this might be part of a series. every iteration of a fix-it my brain comes up with penned to paper, as it were.

The air is crisper up here, the sky more blue.

Air operations is a county-wide endeavor here, with five volunteer departments in the surrounding towns to drive the engines where they're needed, but the hangar in the valley below him houses six helicopters, two engines, and one functioning ambulance. The other one is, apparently, out of commission and the yearly budget won't be available for another three months.

His station doesn't work with Air Ops very often, but once a month they host a county-wide dinner and Buck had volunteered to cook the bulk of it, this time.

He's full - with food, with laughter, with a lot of light hearted teasing from the other captains about how he'd only gotten the call because he's essentially indestructible on the job (I've died twice doesn't seem to have much effect when he's standing across from them living and breathing)

He's been getting his lungs used to the elevation for a while now but he can't quite blame the thin air when his breath stops in his throat at the sight that meets him when he crests the hill towards his Jeep.

Buck feels his fist tighten around the shoulder of his duffle.

"Hey," Tommy says, and he looks -

Well he looks exactly like he'd looked three months ago at Buck's going away party.

Eddie had flown in with Chris for it, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time in a while, and Buck maybe just hadn't noticed the mischievous tilt to his grin when Eddie had pulled away from a back slapping hug, or maybe he just couldn't have clocked exactly why he looked quite like that.

He'd just been happy to see him after seven months without the comfort of a key to Eddie's place on his keyring, of knowing he'd get to see and talk to and be teased by his closest friend within a few days of the last time. He'd been ecstatic, actually, the grin refusing to leave his face while he hugged Christopher longer than necessary, while he listened to Eddie whine about his mother in a way Buck had never heard before, like he was actually a little amused by her rather than angry with her.

He'd been happy to be distracted by Bobby and Athena as they began their recollections of all the stupid shit he used to get up to, the calls he'd proved to be vital on, the ways he'd grown and changed in the near decade he'd been a firefighter.

"They're lucky to have you," Bobby had said when there were tears of laughter in everyone's eyes, and maybe he had or hadn't noticed Maddie clock-watching but he certainly noticed when front door opened and wide shoulders filled the frame - large hands curling around the handle, the downslope of a familiar nose hitting the open air before the rest of a familiar face. Thick arms framing a barrel chest and long legs in tight jeans.

It'd taken Buck another four hours and a series of hushed confessions whispered across a shared pillowcase for him to notice the slash of new silver along his temples.

He notices them now, again, as Tommy drops from the driver's side of his truck and tips his hip against the frame, sunlight catching in the lighter hairs. Tommy looks more wary than Buck's ever seen him. More hopeful, too.

"Did you mean it?" Tommy asks, and - Buck had said a lot of things, that night.

He can make an educated guess, but he's actually thinking he needs to make Tommy work for it, this time. It's startling to realize he's actually making moves to be a little selfish when his heart is pounding in his ears like this. He tips his chin. Drifts a yard and a half closer.

Tommy's gaze shifts. "Evan," and it's been three months since that night but they've talked, text threads that switch between bickering and serious and flirty and friendly, a few phone calls on hushed evenings when the cabin walls creak with wind around him. Buck hasn't heard Tommy say his name like that since it'd slipped out by mistake, three months ago, when Buck shifted his hips just enough to hit Tommy's prostate dead on. "I sold my house."

This is the big gesture, then. The one they'd talked about like it was a little bit silly, like it was still the kind of thing people did in movies that didn't really translate to a lived life.

"I literally talked to you yesterday," Buck says, and contemplates throwing something at him out of frustrated elation. A conversation from two days ago clicks. "Eddie knew, didn't he?"

Eddie with a smug tilt to his grin as he tipped the camera away from an unimpressed Christopher, Eddie pressing and pushing and wonderingly asking Buck if he'd thought about actually moving in to the house they'd offered up to him as part of the captaincy package. How Buck had scoffed, content to putz around his little bachelor cabin in the woods.

Tommy shrugs. "I shipped him all the mats from my garage when I was packing. Apparently I'm a shitty liar so he didn't quite believe me when I told him I was just upgrading."

He's beautiful, as he shifts his weight and drifts away from his truck, towards Buck, backlit by the gold-flecked, fluffy clouds hanging low over the jagged horizon line.

Buck checks his grip on his duffle.

"What happened to the car lift?"

It's - it's stupid, actually, but Buck feels like the next ten-twenty-fifty years of his life might hinge on the answer to it. Tommy steps closer - close enough for Buck to smell the aftershave on his very freshly shaved jaw. "I'm, uh. Thinking of having it shipped up from storage. If I find a place to stay."

He's got three more months he can't get out of on the cabin lease. The captains house is currently being occupied by his three most reckless probies and he won't just kick them out on a whim.

There's that ranch he sees tucked away in the valley, every time he drives into work, the one that's had a For Sale sign up since the first time he'd visited, four and a half months ago.

Buck drops the duffle and reaches forward to tug at the loops of Tommy's jeans.

The kiss is warm, soft, familiar. He shoves three and a half years worth of longing into it, in the way he hadn't, three drinks too deep with his ex after all his friends and family had wished him farewell. He'd spent six months after the breakup angry and hoping to make Tommy eat his fucking words; no one kisses like Tommy.

No one curls fingers so delicately around his ear before he lays his palm flat to Buck's scalp and tugs at Buck's hair, no one opens his mouth and licks in with a swirl and a groan like that, no one shifts their weight closer and breathes him in on a gasp.

"Tommy," Buck says, when they're both breathless and overwhelmed. He thinks of the text he'd sent, three weeks ago, after a phone call with Tommy about the kid who'd died in the air with him at the controls.

(Firsts and lasts are never guaranteed, and he hadn't meant it to sound petty, he'd really just meant to make a point about how a first high school dance and a last high school dance weren't so diametrically opposed.

Getting back a string of unpunctuated texts with misspelled words and no order or coherence had been enough to turn on his bedside lamp and call.

Tommy's voice had been tired, defeated, words slurred in a way Buck can't remember ever hearing before. It was a wall breaking down that he'd honestly never expected. Not after he'd thought he was chipping away at them only to realize Tommy had just been reinforcing them at the base.

"God, I fucking miss you," he'd said, while Buck stumbled through a speech about the survival mechanisms of the African beetle bug. Three and a half years, three semi-serious relationships between them and now over a thousand miles separated them as they'd been. A night of tipsy fucking before Buck kissed his sleeping forehead and hopped on a plane didn't change that.

But there in the quiet spaces between their breaths over the phone, he'd felt the weight of being missed by Tommy Kinard.)

"No one calls me Buck up here," Buck tells him, while they both press into each other, hands shifting over clothes, limbs stretching to meet, faces tucked in close. "You'll have to get used to Evan not being so special."

Tommy sighs. A finger draws a line from his temple to the curve of his jaw.

"Evan will always be special to me."

He's the first person since Buck began to ever call him that just because. There have been others, since then, no longer exclusive to the man who laughed as they soared through clouds and the one who'd brought him so fucking low he'd felt parts of himself fully fracture.

Buck is pretty fucking sure this means he wants to be the last. Still. He can tell his expression shutters by the way Tommy looks momentarily browbeaten, but his eyes clear, and he tugs Buck further into his chest, bundles his arms around him. "Ask me again," he says, and Buck stares into his eyes and tries to imagine what they'd look like against a skyline without smog, high up in the air, the ground falling away from them.

"That ranch I was telling you about is still for sale," Buck says, and tries desperately to keep his expression neutral as he continues. "Maybe in a couple years, you can help me with the mortgage payments."

Tommy nips at his nose, his laugh soft and quiet, warm. His eyes are a little misty.

"You're breaking my heart, Evan Buckley," and he has to clear his throat, corners of his eyes going wet. "Always knew you would."

Right now it's little more than a gesture and a promise. Buck's had three years to reflect, to understand that for all that Tommy had been the one who'd helped him reach this current update of Buck, they'd never actually dealt with too many of the hard parts. They'll have to fight for it. They'll have to talk through stupid shit, and miscommunications, and fear and regret and the love, too.

He thinks maybe Tommy's finally ready to fight.

---

Eddie looks smug as he catches sight of Tommy stumbling blearily down the stairs behind Buck on the video call.

Buck makes a face.

"Do you know how many times one of you thwarted my parent trap-esque plans for you two assholes? When you were both single six months ago I nearly hired some creep off Facebook marketplace to kidnap you both and lock you in a room."

Tommy ruffles Buck's hair, flips off the camera, navigates his way to the coffee pot, out of Eddie's view.

"And that's my cue to go," Eddie says, and Bucks gaze darts guiltily from Tommy's ass. "I better be the first one you guys invite to the housewarming." And he hangs up before either of them can argue that this is brand fucking new and they really haven't worked through the details.

He's right, though. He's right. Buck's got his teeth in the back of Tommy's neck twenty seconds later, and when Tommy leans back into it he holds up his phone and shows Buck the listing for the ranch he's been daydreaming about sharing with someone (this someone) since the first time he saw it.

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

i said i was gonna read when u edited and now u given me the signal 🫡 let's see if i'm ready to let go of pretty maybank and rafe <😭3 ⬇️

Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

maniacally scribbling down this sentence into my notes bc i am in love with how it flows?? i have a writer-crush on u bc of the way u string together words so elegantly

Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested.

don't even know if im gonna to even talk about the story atp but one of my FAVORITE things about ur writing is how u add these little specific details that makes the characters come alive !!!

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

why did this line hit me so deep???

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

love the word fluorescent lights, could never learn how to spell it without google

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

THIS IS MAKING ME GIGGLE SO BADLY THE DYNAMIC TRIO

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

the way i went—

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven.

u mesh so well with canon events 🩷🙂‍↕️

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

thought this man was gonna be nice and offer rafe a cigarette but i guess wer're not there yet

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

so bf of him

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

why is this so funny LOLL

“You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”“That’s so sweet.”

im literally gonna miss them sm 😭

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger.

FEARRRR

“Let’s go home." You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

such a cute ending <3

FINAL THOUGHTS • i literally am going to miss them so much, it was such an adventure to read this series (and despite how late it is), and with the new edits, i can just see how much you grown as a writer. it's glorious and im so happy to have been there for the ride! can't wait to read more of ur things and also, how the fuck do u write so fast? i blink and there's 15304 different rafe fics out by you??

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - seven (finale)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

word count: 6.3k

warnings: last chapter <3

You’ve been to Kildare County Sheriff’s Department way more times than you care to admit

Being the oldest kid in your family—and somehow the only actual adult—you lost count of how many times you had to drag your dad out of jail between the ages of sixteen and twenty. It felt like a full-time job.

Then there were the countless times you’d been there for your friends. 

JJ, for instance, had been taken in more than once for public disturbances. It was almost a given that he'd end up in that shithole whenever there was a party or some kind of trouble brewing. You knew every officer by name, and they knew you too. Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

But you always showed up, no matter what, because that’s what you did. You took care of your own.

The first time you had to pick up your dad, you were sixteen. Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested. You were shaking the whole time, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it, eyes blurry with tears. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

You were stuck.

You remember pulling up to the station, parking all kinds of crooked because your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. You ran inside, still half-asleep, and the officer at the desk gave you this sad little smile. “He’s in the back,” he said, like you didn’t already know.

When you saw your dad slumped over, bruised, and barely awake, something inside you just... cracked. He looked up, and for a second, he recognized you. “Hey, kiddo,” he mumbled, still drunk, still out of it. Back then, there was still some part of him left, some shred of the man he used to be.

You signed the papers, helped him stumble to the car, and drove home in silence while he passed out in the passenger seat. It was the first of so many nights like that. And you knew it wasn’t gonna be the last. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you helped him inside and onto the couch. He mumbled a thank you before passing out, his snores filling the room.

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

You wish you could be anywhere but here.

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

“Will you stop bouncing your leg JJ?” You grit out, already irritated from waiting longer than an hour.

“Why the fuck did he have to come?” JJ mutters, throwing daggers at Rafe with his eyes.

“JJ, not now.” You put your hand on his arm, trying to keep him from starting something. The last thing you need is another fight.

JJ glares, but his jaw clenches shut. “This is so messed up,” he grumbles.

“Messed up is leaving your sister alone with your drunk piece of shit father.”

“Like I knew he was there, you dumbass?” JJ shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe stop leaving her alone.”

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter, feeling the tension rise again. The last thing you need right now is for these two to start another fight.

Ever since JJ came back to the mainland only to pick you up from Taneyhill, things had been…tense. It was one thing to talk about you and Rafe, it was a completely different thing to see you together.

You know your brother hates every second of it. 

“Oh, but you wanna talk about drunk pieces of shit? How many times did your daddy bail you out?” 

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching, “How many times did you make your sister bail you out, huh?”

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

You shut your eyes, attempting to ignore the way they’re clawing each other’s throats out with tainted insults. It was a miracle they're standing in the same room without killing each other, but you can only take so much. It’s like they’re about to throw punches, right there in the middle of the sheriff’s office.

"Shut the fuck up Maybank."

“Fuck you, Cameron!” JJ snaps, standing up so fast his chair skids backward, “You think you’re better than us?”

Rafe stands up too, stepping closer to JJ, “Better than you? Yes.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this for her,” JJ scoffs. “You’ve never helped anyone but yourself, you manipulative asshole.”

“That’s enough,” you snap, standing up and stepping between them, pushing them apart. Your voice is shaking with frustration. “You two are going to shut the fuck up or take this shit outside. It’s nine in the morning. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and I’m not gonna sit here and hear you two bitch it you.”  

JJ glares at Rafe over your shoulder. “We don’t need this asshole’s help. We can handle it ourselves.”

Rafe sneers. “Handle it? Like you’ve handled everything else?”

Your brother lunges forward, but you push him back, your voice shaking. “Sit your ass down or leave, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

They both just stare at you, their harsh words still hanging in the air of this stuffy room. The tension is almost suffocating, but there's no way you’re letting them keep tearing each other apart. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. The last thing you need right now is to play mediator between them… again.

Rafe finally sits down, arms crossed, biting his tongue—for your sake, you know. JJ’s sitting too now, still fidgeting like he always does, tapping his fingers against the armrest.

"Look," you say, your voice still firm, "We're here for a reason. Let's just get through this and get out, okay?"

Your brother just grunts, glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended him. Rafe lets out a sigh and gives you the tiniest nod, like a reluctant “fine.” You sit back down, feeling a bit of the weight in your chest ease up. Rafe leans in and gently takes your hand, mouthing, "I’m sorry." You give it a little squeeze—apology accepted, for now.

JJ notices but looks away too quickly for you to read him. You know he’s pissed, but at least for the moment, he’s staying quiet.

The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like forever, and finally, a cop shows up at the door, calling your name. The three of you stand up at the same time, and Rafe and JJ follow behind you, silent but close, as you walk down the hallway.

The clanging of barred doors shutting behind you makes your stomach twist, and you eventually end up in a small interrogation room. The officer gestures to a chair, "Take a seat." He heads off to get paperwork, and you glance at Rafe, who’s watching you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You know he won’t relax until your dad is completely out of the picture.

Your brother, on the other hand, leans against the wall with crossed arms, a brooding expression on his face. He's always been protective, even if his way of showing it often led to clashes with others. You wish things could be different.

Officer Malcom comes back with a stack of papers, but before you can even look at them, Rafe’s lawyer, Mr. Johnson, walks in. Rafe's had him on speed dial since the whole mess started, and honestly, he's been a lifesaver. He sits beside you, reviewing the papers calmly, and just having him there makes everything feel a little less scary.

“Alright, folks, let's go through this step by step. The first form here is the petition for a temporary restraining order. It outlines the incidents and reasons for seeking protection.”

“Are these incidents documented with the sherrif’s office?” Mr. Johnson's expertise is evident in the way he examines the document meticulously.

“Yes, sir. We have reports dating back to—" Officer Malcom stops for a second, checking the data, “About eight years ago, give or take.”

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, brows furrowed, clearly pissed off that this has been going on for that long without anyone doing anything. You try to ignore it, focusing on the papers in front of you instead.

“What happens after I file this?

“Once filed, a judge will review the petition. If approved, a temporary restraining order will be issued, usually effective immediately. Then, there'll be a hearing within a few weeks to determine if a permanent order is necessary.”

“What if he doesn't abide by the temporary order?” 

The officer only nods sympathetically. “Violating a restraining order is a criminal offense. He could face fines, jail time, or both.”

Rafe’s still looking at you, “Does she have to serve him personally with these papers?”

“It’s crucial that he’s officially notified. We handle that part, though.”

Rafe’s lawyer is taking notes when he speaks up again, “If he contests the order, he’ll have the opportunity to present his side at the hearing. Both parties can bring witnesses or evidence. But based on your father’s behavior, that’s unlikely.”

You hope to God he doesn’t. The thought of seeing him again makes you feel like you might throw up. You take a deep breath, hands itching to twirl a piece of your hair.

“How long does the process usually take?”

You feel a hand touch your shoulder, gently tightening the grip around the skin, you don’t have to look back to know it’s Rafe. By now you know the lines and the ridges of his hands as if they are your own.

"The timeline can vary, but typically, from filing to the hearing, it might take a few weeks. It depends on the court's schedule and any potential delays."

You nod, absorbing the information while trying to steady your breathing. None of this feels real. Not the legal stuff, not the fact that this could actually be over soon. As the conversation continues, Mr. Johnson outlines the next steps clearly, discussing what will happen during and after the hearing. 

The officer quickly gathers the papers in his hands, “I’ll get everything started then. Just a moment.”

As he leaves to process the paperwork, a brief silence settles over the room. You exchange glances with JJ and Rafe, both of them entirely too interested of the concrete floor. 

“This is the right thing to do, right?”

You know it is. You’ve known for years, but it’s still hard to understand how it came to this. Your life could’ve been so different. 

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven. “Yeah. He shouldn’t be able to just...” He trails off shaking his head.

Rafe squeezes your shoulder once more, then lowers himself to your level and plants a quick peck on your temple, “You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

Mr. Johnson finally puts his pen away, turning to you, “I’ll stay on top of the filings and keep you updated on any developments.”

This moment is a culmination of years of struggle. It's daunting, but you’re not alone. 

 "Thank you.”

JJ shifts his weight, his agitation visible. "I hate this," he mutters. 

"I know," you reply, not knowing what else to say.

The door swings open again, and Officer Malcom re-enters, holding a stack of papers. "Alright," he says, handing you a pen. "Just sign here, and we'll get this process started."

You take the pen with shaky hands, knowing there’s no going back after this. As you sign your name, you can't help but sigh in relief.

This is a step towards freedom.

Rafe watches you intently, his eyes full of concern. He reaches out, placing a hand on your back, a little reminder that he's here for you. JJ stands close by, his protective instincts on high alert.

After you finish signing, Officer Malcom takes the papers and gives you a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of the rest. You should hear from us soon about the next steps."

You stand up, feeling a little lighter, but the emotional toll of the day still kicks your ass. As you make your way out of the room, Rafe keeps a steady hand on your back, guiding you.

Once outside, the morning sun feels almost blinding after the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. JJ immediately lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling with a sigh. 

Rafe looks at you, his expression softening. "You're good?"

You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thank you for being here, both of you."

JJ smirks, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Where else would I be?”

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Gotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day when 'Rafe the Retch' would be helping us out.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it, but you quickly cover it up, turning it into a cough. You’d forgotten about that one.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “'Rafe the Retch'? Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Ask her,” JJ nods in your direction.

“You called me that shit?”

You bite your lip, “To be fair, I called you worse things.”

Rfe tilts his head, hands on his hips, “Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The three of you start walking toward the parking lot, as you reach the cars, JJ pulls you into a quick, tight hug. “We’re gonna get through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. 

You hug him back, “I know, Jay.”

Rafe stands a few feet away, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. When your brother finally lets you go, he steps closer, “Ready to go?”

JJ looks at you, the concern in his eyes clear. "I gotta head to work. Do you want a ride home? It's on the way.”

You glance at Rafe, then back at JJ, sensing his reluctance. “No but thank you.”

JJ’s shoulders tense, but he nods, trying to hide his disappointment. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything, okay?"

You smile, appreciating his concern. "I will. Drive safe."

He nods again, glancing one more time at Rafe before getting into his truck and driving off. You watch him go, knowing that things are still far from being okay between the two of you.

You know he’s never going to change his opinion about Rafe, maybe not until he witnesses the changes in him, but you hope that one day they’ll find some common ground. It’s a lot to ask from your brother, you know that, and it’s why you never push him. 

“You sure you’re doing okay?”

You nod, leaning into Rafe now that he stands behind you, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his car, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

"Barely," you admit. "Just couldn't stop thinking about today.”

He unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for you. "Well, now that it's done, you can rest. I’ll even put that bullshit show you like.”

You gasp ready to punch him in the shoulder, but by the time you turn he’s already on the other side of the car, “Love Island is not a stupid show!”

He chuckles as he starts the engine. "If you say so.”

“You watch it too.”

“Only because you force me to,” Rafe counters, a playful glint in his eyes.

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand slides over to grab yours. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes the tight feeling in your chest ease a little. You’re both quiet for most of the drive, but it’s not awkward or anything. It’s actually kind of nice. You never imagined he’d be so...attached. Things between you are still...somewhat undefined, but it definitely feels like a relationship. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind for now. It's just not the right moment to talk about it—not with his father’s trial only weeks away and your own dad still recovering in the hospital.

When you pull up to his apartment, the building feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He hops out of the car and, as usual, rushes around to open your door for you. It’s such a small thing, but it always makes your heart race.

Once inside, the place feels so different from the craziness of the day. It’s cozy, warm, and just... safe. You kick off your shoes and flop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Wanna watch your show?” Rafe asks, giving you that half-smile you’ve come to love.

You chuckle, feeling lighter than you have all day. “And you say you don’t love it.”

He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, navigating to the show. As the familiar theme song starts playing, you snuggle closer to him, finding comfort in the routine. It's all trashy drama and ridiculous contestants, but it’s the distraction you desperately need. Rafe’s arm stays around you, like always. But as the episode progresses, your eyelids grow heavy. The events of the day, combined with the sleepless night, catch up to you. You feel yourself drifting off, your head resting against Rafe’s chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

“Rest, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Next thing you know, you wake up to the smell of something cooking. Blinking your eyes open, you realize Rafe’s in the kitchen, and the living room is dimly lit. A blanket slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and when you look over, he’s already smiling at you.

You’ve seen him smile more times over the past month than all the years you had “known” him combined. It looks good on him, makes him look younger. 

Stretching, you ask, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured you could use a good meal,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal that he’s cooked for you.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Look at you, Chef Rafe.”

Ever since he moved in on his own, he’s been slowly learning how to take care of himself. You’ve caught him watching cooking and deep cleaning videos more times you can count. You find it endearing. It makes your chest ache, in a good way, to watch him slowly turn into his own person, not the Rafe his father shaped him to be.

He chuckles, giving you a quick forehead kiss. “Eat before it gets cold.”

You sit down, and the first bite has you practically moaning. He snorts at your reaction, but you can tell he’s proud of himself. As you eat, though, you notice he seems a little off. His shoulders are tight, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

"What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Rafe. What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Got a call from my lawyer. About Ward.”

The mention of his dad sends a chill down your spine. “What about him?”

Rafe’s thumb brushes your knuckles as he looks down. “He wants to talk.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Rafe's jaw tightens, and he lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. But every time I’ve tried to stand up to him, it’s backfired."

You squeeze his hand, “He can’t hurt you anymore, you know that, right? You're not the same person you were before," you remind him gently. "You've grown so much, Rafe. You’ve made your own life."

He looks up at you, his gaze softening. The intensity in his eyes is clear—vulnerability, determination, and a deep-seated fear. It's as if he’s silently pleading for your reassurance, for the strength to face his demons.

“You think so?”

It's in the way his eyes become softer when they meet yours, the slight quiver in his lips, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I…I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finish dinner, the conversation shifting to lighter topic. After cleaning up, you find yourselves back on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. 

Everything feels so domestic it pulls at your heartstrings. And it hits you how much you love this, just being here with him.

But you can still feel the tension rolling off him. You turn to him, tracing little patterns on his chest. “You’re still worried, huh?”

He sighs, throwing his head against the cushions, his hand coming up to rest on yours. "Yeah. I’m scared talking to him will pull me back into that dark place.”

You press a kiss to his clothed chest. “You won’t go back there. Not while I’m here.”

He tightens his hold on you, “You know you’re too good for this world. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes, “Am not.”

“Yeah, you are, Pretty Maybank.”

There it is. That nickname. “You know that’s so stupid, right?”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You love it.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “I tolerate it.”

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Fits you perfectly.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

“If you say so.”

His eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “I do.”

“Shup up,” You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t even know how you came up with that shit.”

Rafe laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his hand moving to rub your leg.  “It’s really stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “’Course it is.”

“Remember when we were fourteen, and we were both at the beach for that huge surf competition? You were this cocky, skilled little girl with an ego bigger than the waves.”

“And you were a suck-up mother—"

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you were secretly in awe of me?”

“Maybe,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Or maybe I was just bitter because you made me look bad.”

“I made everyone look bad.”

“Okay, Gabriel Medina. You were out there showing off, making everyone watch you like you owned the ocean. All the boys were ogling you, calling you pretty, and you were loving every second of it.”

You smirk, remembering the day. "I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

“Good?” He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers trail up and down your thigh. “You were more than good, you were unreal.”

"Yeah, yeah, so how does that tie into the nickname?”

“You came out of the water, hair all messy, sand on your skin, but you had this huge smile. One of the boys called you 'Pretty Maybank,' and you just laughed, brushing it off. But I— I guess I remembered it. It fit you.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, "I...I didn’t know you remembered that."

“You’re kinda hard to forget Maybank.”

Your heart flutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to breathe, “Shut up.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. It only lasts a few seconds, before you’re pulling away, mumbling against his lips.

 “You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”

“That’s so sweet.”

You cup his face, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, “Hmm. You were always showing off, too.”

“Well,” he drawls, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, “We both grew out of that phase. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you agree with a grin. “But I guess some things never change.”

“Yeah,” He doesn't take his eyes off your face, “Some things don’t change. 

There’s a brief silence, filled with the quiet sound of the TV and the comfortable presence of each other. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your hand, and you can feel his earlier stress easing if only a little.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” He admits quietly, “With you.”

“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Rafe’s fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah, we have.”

“I’ll keep you in check, Cameron.”

He holds you tighter, his breath mingling with yours. “You're too good for me, y’know that?”

You laugh, “I know.”

Before you can react, his fingers are dancing across your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You squeal, wriggling and trying to escape his grasp, but he’s relentless.

"Rafe!” You gasp between fits of laughter.

"Say sorry,” he demands, his fingers still working their magic.

"Never!" you manage to choke out, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

He grins wickedly, the movement driving your tummy insane.

"Wrong answer."

You squirm in his grip, the tickling intensifying. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you finally relent, breathless and giggling.

Rafe stops, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His grin is triumphant, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. "That's what I thought," he muses, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You catch your breath, still smiling. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough guy, you’re surprisingly good at this domestic stuff."

He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're nestled against him.

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Pretty Maybank."

"I like this," you admit softly. "Being here with you, just... us."

"Me too," Rafe murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Feels right, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does.”

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Three weeks later, Rafe finally agrees to visit Ward in prison.

His lawyer arranged the meeting, emphasizing the importance of having this conversation to find closure. Despite your protests, Rafe insisted on doing this alone. Plus, prison's security measures are stringent, and there’s no way you could accompany him inside.

Instead, you’re stuck waiting outside, the anxiety killing you slowly. You're sitting on a bench outside the high-security prison, your foot tapping nervously against the ground.

The sun is blazing, making the wait even more unbearable. You wish you could be in there with him, supporting him. You glance at the ugly building, feeling desperate to get the hell away. Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. It’s a text from JJ.

"how's it going?"

You quickly type back.

"he just went in. kinda losing my mind out here."

"he’ll be okay. devil spawn and all yk".

"not helping???"

"my bad sis, just trying to lighten the mood. seriously though, he's got this."

You sigh, putting your phone down and glancing around the barren surroundings. The high walls and barbed wire of the prison seem to loom even larger now. Time drags on, every minute feels like an hour. You find yourself looking at the entrance every few seconds, hoping to see Rafe walk out.

Inside, Rafe is led through a maze of corridors, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the cold concrete walls. The guards are stoic, their faces expressionless as they guide him to the visitation room. His heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself to stay calm, to stay focused. He's going to be just fine.

When he finally walks in the room, he sees Ward already seated, the older man looking surprisingly composed. Of course he'd care about his appearance even when he's locked up. There's a glass partition between them, with phones on either side for communication. Rafe sits down, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He wishes you were here. 

Ward's eyes are piercing as they lock onto Rafe's. "Look who finally decided to visit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Took you time, boy."

Rafe takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Only came to tell you something."

Ward raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? And what's that? That you’re an ungrateful piece of shit?”

Ignore him, your voice echoes in his head. He knew Ward was going to try to get a rise out of him and he hates that it might work.

"I'm done," Rafe says, his voice steady. "You don't control me anymore."

“After everything I've done for you?"

Rafe's grip on the phone tightens. "You didn't do shit for me. You did it for yourself."

Ward leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. You need me."

"No, I don't," Rafe retorts, “No one needs you.”

Ward's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly masks it with a calculating smile. "Is that what you really think, son? That you can just walk away from everything? From me?"

Rafe feels a rush of anger fighting it's way up his throat, but he holds it back, remembering your words. He takes another breath, steadying himself, “I don’t care.”

Ward's smile fades, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're so strong now, don't you? Do you think you can survive out there without my influence? The world is a cruel place, Rafe. You won't last a day. You think that Maybank trash is gonna solve all your problems, huh?”

“You’re not getting under my skin.”

Ward's eyes narrow further, and he leans in closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it’s about her now, is it? What makes you think she’ll be any better for you than I was? She doesn’t know you like I do."

Rafe’s temper flares, but he forces himself to stay calm. He can’t take the bait.

"Keep her out of this.”

“You think you’re so righteous, so superior. You’ll need more than just some girl to get you through.”

“I don’t need you,” Rafe insists, his voice firm. “I never did.” 

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger. “You can pretend you’re free, but you know I’m not so easily forgotten.”

Rafe takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “I don’t need to hear anything else from you. I’m done.”

“You won’t be able to keep her safe.”

He knew the conversation wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

He stands up abruptly, the phone clattering against the partition as he drops it. He doesn't need to hear Ward any more. He turns his back on his father and walks out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. As he walks back through the maze of corridors, his thoughts turn to you, knowing you’re outside overthinking and ready to hug the live out of him. 

He’s striding to you the moment he sees you. You're still on the bench, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but it’s no use. You jump up, rushing over to him. You’re always so endearing to him it pains him to know he hurt you so badly over the years.

“You okay?”

Rafe’s arms wrap around you, finally breathing normally. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as if you can protect him from the Ward’s harshness. “I was going crazy waiting out here.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Rafe murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” You pull back slightly, your hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch, “You did what you needed to do. And I’m proud of you.”

He smiles a small, tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You nod, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “For what?” you ask, leaning into him again. “You did great, baby. You stood up to him. That takes so much strength.”

You take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the prison. His grip is strong, his palm warm against yours. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the only sound the gravel crunching beneath your feet. You glance at him, noting the way his shoulders have relaxed a litte.

“I felt it. Like a weight lifting off me. It’s not completely gone, but it’s lighter.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. Your free hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. It had grown so much over the past few weeks. “And it’ll keep getting lighter,” you assure him. 

“You think?”

“I know. You’ll keep needing to stand up to him,” you acknowledge, “But it will get easier each time.”

His hand brushes a stray hair from your face, copying your earlier movement. “And you’ll be here with me?”

“Always.”

Rafe’s expression softens, the hard edges smoothed away by the promise in your words. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His lips linger there.

“You really are too good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, the sound blending with the hum of the car engines in the distance.

“I know.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away, but it’s a different kind of intensity than you’re used to seeing in him. It’s softer, more open, and entirely focused on you.

“Let’s go home."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Abuse ~ Part 1

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,160ish

Summary: You are a human working at Xavier's School. You are in an abusive relationship with a guy named Josh. Logan wants to do something about it.

Warnings: abuse (mental, physical, emotional), rape, injuries, triggers

Notes: Seriously, do not read if this will trigger you. You are in charge of what you consume. This will be split into 2 parts.

You weren’t a mutant, but you did work at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Charles recruited you to teach the primary-age students. It was unusual for a human to teach at the school, but Charles had heard that you had lost your teaching job due to standing up for a mutant student and believed you were a perfect addition to the school.

It was no surprise to Charles that you quickly formed a tight bond with many of the students and the staff. And that included the brooding history teacher, Logan. Logan hadn’t given you the warmest welcome, questioning Charles’ decision to bring a human on board, but it didn’t take long for you to wear him down.

Being a teacher sometimes meant working past contract hours, meaning you didn’t return home to your boyfriend. You had a room at the school, next to Logan’s, that you would use on really late nights. But you did your best to get home to your boyfriend every night you reasonably could.

You and your boyfriend, Josh, had been together for four years while you’d been working at the school for a year. The two of you have been living together for three years. Josh was there when you graduated from university and started your first teaching job, cheering you on. But slowly, your cheerleader turned into your worst nightmare. It started with verbal and emotional abuse, always putting you down for every little thing. The physical abuse started when you lost your job. Josh was anti-mutants and thought it was ridiculous for you to stand up for one. He slapped you for the first time that night.

It became a regular routine that if you were home too late for Josh’s liking, you would get a stern beating. At first, you had become an expert at hiding the scratches and bruises. But as the abuse continued, it started to wear you down. Those at the mansion began to notice little things, especially the fact that you weren’t as easily happy and smiley as you once were.

Logan noticed something was up almost as soon as he met you. Your smiles and laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were clearly fooling everyone but not him. The first few weeks of your arrival, Logan tried to observe you. You would try to make small talk with him in the hallways and in the faculty room, but he would simply grunt in response. He listened in on conversations that you had with others, quickly learning that you lived with your boyfriend Josh. He noticed that your heartbeat would quicken in a way he didn’t like when you talked about Josh. It was more fear than love, making him concerned. There was also the fact that no one had ever met the man.

One night, Logan saw you still in your classroom. It was late, but he wasn’t sure you realized it.

“You spendin’ the night?” He asked, leaning against the doorway.

Your eyes snapped to the clock. “Shit,” you muttered. You quickly began stuffing papers into your backpack. “It’s late.”

“Too late for the bus that you usually catch.”

“Shit,” you repeated. 

“Just stay the night. There’s a room next to mine that you’ve barely used.”

“I can’t.” You shook your head. Logan could sense your anxiety rising. “I need to go.”

“Do you think that’s—“

“I can’t stay!”

Your outburst took Logan back. “Okay… then need a ride?”

“No. I—I can walk.”

Logan scoffed. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive, but that doesn’t mean it’s a quick walk.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and headed for you. “Let me take you.”

“Logan, I—“

“No, arguments.” He grabbed your bag and swung it over his shoulder. His brows knitted together as he noticed how you tensed at his movements. “Let’s go.”

~~~

The two of you kept quiet the whole drive to your apartment. Logan could hear your heartbeat get faster and faster the closer the two of you got to your place. Your fingers anxiously tapped against your knees.

“You alright?” Logan asked, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“Fine,” you squeaked.

“You sure? You seem a bit anxious.”

“Just want to be home.”

Logan nodded. “How’s, uh… how’s Josh?”

“He’s… fine…”

“Good.” Logan pulled over and parked in front of your building. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Logan.” You reached back and grabbed your backpack. “See you in the morning.”

Logan quickly grabbed your wrist before you could slip out of the car. You tensed under his touch. “Let me know if you need me to pick you up in the morning.”

You pressed out a smile. “I’ll be fine. Thanks again.”

You pulled your wrist from his light grip, shut the door, and entered the building. Logan sat there for a moment. There was something wrong, he could tell. But he didn’t know you enough to force it out of you. With a sigh, he drove off.

~~~

Josh had seen Logan drop you off. He was furious, accusing you of cheating. He beat you up and, for the first time, raped you that night. You called in sick the next day.

That was months ago now. You and Logan were now dear friends, and you were careful not to anger Josh like that again. Logan had noticed that you were on edge more than normal, easily spooked, and wearing many layers despite the weather. 

“Somethin’s wrong,” Logan muttered as he entered your classroom.

“What?” You questioned, pulling your gaze from the test that you had been trying to grade for the last ten minutes.

“Somethin’s wrong, and you’re not telling anyone—telling me.”

“I’m fine, Logan. Just tired.”

Logan scoffed. “Then you’ve been tired since you started working here, and it’s been getting worse. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you’re coming to the staff party tomorrow night, right?”

“I can’t. Josh—“

“Bring Josh. We’d all like to meet him.”

“I can’t go.”

“If I have to go, you have to go. You know how much I hate events like these.”

“Then don’t go.”

“There you are!” Ororo exclaimed, coming into the room. “Jean and I are going to go dress shopping in the morning for tomorrow’s party. You want to come?”

“I don’t know—“

“She’d love to,” Logan replied for you.

“Great!” Ororo replied, clapping. “Jean and I will pick you up from your apartment. See you!”

You stood up angrily and began throwing things into your bag. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” your voice was more shaky than your movements. “I need to go.”

“I’ll drive you,” Logan offered.

“No! You’ve done enough!” A stray tear trailed down your cheek.

“Y/N…” Logan reached out quickly to stop your movements, but you flinched away. Logan’s eyes went wide at your reaction.

“I’ve got to go,” you hurried out of the classroom.

It took a moment for Logan to bury the anger threatening to boil over and rush after you. “Y/N!” You winced at his raised voice as you continued out of the mansion and towards the bus stop. “Wait!”

“Leave me alone, Logan!” You shouted after him, trying to stop the tears that wanted to escape.

“Y/N—“ 

His fingers caught your elbow, trying to turn you around. As soon as Logan’s fingers touched you, you were on the ground, trying to scramble away from him. Logan froze yet again, staring down at you with wide eyes. You were now curled in on yourself, sobbing.

“Please,” you cried. “Please don’t hurt me… I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’ll go… I’ll do whatever you want…”

Logan dropped to his knees slowly so as not to scare you off. His hands clenched his fists against his legs to stop himself from reaching out for you and to try to prevent his claws from coming out. He was going to kill whoever made you like this, and he had a sneaking suspicion of who that might be. He sat there, waiting for you to calm down. Eventually, you did calm down and were horrified at what had happened. Quickly sitting up, you couldn’t get yourself to look at Logan. You didn't want the pity or the anger or the concern. You grabbed your bag and stood up. Logan rushed to his feet.

“I’ve got to go,” you muttered.

“No,” Logan’s voice wasn’t loud, but the tone was clear. He did not want you to leave.

“Logan… please let me go. You’ll only make it worse.”

“You’re not going back there unless you can promise me that he’s not abusing you.” You closed your eyes, biting your lip as you tried to hold back the sobs. “I knew it. You’re not going anywhere near him again.”

“It’s not your choice, Logan… I… I love him, and he loves me. He’s just… going through a rough time right now, and I don’t always make it better.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “You are not going back there.”

“I have to… he’s all I have.” You stepped back, causing Logan to quickly take a couple of steps closer. “Let me go, Logan. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can… you’ve been doing it for a year now. This is no different.”

Your words hit Logan harder than he could have ever imagined. You have been going through this as long as you’ve known each other, perhaps even longer. He grew angry at himself for not trusting his instinct that something was wrong sooner. You could see that Logan was tearing himself apart inside. Hoping that it would distract him enough, you ran off barely making it to the bus on time. 

Logan broke out of his guilt spiral too late. He ran after you, but the bus was already down the road. He slowed to a stop, watching as the bus faded in the distance. His anger wanted him to race to your apartment and pull you out of whatever situation might greet you, but he knew it wasn’t the best choice. He needed to talk to someone—to people who cared about you.

~~~

“Thanks for coming,” Logan mumbled, trying to keep himself together. 

Logan’s hands were stuffed into his jeans as he tried to keep his claws in check. He was standing near one of the windows in Charles’ office, having asked him to call everyone there. Jean, Scott, Ororo, Hank, and Charles were all seated around the office, waiting for Logan to speak up.

“Y/N’s being abused,” he came right out and said it.

“What?” / “No!”

Logan immediately noticed Jean and Charles share a look. He stepped forward. “You knew,” he growled. “You both knew.”

“We’d seen things in passing,” Charles sighed. “We both have tried to talk to her about it, but Y/N would brush us off.”

“You let her go home to that hell every day?!”

“It was her choice. She wouldn’t confirm our suspicions and didn’t want any help.”

“There’s only so much we can do if Y/N doesn’t want our help,” Jean added.

“There’s plenty we can do!” Logan countered. “We can go over there and bring her back!”

“It needs to be her choice, Logan,” Ororo said calmly. “We can’t force her into anything. She’s already living that life.”

“I can’t—“ He groaned, slamming his fists down on Charles’ desk. “I can’t sit here and do nothing!”

“That’s not what they’re saying,” Hank spoke up. 

“We make sure she feels safe here,” Charles said. “We make sure she knows that we care.”

“Jean and I are going dress shopping with her in the morning,” Ororo said. “We’ll check on her there.”

“Actually, I just got a message from Y/N,” Jean said. “She’s not coming anymore but said that Josh and she will be at the party.”

“We will not make a big deal out of it,” Charles gave Logan a warning look. “We will welcome Josh and observe the two carefully.”

“That’s not enough,” Logan grumbled before marching out of the room.

~~~

You had wanted to go with Jean and Ororo dress shopping, but Josh told you that it was pointless. That you had plenty of dresses that he had wasted his money on that you could wear on your ugly body. Of course, he said all this after he beat you.

You were extremely nervous as Josh drove the two of you to the mansion. He knew that you taught mutants, only okay with it because it paid well, but the others didn’t know his distain for mutants. You couldn’t let the nerves get to you, or there would be consequences. Josh was already upset that you were “forcing” him to go, but you knew he was trying to stake his claim on you somehow.

Josh didn’t bother to help you out of the car once he parked. He sauntered straight over to the large door and turned back with a scowl.

“Stop being so slow,” he griped. 

When you were close enough, Josh grabbed your hand, gripping it tightly as a warning, before the two of you entered. There were more people invited to this party than you thought. Looking around, you realized there were faculty members, previous graduates, and whoever they chose to bring.

“I thought you said this was a small party,” Josh said through gritted teeth. His nails threatened to draw blood from your hand.

“It’s what I was told,” you responded quietly, trying not to stutter as your anxiety grew. “I didn't know.”

“Stupid bitch.”

The sound of wood splintering made you jump and face the direction of where it came from. Logan was standing near the top of the stairs, hands on the railing that was clearly crushed by his grip. You swallowed nervously as you met his angered gaze. You knew it wasn’t towards you, but it still didn’t ease any of your anxiety.

“Logan,” you called, trying to sound happy. “Come down and meet Josh.”

Logan grunted, stomping down the stairs. Ororo walked in at the perfect time, noticing that Logan’s eyes were set on Josh. As soon as Logan made it down the stairs, Ororo slipped her arm through his and walked up to you and Josh.

“Hello, you must be Josh,” Ororo greeted. “I’m Ororo. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Josh let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. “I hope all good things,” he responded, pinching your side. “And you’re Logan.”

“I am,” Logan replied, holding out his hand for Josh to take. Josh took it, and Logan quickly tightened his grip. 

Ororo quickly patted Logan’s arm, signaling for him to let go before he did anything more. Josh looked around, silently judging everyone who passed.

“I’ve never been around so many… mutants before,” Josh said, not hiding his disgust.

“Well, this is a school full of them,” Logan retorted.

“Ah! Here you are!” Charles rolled up, interrupting.

You quickly introduced Josh to Charles as Ororo pulled Logan away, promising him a drink.

~~~

Josh would not let you leave his grip the entire night. He was clearly on edge, which wasn’t helping your anxiety one bit. You kept finding Logan staring at the two of you from wherever he was located in the room. Though Logan was never too far. You were too busy thinking about Logan to notice Scott walking by with a drink. You stepped forward, causing Scott to trip and spill his drink all over Josh.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, man!” Scott quickly apologized.

Josh gritted his teeth as he forced a smile. “It’s fine,” he said. He gripped your wrist tightly, making you wince. “We should go.” He began dragging you out of the party. “You stupid bitch,” he reprimanded as soon as the two of you were outside. “You never watch where you’re going.”

“I’m sorry, Josh!” You were already crying. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be. Just wait until we get home.”

“Wait until what, bub?” Logan was suddenly behind the two of you.

“Stay out of this.” Josh pushed you into the back of the car, slamming the door.

“That’s no way to treat a lady.”

“She’s my lady. I decide how she’s treated.”

Logan growled, unable to prevent his claws from slowly pushing out of his fists. You rushed out of the car and placed yourself between Logan and Josh.

“Logan, go back inside,” you urged. “Josh and I are heading home. I’ll be fine.”

“Listen to the lady, wolf,” Josh taunted.

Logan stepped forward, only for you to stop him with a hand to his chest. “Logan,” you called again. His eyes snapped to yours. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t trust him,” he responded, voice tight. 

“Trust me then. I’ll be fine… I’ll call you if I need anything and see you on Monday, alright?” Logan growled. “Alright?”

“Fine,” Logan huffed. He stepped back, scowling at Josh, who simply smirked at him.

“Let’s go,” Josh said, pulling you back to the car. He helped you into the passenger side before driving the two of you off.

~~~

Logan couldn’t sleep that night. Not when Josh could be beating the shit out of you. He didn’t bother to change from the party, opting to pace his room. He was so caught in his head that he jumped when his phone began ringing.

“Y/N?” He answered it.

“L—Lo—Logan…” your trembling voice on the other end had Logan’s feet moving faster than he could think.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He raced down the stairs and towards the garage.

“I need help.”

“I’m coming. I’m on my way. Are you safe?”

“He’s—He’s gone… He left to get more beer…”

“I’ll be right there. Don’t hang up.”

“…Okay.”

Logan’s heart was breaking with each word you said. You sounded so broken, so helpless. He absolutely hated it. Stealing Scott’s car, Logan raced for your apartment. He had to get you out of there before Josh returned. Who knew what that man would do to you if he had found out you had called for help?

Logan was out of the car so quickly that he barely put it in park. He took multiple steps at a time to get to your door.

“Sweetheart? It’s me,” Logan said, knocking and opening the door at the same time.

The apartment was a disaster. Items laid thrown around the room, some of them broken. Logan carefully stepped in, looking around for you. He sniffed, trying to use his senses to follow you. His heart dropped as he smelled blood. He followed the scent over to the bedroom, pushing open the door fully. The room was practically destroyed as well.

“Sweetheart?” Logan whispered, trying not to spook you.

“Logan?” Your broken voice sounded from the corner of the closet. 

Logan was quick to come to you, the movements making you cower further into the corner. He held his hands up, trying to show that he meant no harm. His eyes scanned your naked form, all bloodied and bruised. Logan had to stuff down the anger that was growing for Josh. You needed to be his focus.

“You came…” you rasped, almost like you didn’t believe he would.

Just when Logan thought his heart couldn’t break anymore, it did. “Of course I did. We need to get you out of here before he comes back.” He quickly slipped his jacket off and held it out to you. “Put this on.” You shakily took it, slipped into it, and zipped it up. “I’m going to carry you out of here, alright?”

“Okay…”

Closing your eyes, you bit back a wince as Logan carefully picked you up. He kept you close as he hurried down the stairs. He gently set you in the car, making sure you were buckled in before driving off. Logan gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove you to the mansion.

You were still trembling when Logan pulled up to the mansion and carried you inside. Charles had warned the others of what had happened and ensured that Jean and Hank were already in the lab, ready and waiting. Logan set you down on the bed. Before he could fully pull away, you reached out and clutched onto his arm, fingers digging into his flesh.

“Don’t—“ you croaked. “Please, don’t leave…”

“Not planning on it, sweetheart,” he replied. “Just need a chair, and I’ll be right back.”

~~~

“She has a few broken ribs from tonight as well as various fractures,” Hank explained. You were on the other side of the lab, asleep, with Scott, Charles, Jean, Ororo, and Logan listening to Hank on the other. “Jean and I have stitched up the cuts and bandaged whatever needed. She has bruises of various ages that we have to watch, but we put ointment on them. Y/N will need a lot of rest and patience.”

“Has she said anything?” Ororo wondered.

Jean shook her head. “Not since requesting Logan to stay,” she responded. 

“That is to be expected,” Charles added. “She has spent years living in a traumatic environment. It will not be easy to break out of the habits and mindset she created to survive. She needs our care and patience the most, and we must respect her boundaries as she asks for them.”

“Jean and I are willing to split her classes so that she can take all the time she needs,” Ororo said.

Logan’s eyes were locked on you, waiting for you to wake. You had requested that he not leave your side, so he needed to make sure he was right there when you woke.

“I’ve already contacted a well-known therapist and asked them to stay with us for a while,” Charles informed. “I believe that it could help us all process whatever we need to.” He looked at Logan, who he knew was taking the blame on himself. “We should let her rest.”

“I’m not leaving her side,” Logan vowed.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

~~~

The world felt heavy as you began to wake. But it was different, heavier than what had weighed you down the past four years. Like you were more on your own than you ever were before. It took you a moment to realize that you were in the lab under the mansion. Looking around, your eyes eventually stayed on Logan. He was in a chair next to you, passed out. His head had fallen against his shoulder with his feet perched up at the end of your bed. Logan’s position didn’t look that comfortable, but you were grateful that he hadn’t left your side.

“Logan,” you tried to wake the sleeping man beside you. “Logan.”

Logan suddenly snapped away. His feet fell off the bed, landing harshly on the ground. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?” He was looking around like he needed to protect you.

“Sorry,” you apologized with a light laugh. “You just looked uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah.” He ran a hand down his face, trying to wipe the rest of the sleep from his eyes. “The chair’s not that comfortable. But I’d do it again.”

“You can go to your room, Logan. I’m fine… I think.”

Logan shook his head and moved his chair closer. “Not very convincing, darlin’. Also, you asked me to stay, so I’m staying.”

“Why? I’m… weak, and I’m terrible, and I’m stupid—“

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. None of that.”

“Why?” Tears streamed down your face. “It’s true.”

“None of it is true. It lies that—that Josh told you.” Watching for your reaction carefully, Logan took your hands in his. “You are better than him, sweetheart. You are better than what he made you believe you are. Trust me.”

“I… I don’t know how… to trust you… to trust myself.”

“You’ll learn.” 

“I… I don’t deserve your help.” You pulled your hands from his grip and looked away.

He sighed, carefully moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “Sweetheart, look at me.” It was such a gentle demand, but your head snapped to follow it. Logan immediately looked remorseful, realizing that he had caused you to do. The tears were still falling down your cheeks, causing his heart to sink. “Y/N, you deserve help. You know it, that’s why you called me.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have—“

“Yes, you should have. And you should have done it sooner… Y/N… I…” He groaned, clenching his jaw and looking away. He needed to keep his emotions in check. You were what was important here, not him. “You could have died… Hank said that you could have internally bled out if the hits had been a bit different. I can’t—I won’t let that happen. You are worth more than some… some dick who thinks owns you.”

“I’m not—“

“Yes. You. Are. And we—I will spend as long as it takes to get you to believe that.”

“That might be a long time…”

“Good thing I have forever.”

Part 2 >

[iamgonnagetyouback]

second request, and this one is frost bite ❄️ prompt 29 with theo, i just think it’s sooo him!! thanks <3

Yes, yes it is him! In fact, I am so happy you requested this with him cause I wrote this prompt thinking about him only (๑>◡<๑)

ivy's 1k celebration ❄️ navigation ❄️ prompt list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ THEODORE NOTT #29: "Are you flirting with me or just bored?" "Maybe I'm bored of you not flirting back."

Theodore Nott had been relentless all afternoon. Every time you glanced up from your book, he was already looking at you, smirking like he had some grand secret. Finally, you set down your quill, unable to ignore him any longer.

“Alright, Theo, what is it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He tilted his head, still grinning that infuriating grin. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking how tragic it is that you keep pretending you don’t want to be close to me.”

You let out an amused scoff. “Close to you? Theo, please. I’m sitting here trying to study, and you’re the one doing all the staring.”

“Because I don’t need to study, I'm smart,” he said, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, I’m just here for the view.” His gaze dropped pointedly to your lips, and you felt a flutter of heat rise in your cheeks. He was shameless.

“Oh, you’re here for the view?” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Well, enjoy it, because 'the view' is all you’re getting.”

His smirk only widened. “We’ll see about that, love.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Are you flirting with me, or just really, really bored?”

Theo’s eyes sparkled with challenge. “Maybe I'm bored of you not flirting back.”

You laughed, giving him an amused once-over. “Right, because clearly, I’m so smitten with you.”

Theo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, playful whisper. “Admit it. You love the attention. You’d miss it if I stopped.”

You narrowed your eyes, a teasing glint flashing in them. “Oh? And what would you do if I flirted back? I don't think your poor heart will be able to handle it.”

He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, but you caught it—and his expression softened just enough to reveal a flicker of surprise. “And you're underestimating my 'poor heart', amore mio. But to answer your question, I’d say it’s about time you stopped hiding your feelings.”

You laughed, hiding the blush that was threatening to escape at the endearment, leaning a bit closer, just close enough to see a faint blush dusting his cheeks despite the smirk he was trying to keep up. “Maybe I will… if you’re lucky.”

And before he could reply, you reached up, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. His smirk faltered, replaced with a look of stunned surprise as his cheeks went a shade darker.

You pulled back with a coy smile, meeting his eyes for one last glance before standing up. “See you around, Nott,” you said, turning to walk away.

As you left, you made sure to add just a little extra sway to your hips, feeling his gaze practically burn into your back. When you risked a quick look over your shoulder, there he was, watching you with wide eyes and a mixture of admiration and pure disbelief.

And for once, Theo Nott was absolutely, beautifully speechless.

[wolverigrl]

Baby Bump and Tears

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I cried. But I think it’s good to end things when they are at their highest peak. Thank you for your support and love for this fanfiction! <3

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, emotional, it's the last part

Enjoy! xoxo

Previous Part

---------------------------------------------------

As I curl up on the couch beside Hugh, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace and joy that’s almost too much to hold. Our world has shifted, filled with love, excitement, and anticipation.

This baby… our baby.

Just thinking it makes my heart swell. I reach down, almost reflexively, to rest my hand on my belly, feeling a little thrill. It’s so small now, barely even there, but it’s ours. I glance up at Hugh, who’s watching me with that warm, gentle look, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, right now.

His hand comes to rest on my knee, warm and steady, and I let out a soft breath, leaning into him, my head against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to my temple, the gentle touch calming and grounding. “You ready?” he asks, his voice soft, almost reverent.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes, and it fills me with so much love I feel like I might burst!

I nod, my throat suddenly tight with emotion as I press play on the first video.

The screen lights up with the familiar sight of Chris’s living room, filled with laughter and warmth. Just seeing my best friend's face instantly makes me smile.

We’ve been close for years, a bond that feels like family, like having an older brother who’s always been there, looking out for me. Sharing this news with him had been something I’d dreamed of, and now, watching it all over again, it feels even more special. I sometimes find it strange that we had a fling together many years ago, but I'm incredibly thankful that it didn't ruin our friendship.

On the screen, Chris and his siblings, Scott, Shana and Carly, are packed onto the couch. The energy is buzzing, with Hugh holding up the phone, trying to wrangle everyone into a “photo.” I can feel the anticipation from that day all over again, the little tremor of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside me. I remember exchanging a glance with Hugh, both of us barely holding back laughter. It felt like we were sharing a precious secret, and we couldn’t wait to let everyone in on it.

“Alright, everyone, say cheese!” my voice comes through the phone, high-pitched and almost breathless with excitement.

Chris leans in close, throwing an arm around me, and his siblings follow suit, all grinning, not knowing what’s about to happen.

“Cheeeeeese!” he says, hamming it up with a goofy grin, and I remember feeling a surge of love and gratitude for him.

For all of them.

And then, just as everyone settles into the “photo”, Hugh blurts it out, his voice full of pride and excitement:

“Y/n’s pregnant!”

The room falls silent for a heartbeat, and then—chaos.

Chris’s face goes blank with shock, his eyes widening as he processes the words, and then, as if a light switches on, his expression shifts to pure joy. He lets out this loud, ecstatic laugh, one that I can feel deep in my bones, and he practically tackles me in a bear hug, squeezing so tight I can barely breathe.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” he exclaims, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, his own shining with disbelief and excitement. “Seriously? This- this is incredible!” He grips my shoulders, his voice softening as he looks at me, his face full of something so pure and real it nearly brings me to tears. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom! I just know it!”

I nod, laughing and crying all at once, the happiness so big it feels like it’s radiating out of me.

“Yes, Chris! It’s real!” I say, my voice catching on the last word, and he wraps me in another hug, his arms around me like a promise that he’ll always be there, always a part of this family.

The rest of his siblings are cheering, reaching out to hug both me and Hugh, their joy spilling over, and I feel surrounded by love, a warmth that makes me feel so incredibly lucky. I catch Hugh’s eye over the happy chaos, and he’s watching me with this quiet awe, his face soft as he sees me embraced by my friends.

As the clip ends, I wipe a tear from my cheek, unable to stop smiling. I turn to Hugh, my voice barely a whisper, full of all the love and gratitude I feel.

“He's the best. He loves us, Hugh. Loves this baby already. I can’t believe we have friends who care this much..”

Hugh’s arm tightens around me, and he brushes his lips over my temple, his own eyes glistening. “You’re right. We’re so lucky to have him… all of them. And I’m so lucky to have you.” His voice drops, filled with a soft intensity that makes my heart race.

“I love you. You’re my everything, and this—us, this family—it’s my whole world.”

I look up at him, our faces close, and he kisses me, slow and deep, his hand resting on my cheek. In that moment, it’s like the whole world fades away, and there’s only us, together, ready to step into this new chapter.

When we pull back, I swipe to the next clip. I can feel my heart starting to pound again, this time with an almost nervous excitement, as I see the screen light up with the faces of Hugh’s family. His mom is sitting beside him on her cozy couch, with Oscar and Ava snuggled up next to me, their expressions already bright with anticipation. Just seeing their faces on the screen makes me feel this deep, comforting warmth.

They’ve embraced me from the start, made me feel like I truly belong, and sharing this news with them had felt like a sacred moment.

In the video, Hugh lifts the phone, settling us all into the frame. I remember holding his hand, feeling its warmth, and taking a deep breath, steadying myself.

“Okay, everyone, say cheese!” he says, grinning as he raises the camera.

“Cheeeese!” everyone says, laughing, leaning in closer to one another. I glance at Hugh, feeling that bubbling excitement again, and he gives me a small nod, encouraging me to go ahead.

“I'm pregnant!” I say, my voice carrying just enough that everyone hears, and then I hold my breath, watching their faces.

Hugh’s mom’s reaction is instant.

Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening with surprise, and then they fill with tears as she lets out a soft, happy laugh. “Oh, darling!” she says, her voice trembling with joy as she reaches over to embrace me. “Sweetheart, that’s… that’s wonderful!” Her voice is filled with so much warmth and love that I feel myself tearing up all over again, and I hug her tightly, feeling truly, deeply welcomed.

Oscar is smiling, trying to keep his composure, but I can see the pride in his eyes as he looks at Hugh. He reaches out to hug him tightly. “Congrats, Dad! I’m really happy for you too!” he says with a steady voice which is filled with unspoken love.

And then Ava practically launches herself into my arms, her face shining with excitement. “I’m gonna be a big sister!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck and holding me so tight I feel her heart pounding against mine.

“Yes, you are, Ava!” I laugh, hugging her back just as tightly, feeling this overwhelming sense of love and connection. This is our family, and they’re already embracing this baby as one of their own.

I blink back the tears that are gathering in my eyes in the present, wiping them away again as Hugh reaches out to hold my hand. “They were so happy..” I murmur, my voice trembling with emotion. “They really, truly love us..”

He squeezes my hand, his voice soft but steady as he says, “Of course they do, baby. You’re their family. And this baby will be so loved.” He pauses, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

“Just like you.”

The last clip is the one I’ve been holding onto, the one that feels the most personal, the most precious. It’s the video of my mom and my stepdad, Brian, whom I’ve always called “Dad”. He’s been there for me through everything, a constant, steady presence. I knew this news would mean everything to him, and to my mom, but there was something about calling him “Granddad” that felt so special and so right.

I tap play, and there we are, gathered around their kitchen table, just as we’d done so many times.

The comforting smell of my mom’s cooking, the warmth of their home, it all floods back to me. Hugh and I had been sitting across from them, exchanging little glances, both of us barely holding back our excitement.

“Alright, let’s get a picture together!” I say, lifting the camera as if it’s just another ordinary family snapshot.

They lean in, smiling, unsuspecting, and I feel my heart pound as I look at them, so full of love and warmth. Finally, I say it, my voice soft but clear: “We’re having a baby.”

For a second, they’re silent.

My mom’s hand goes to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she looks from me to Hugh, and then she lets out a small, joyful laugh, her face lighting up. “Oh, my baby… this is… this is everything!” She leans forward, pulling me into her arms, her voice trembling as she whispers, “I’m so happy for you!”

I sink into my mom’s embrace, feeling her arms around me, warm and steady, like they’ve always been.

She holds me tight, not letting go, and I can hear the emotion in her breathing, the little tremble that says more than words could ever say. She finally pulls back to look at me, her hands cupping my face, her eyes shining with the same love she’s given me all my life.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice so full of pride and tenderness that it makes my chest ache. “You’re going to be an incredible mother. I knew it the first day you held your baby cousin! You have so much love to give. And Hugh…” She glances at him, her smile soft and full of approval. “Thank you. I see how you look at her—you’ve always looked at her like she’s the most important thing in the world.”

Hugh reaches over, taking my mom’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, his own eyes misty.

“Thank you, Barb, really. I don’t even have words..” he says quietly. “I promise I’ll love her and this baby with everything I have.”

And then, Brian just stares at me, his face unreadable at first, and then, like the emotions are too big to contain, he lets out a breathy laugh and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms and kissing my forehead.

“Oh, my little girl..” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. I can feel him trembling slightly, a side of him I rarely see. “I can’t believe it… I couldn’t be prouder, sweetheart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and now you’re bringing another beautiful soul into this world.” He leans back, blinking a few times as he fights back tears. I let out a shaky laugh and look at him lovingly. “You're gonna be a grandpa and you will be just as good as you are as a father.”

His tears broke like a dam and he began to chuckle. Brian pulled my mom and Hugh into our arms.

I see my dad looking over at Hugh with a warmth that’s unmistakable. “Thank you, Hugh. You are a good man.”

In the present, watching this clip play out, I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face again. I feel Hugh’s arm wrap around me even tighter, holding me close as I quietly wipe my cheeks, laughing softly at my own emotions.

“He’s… he’s been my dad my whole life, and seeing him like that, it just makes everything feel so real. They���re all going to be such incredible grandparents!”

Hugh’s hand moves to cradle my cheek, turning me gently so I’m looking right at him. “You’re everything to them, y/n. And to me. They’re so proud of you… and I’m proud of you too. I can’t wait to see you as a mother. I know you’re gonna be amazing.”

I can barely speak, my heart so full that words feel inadequate. I reach up to touch his face, my fingers grazing his beard as I take in every detail, the warmth in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips, the depth of love there that’s just for me.

“I’m so happy and thankful you’re by my side, Hugh. I don’t think I could do this with anyone else.”

We both lean in, and our lips meet in a slow, tender kiss, one that says all the things we don’t need to say out loud—the love, the promises, the future we’re building together. As we pull back, he rests his forehead against mine, a soft smile on his face.

“You, me, Oscar, Ava and this little one.” he murmurs, resting a hand gently on my stomach. “Our family. I’m so ready for this.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath, letting myself savor this feeling. It’s overwhelming but beautiful, and I know that as long as I have Hugh, our family and friends by our side, everything will be okay. It’s all more than I could have ever dreamed of.

Finally, I close the video app, locking my phone and setting it aside, then turn to Hugh again, feeling like I’m holding my whole heart in my hands as I look at him.

“We’re so blessed..” I whisper, the words spilling out in a soft, heartfelt murmur. “I don’t know how we got so lucky, but I’m so, so grateful.”

He pulls me into his arms, holding me as if he’ll never let go.

Our life, our love, this baby—it’s all a gift, one I’ll cherish with everything I have.

In this moment, I know that our future is going to be beautiful. And I’m ready for every single step.

---

Later that evening, with Hugh’s arms still wrapped around me, I glance at my phone and the idea hits me. The clips—each precious moment of joy, shock, and laughter from our family and friends. I can already imagine how special it would be to share this journey with everyone who has supported us. “What if we… posted it?” I ask, looking up at Hugh with a little smile.

He chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “You think the world’s ready for it?”

“Only one way to find out!” I say, excitement bubbling in my chest.

“We’ll show them how fun this journey has been from the very beginning. Plus, you know they’d find out anyway.”

With a grin, I start piecing together the clips, feeling a wave of happiness wash over me with each reaction we captured. Chris’s delighted laughter, Hugh’s mom’s joyful tears, and my own parent’s emotional embrace—they all blend into a beautiful, joyful montage that feels like a celebration of everything we’re about to embark on. I add some soft music and finish it with a little clip of me and Hugh laughing in our living room, the camera turning to show his hand resting protectively on my belly. I feel a soft, fluttery nervousness in my chest as I write the caption:

>>y/n instagram: When you’ve got the best family and friends to help you share the biggest news of your life… Baby Jackman is already so loved💕 Get ready, world—this little one’s going to have the coolest, funniest aunts, uncles, and grandparents around!😎❤️<<

Hugh chuckles as I hit post, and almost instantly, the notifications start flooding in. Friends, fans, and family—everyone’s reaction lights up my screen, and each new comment makes me smile even wider.

Right at the top of the comments, I spot Ryan's unmistakable reply:

>>vancityreynolds: Finally, someone to keep Hugh in line. Congrats on creating a future little Wolverine… or at least a very hairy child.<<

Hugh bursts into laughter beside me, shaking his head. “Of course he’d say that!”

I scroll down, spotting even more replies:

>>chrisevans: Counting down the days until I’m officially the cool uncle. So, so happy for you both!!!❤️<<

>>zendaya: I can already tell this kid’s going to have the best sense of humor. Congrats, you two!😍<<

>>therock: Hugh, let me know when the little one’s ready for some ‘Baby’s First Workout’ tip🤪 Much love to you both!❤️<<

>>blakelively: Congrats babes! Let me know if you need tips on handling an overexcited Ryan😂❤️<<

Fan comments start rolling in too, filling up with heart emojis, funny congratulations, and even more excitement about “Baby Jackman.”

And as the comments keep pouring in, I can’t stop smiling. Here we are, surrounded by love, joy, and humor from the people closest to us—and even from a few who like to tease us along the way.

This is everything I could have dreamed of and more..

.

.

.

The End.

---

Tags:

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sylviavf @bethexo07 @rachb629 @chronicallybubbly @marvelgirlie-4 @khxna

[achilles-rage]

good luck charm: bonus drabble

come and get your love

summary: after a hard day, you do something to cheer evan up.

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist

a/n: this might be stupid, but it was fun to write and i think it’s cute so sue me!! sigh, i miss good luck charm evan, and i'm sorry this took so long, i just couldn't think of any scenarios i really wanted to tell. if you have any drabble ideas for this series, i'm happy to hear them! enjoy<33

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re in the bedroom putting away some laundry when you hear the front door slam, and you jump in surprise, a frown making its way onto your face immediately. You know exactly what that door slam means; Evan has had a bad day. 

“Hi, baby.” you say, peeking your head over the railing and looking at him in the kitchen getting some water. You offer him a small smile when he looks up at you, and although he gives you a smile back, you can tell it’s fake even from up in the loft. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you sigh sadly.

When you make it to the bottom of the stairs and walk towards him standing near the fridge, you wrap your arms around his neck and raise up onto your toes to give him a kiss. You feel the way he melts into your embrace, and it’s almost as if you can feel all of the stress radiating off of his body; it’s practically suffocating you, and you can’t even imagine how he feels.

“Rough day?” you ask, and he nods once, jaw clenched.

He’s been working extremely hard the past few weeks at the LAFD training academy, and while he comes home most days exhausted but content, there’s some days where he can get overwhelmed.

“You have no idea.” he tells you, his hands finding their way to your hips. You give him a sad smile, then pull him down for another kiss, hoping to get him to relax a little bit more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He huffs at your question, thinking for a moment. He knows it would be better to get it out of his system, but he doesn’t want to dump it all on you. He knows how hard you’ve been working at your new job, and he doesn’t want you worrying about him as well.

“Hey, we don’t keep stuff in, that’s not what we do. You told me that.” you urge him softly when he doesn’t reply right away. He sighs, a smile fighting its way onto his face at your reminder. He nods after a moment, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

“The physical stuff is fine, I’m passing everything easily. Just- The instructors say stuff; try to get into your head. It just got to me today.” he explains with a frown. You nod your head as he speaks, keeping your gaze locked with his. When he’s finished you tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, you raise your brows.

“Do you want to tell me what they said today that got you so worked up?” you urge. You don’t necessarily want to push him, but you know that he needs to talk it out, so you keep your eyes on him, as if pleading with him to tell you.

“We were doing this drill today, and there were a bunch of dummies. They gave them all back stories to make them feel real. I don’t know, I guess I just got caught up in it and in my mind they were real people, because they will be one day. I tried to go back into the building even when some of the other guys let the fire get out of hand because there were still a few dummies left in the building, and some guys had to hold me back.” he says in one big breath, and you follow along with furrowed brows, hoping he’ll continue.

“Well, they know I have you, and I guess they picked up on the fact that I was thinking about you the whole time; thinking about you in there. They were just saying stuff about me not being able to save you because of my mistakes, and about you having to plan my funeral because I got reckless on the job and I got myself killed.” he continues after a moment. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits for you to reply, and your eyes soften at his admission. 

You shake your head, bringing his head down to rest your foreheads against each other with your hand on the back of his neck. You keep him there for a moment in silence, trying to gather your thoughts before you reply.

“My love, your heart is what will make you a good firefighter. You care so much about people. And I have no doubt that you’d be able to save me if you had to, because you’re smart, and capable, and you love so deeply. And I’m not gonna lie, the thought of you getting hurt on the job has crossed my mind, but I know that you’re gonna fight to come home everyday, aren’t you?” He nods immediately, brows furrowing.

“Of course, I will. You know I will.” he replies, and you smile.

“Then I’m not too worried. Worry about actually finishing your training first, and then we’ll talk about you dying on the job, okay? Because I guarantee that when you start at an actual station, you’ll trust your team a lot more than the recruits. You can’t even imagine all the stories my dad has told me about the people he had to train with.” you tell him with a small laugh. You can still see a bit of hesitancy in his eyes as he tells you that you’re right, so you lead him to the couch and sit him down.

“I know exactly what you need.” you tell him when he sits down, then turn and grab your phone off the kitchen counter.

A small, real smile finally makes its way to his face when he sees you scrolling through your phone, knowing exactly what you’re about to do. When one of you has a bad day, the other always does something to make the other smile. He doesn’t even remember when or how this tradition started, but he does know that it always makes him smile regardless of how many times you do it.

His smile widens when he hears the beginning to Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love from the speaker connected to the tv, and you turn from your spot in the kitchen to face him.

You walk over to him as the beat starts, moving your shoulders in time with each step and fighting back a smile, and when the singing starts, you grab the tv remote off the coffee table and begin to lip sync into it.

He watches as you dance to the music with a wide smile, watching the way you move your hips in time with the music, and he can already feel himself start to feel better. He chuckles when you grab one of his hands and duck down to spin under his arm, and when you turn back to face him, you drop his hand and back up a few feet.

When the chorus starts, you continue lip syncing as you raise your hand in a “come here” motion, rolling your body in time with the beat. He gets up off the couch, keeping his eyes locked with yours, then grabs your hips, pulling you against him. 

You both sway to the music with smiles on your face. You can tell that he feels better, and you’re extremely grateful. You know how stressful the job can be, and you only hope you can help him through it as much as you can. 

The song finally ends, and he lifts you up with his hands going to the backs of your thighs, and you giggle as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You always know what to do, princess.” he says with a grin, and all you can do is lean down to press your lips to his. 

“I know what else I can do to help you feel better.” you murmur against his lips. You feel his grip tightening on the back of your thighs, and he groans, pulling back from your lips to look at you with blown pupils.

“I’m keeping you in bed until tomorrow morning.” he teases, then sets you back down onto the ground. He then grabs your waist and turns you towards the stairs, then pushes you forward gently, but not before giving your ass a firm smack. You yelp at the contact, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Go upstairs, princess. I’ll be right up.” 

“What are you doing?” you ask, but obey and walk towards the stairs.

“I’m ordering takeout, gonna see what I can do before it gets here.” he teases, and you laugh softly, rolling your eyes.

His eyes dart between your ass as you walk up the stairs, and his phone, and when he’s finally placed the order, he races up the stairs two at a time. 

He grins when he sees that you’re already naked, sprawled out on the bed and sitting up on your elbows waiting for him. He groans as he takes off his shirt, then unzips his pants, and then he’s on you in an instant, lips attaching to your neck.

“How could I do this without you, princess?” he whispers against your neck, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath hits your neck.

“You’d be lost without me.” you tease as you tilt your head back. You feel him grinding against you as he chuckles, and you lower your chin to meet his gaze when he leans back to look at you.

“Damn right, I would.”

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[empressofthewind]

Rating Reactions to Seeing Shinigami for the First Time

A comprehensive (and probably biased) list :-)

~~~

Chapter 1 - Light

Falls on the floor and screams, then recomposes himself and very unconvincingly pretends he expected this. This is the first we get to see of Light's Perfectly Normal And Chill Guy persona and I have to say it's not a strong introduction to his acting skills. He gets points for entertainment value though, and also for managing to scream without attracting the attention of his family???

Rating: 8/10

~~~

Chapter 7 - Kiichiro Osoreda

This is the guy who performs the bus-jacking that forces Raye to show his ID. It's a very entertaining scene, but he's being controlled and his reaction is therefore inauthentic, which makes it difficult to give him an accurate rating.

Rating: 0/10

~~~

Chapter 26 - L

This one doesn't technically count because L is merely hearing about Shinigami rather than seeing one, but it's too good not to include. He silently falls off his chair while actively solving a murder case in which the main cause of death has been heart attacks. Naturally the entire task force panics and thinks he's dying, and he does nothing to assuage these concerns. Absolutely iconic of him. Also makes for brilliant foreshadowing.

Rating: 10/10

~~~

Chapter 46 - Misa

We don't get to see Misa's very first reaction to meeting Rem, but we DO see their reunion during the Yotsuba arc, and she is horrified. She screams just like Light and L did, and her fear persists as long as Rem's hand is covering her mouth. She reacts pretty much how I would expect the average person to.

Rating: 5/10

~~~

Chapter 53 - Soichiro

Another pretty standard reaction. Falls backwards, screams and immediately reaches for his gun. Nothing remarkable about it.

Rating: 3/10

~~~

Chapter 53 - Aizawa

Exact same reaction as Soichiro, but he gets extra points because this panel of them both panting on the floor is utterly delightful. The eyes?? The pose???? They look like a pair of petrified crabs. I'm obsessed.

Rating: 8/10

~~~

Chapter 53 - L (again)

L has heard that Shinigami exist and already knows that there's a "monster" attached to the notebook, so he's not surprised at all by the time he actually sees Rem. Instead, he starts having such an intense and paralysing epiphany that he doesn't even notice Light taking the Death Note from him. The least dramatic reaction so far but incredibly on-brand for him in every way.

Rating: 6/10

~~~

Chapter 70 - Rod Ross

Freaks out once he actually sees Sidoh, but he's incredibly relaxed about the notebook flying beforehand. His line "I wouldn't be surprised if it's alive" is hilariously ironic given that the notebook does turn out to have a living component to it, and this does, in fact, surprise him.

Rating: 7/10

~~~

Chapter 70 - Kal Snydar

One of my favourite reactions purely for the implication that Rod might have recruited an 8-foot-tall man in a monster costume. Perfectly reasonable assumption to make.

Rating: 9/10

~~~

Chapter 70 - Mello

Much like L, everyone around him is panicking, but he stays impressively nonchalant. Immediately starts plotting ways to manipulate the demon creature for his own gain. This is essentially L's reaction if he was 90% more unhinged.

Rating: 10/10

~~~

Chapter 101 - Near

Only character to look genuinely happy about seeing the Shinigami which is an instant 10 for me. He gets an extra point for having the most precious smile ever <3

Rating: 11/10

[pandapetals]

Watch It, Bub

Logan whips out his claws to scare off some creepy guy for you.

logan howlett x fem!shy reader - etablished bf/gf, shy reader, introvert reader, bookish reader, logan being protective, logan whipping his claws out, cute ending, some fluff, some angst, no y/n used, no reader description, sweetheart/darlin pet names used

a/n: inspired by @romanarose post about logan whipping out his claws at any tiny threat towards reader.

"Take your time, sweetheart. I’ll be just over there looking handsome," Logan murmured, brushing a quick, warm kiss against your cheek before stepping away.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at his usual confidence, but you felt the familiar flutter in your chest as he headed to the other side of the store. You hadn’t expected him to come with you today—bookstores weren’t exactly his thing—but here he was, giving you the space to browse in peace, even offering to pay for whatever books you wanted. He knew how much this place meant to you.

With a small smile lingering on your face, you turned down the fiction aisle, your eyes drifting over the rows of books. The shelves were packed, full of spines in every color, each one a doorway into a new world. You felt at home here, surrounded by the comforting smell of paper and dust, your fingers grazing the covers as you searched for the title you came for.

But as you rounded a corner, your easy calm shifted. A man was standing a little way down the aisle, leaning against a shelf with a book open in his hands. His posture was casual, but there was something in the way he glanced up at you—quick, assessing—that made the back of your neck prickle. His gaze lingered a second too long, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You considered turning around, ducking into another section, but a voice in your head stopped you. Would he think that was rude? Why should you care what he thought? But still, your heart beat a little faster, and you could feel the edges of your shyness creeping in, making your movements a bit more stiff.

Taking a quiet breath, you forced yourself to keep going. You focused on the titles, searching for that book you’d been wanting. Your fingers tightened around the spine of a novel as you found it, pulling it from the shelf with a small, victorious smile. But before you could fully turn away, you heard him clear his throat.

“Hey," he said, his tone almost too casual. "So…you into that author?”

The question caught you off guard. You glanced up, your brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

He tilted his head, closing the book in his hands. "Just wondering if you’re a fan. I’ve read a lot of their stuff. Thought maybe we could compare notes.”

His smile was meant to be friendly, but there was something too forward about it, too expectant. You felt your cheeks flush, the words caught somewhere in your throat. You hadn’t prepared yourself for small talk—especially not with a stranger who seemed to have taken a bit too much interest in you.

The man’s question hung in the air, and you felt a weight in his gaze, waiting, pressing as if he had a right to your attention. Your brain scrambled for something to say, but all you could manage was, “Yeah—I mean, I guess.”

Your cheeks felt warm, an awkward flush creeping up as you struggled to fill the silence. You wished, just for once, you could handle moments like this smoothly—could just have a regular conversation without your words tangling on the way out. But another part of you bristled, reminding you that you didn’t owe this stranger anything. You glanced down at the book in your hands, hoping he’d take the hint and move on.

Instead, he stepped closer, a too-friendly grin stretching across his face. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping as if to make the conversation more intimate, “I’m always happy to give recommendations if you’re looking for something… different.” He reached out and touched your arm, a casual gesture that lingered a beat too long, his fingers warm against your sleeve.

A chill shot up your spine. You stiffened, pulling your arm back instinctively, but the man didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t care. He leaned in, that smile of his edging from friendly to something more expectant, his gaze fixed on you as if he were waiting for permission to keep going.

Your heart sped up, the edges of your discomfort sharpening. You swallowed, feeling the prickling heat of anxiety clawing its way up your throat. You opened your mouth, trying to summon a polite excuse to leave, but the words died as a shadow fell over you both.

Logan had appeared beside you, silent as a storm gathering on the horizon. His hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you close to him. He didn’t look at you—his focus was locked entirely on the stranger, his eyes dark and unblinking.

“Watch it, bub?” Logan’s voice was low and even, each word laced with a quiet, unmistakable threat. “She’s not interested.”

The stranger’s grin faltered, his fingers twitching as he quickly withdrew his hand from where he’d touched your arm. He looked between you and Logan, his smile turning nervous as he took in the hard line of Logan’s jaw, the clenched fists. Logan’s stance seemed to expand, filling the aisle. A faint, metallic snikt cut through the silence as Logan’s claws slid out just far enough to make his intentions crystal clear.

“I—uh,” the guy stammered, his eyes wide. “Didn’t mean any harm, man. Just… being friendly.”

“Then back off.” Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice steady as steel. “Find someone else to be friendly with.”

The stranger held up his hands in a quick, defensive gesture, the color draining from his face. “Yeah, yeah. No problem,” he muttered, taking a step back. He turned and practically tripped over his own feet as he made his way down the aisle, disappearing around the corner without looking back.

As soon as he was gone, Logan’s posture softened. His claws retracted with a soft click, and he turned to you, his expression shifting from deadly to concerned. He brushed a gentle thumb over your shoulder where the stranger had touched you, his eyes scanning your face.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice a low rumble of reassurance.

You felt a small, shaky smile tug at your lips as the tension slowly ebbed from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath, but laced with quiet relief.

Logan’s eyes softened, his mouth curving into that rare, gentle smile he saved just for you. He kept his hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing slow, reassuring circles over your skin. “Can’t have anyone bothering my girl,” he said.

A soft laugh escaped you, and a gentle warmth bloomed in your chest, melting away the last of your unease. “I guess it was my fault…” you started, feeling a bit sheepish. “Maybe I should have just walked away.”

Logan’s face darkened, and he shook his head firmly. “No, sweetheart. Don’t go blaming yourself.” His eyes flicked toward the empty aisle where the stranger had disappeared, his jaw tightening as if the man were still standing there. “He put his hands on you…” His voice dipped into a dangerous growl, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “I should’ve cut off his damn arm.”

The words were half-joking, but his eyes flashed with something deadly serious. You could feel his protective fury simmering just below the surface, a fierce heat held in check only by his respect for you. It was a reminder of exactly who he was—the dangerous edge he kept hidden, for your sake.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Well, good thing you didn’t… cut off his arm,” you said, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his usual hardness melting into something warmer that seemed to wrap around you like a shield. Slowly, his hand traced down your arm, his fingers leaving a gentle warmth that lingered on your skin long after they passed.

“You’ll never have to find out, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady promise.

His words hung between you, carrying a weight that was both fierce and comforting as if he was making a vow he intended to keep with every fiber of his being. You felt a soft warmth bloom in your chest, and suddenly the world seemed a little smaller and safer, with him beside you.

You met his eyes, feeling your own shyness creeping in, but unable to look away. “Thank you, Logan,” you whispered, feeling the words fall short of what you really meant.

He just gave a small, knowing smile, as if he understood everything you couldn’t quite say. Then, with one last brush of his thumb along your arm, he pulled back, letting you return to your books, but not before giving you a final, reassuring nod that told you he’d be right there if you needed him.

[lvnleah]

Finley’s first birthday

word count: 4.2k

the very last chapter in Finley’s last year! I do have other bits written for the williamson’s for when he’s older with siblings but I’m not sure if I’ll post them <33

find the masterlist here!

March 29th 2025 | 1 year old.

You stirred as the sun peeked through the curtains and shined on your face, instinctively turning toward Leah beside you. The peaceful rise and fall of her chest was a sight you had always cherished, but today, on her 28th birthday, it felt even more special.

March 29th had always been a favourite day for you because it was a day dedicated to the woman you loved the most. It was a whole day where you got to celebrate her and she couldn’t say a word.

Last year the day got even more special. You gave birth to your baby boy and now you get to celebrate your two favourite people in one day.

A smile tugged at your lips as you lay there for a moment, simply watching her, memorising the way her blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, the gentle curve of her lips, and the way she looked so peaceful as she slept.

It was a rare luxury to have these quiet moments in the morning before Finley woke up, and you weren’t about to waste it. You leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there for a second before moving to her temple, then to the bridge of her nose. Leah stirred slightly, her brow furrowing in that adorable way she did when she was waking up.

You continued your gentle assault of kisses, letting your lips brush over her closed eyelids, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth and finally her lips. Leah’s eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile graced her face as she blinked up at you.

“Good morning, birthday girl,” you whispered as you sat up in bed, “Happy 28th.”

“Mmm, morning,” Leah murmured, her voice laced with sleep. She reached up, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you closer, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “That’s a nice way to wake up.”

You chuckled softly as she rolled onto her back. You straddled her hips. “I thought you deserved a special wake-up today. It’s not every day my beautiful wife turns 28.”

Leah’s smile widened, her hands rubbing at your hips. “Thank you, love. And it’s not every day our little boy turns one either.”

The year had flown by, filled with so many firsts, and you couldn’t help but feel a little emotional as you thought about how much had changed since Finley had come into your lives.

“Please don’t remind me,” you sighed, tipping your head back dramatically, “I can’t believe our baby boy is one. Where has it gone?”

Leah nodded, “I know, he’s gotten so big. He’s a proper little human now!” Leah’s fingers gently traced patterns on your hips as she looked up at you, her expression softening. “How did I get so lucky?”

You leaned down to kiss her once more, this time it was a slow, lingering kiss, one that spoke of all the love and gratitude you felt for her. When you finally pulled back, you smiled down at her, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m the lucky one,” you whispered. “A perfect wife and a perfect baby boy.”

You laid down on Leah’s chest, resting your head on her shoulder as she rubbed patterns on your back underneath your (her) shirt.

The peace didn’t last long. Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in Leah’s touch, you heard soft, familiar babbles coming from the baby monitor on the nightstand. Finley’s little babbles, sleepy and full of curiosity, drifted through the speaker, signalling that your little boy was awake and ready to start his day.

Leah chuckled, “Looks like the birthday boy is up.”

“I’ll go get him,” you offered, but Leah shook her head, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed as you rolled off of her.

“No, let’s get him together,” she said with a smile. “I want to see his little face.”

You smiled and nodded as Leah slipped on a hoodie. You followed her, pulling one of Leah’s old hoodies over your head as the two of you made your way to Finley’s nursery.

As you reached the nursery door, Leah paused, turning back to you with a soft smile before quietly pushing it open. Inside, Finley was standing in his crib, gripping the bars with his tiny hands, his wide blue eyes blinking up at you both. His blonde curls were slightly crazy from sleep, and his cheeks were rosy with the warmth of the room.

The moment he saw the two of you, his face broke into a wide, toothy grin, and he let out an excited squeal, bouncing on his little legs. Leah couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filling the small room as she leaned over to scoop him up into her arms.

"Happy birthday, Bubba," she cooed, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she held him close. You stood beside her, reaching out to run your fingers gently through his curls.

“Look at you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “One-year-old today. How did we get here so fast?” you cooed as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

Finley giggled in response, his tiny hands reaching out to grab and pat Leah’s cheeks before turning his attention to you, his little fingers stretching towards your nose before grabbing it. You leaned in, pressing another kiss to his chubby cheek before taking him from Leah’s arms and cradling him against your chest.

Leah stood beside you, her arm wrapping around your waist as the three of you swayed gently, a little family moment that felt perfect in its simplicity. You breathed in the familiar scent of your baby, feeling his warmth against you as Leah pressed a kiss to your temple.

“What do you think, birthday boy?” Leah asked softly. “Ready for some cake later?”

Finley babbled in response, clearly unaware of the significance of the day but happy to be wrapped in the love of his two moms like usual. His little hands patted your chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound catching in your throat as emotion welled up inside you.

“I can’t wait to celebrate him and you,” you smiled.

“It’s going to be fun,” Leah smiled, “Shall we head back to our bed and get our presents, Bubba?” Leah cooed, tickling Finley’s stomach.

Finley let out a delighted squeal at Leah’s tickling, his tiny legs kicking excitedly as you both laughed at his joy. His laughter was infectious.

"Let's go, birthday boy," you said, bouncing him gently in your arms as the three of you made your way back to your bedroom.

As you stepped back into the bedroom, you placed Finley down in the middle of the bed, watching as he wobbled slightly on his legs before plopping down on his bum with a giggle. His wide blue eyes darted around the room with curiosity, his hands grabbing at the soft duvet as he babbled happily.

Leah climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling out two bags full of gifts for Finley. "Look what we’ve got for you, Bubba," she said in a sing-song voice, holding a small gift just out of his reach, playfully teasing him. His eyes locked onto the colourful package, his tiny hands immediately reaching for it with excitement.

You sat down beside them, watching as Leah handed the present over to him. His chubby fingers fumbled with the wrapping paper, tearing at it slowly, completely absorbed in the process. You and Leah exchanged amused glances, laughing softly as you watched him try to figure it out.

“Need some help, buddy?” Leah asked, leaning in to give him a hand. Together, you helped him pull the paper away, revealing a small, plush toy in the shape of a baby elephant. Finley's face lit up, and he immediately grabbed the toy, squealing.

"Looks like it’s a hit," you grinned, watching him chew the elephant’s ear.

Leah reached over to brush her fingers through his messy curls. "I think he likes it," she said softly, her voice full of affection.

You leaned against Leah’s shoulder, watching your son play with his new toy. Leah quickly pulled away as he tried to crawl toward the edge of the bed. She quickly scooped him up before he could make it too far.

“Not so fast, buddy!” Leah smiled, setting him back down on the bed, “You’ve still got a few more presents.”

Finley sat back down on the bed, his little legs bouncing with excitement as Leah handed him another brightly wrapped gift. His tiny hands eagerly grabbed at the paper, babbling to himself as he tore at the edges with a bit more help from Leah. You watched as she ripped the wrapping away to reveal a wooden stacking toy, the colourful rings immediately catching his attention.

“Oh, look at that, Finley,” you said, your voice filled with excitement to match his, “You can stack all the rings!”

Leah laughed softly, as you both watched Finley pick up one of the rings and attempt to fit it onto the post. His concentration was fierce, his brow furrowed in the same adorable way Leah’s did when she was focused. It made you smile even more, seeing these little traits of hers in him.

“I think we might have a little genius on our hands,” Leah teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“He gets that from me, obviously,” you joked, nudging her playfully as you rolled your eyes.

Finley managed to get one of the rings on the post, letting out a delighted squeal that made both you and Leah cheer softly for him. His grin was infectious, his wide eyes looking back and forth between the two of you as if he knew he had accomplished something big.

You handed him the next ring, and he clumsily placed it on the post, Leah clapped for him, her face lighting up with pride. “Good job, Finley! You’re doing so great.”

After opening the rest of Finley’s presents you got up off the bed and grabbed Leah’s out of the bottom of your wardrobe. You gasped as Finley’s face lit up, “Shall we give Mumma her presents, bubs?”

You placed the presents on the bed beside Leah, who had now settled comfortably with Finley on her lap. “Are you ready for your presents, love?” you asked Leah.

“Yeah, I am!” Leah replied, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

You handed Leah the bag of gifts, she picked out a box and carefully tore away the wrapping paper with Finley’s tiny hands gripping at the edges, helping to reveal the gift inside. It was a delicate silver necklace with a small heart-shaped locket—a piece you knew Leah had admired for a while.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Leah breathed, her eyes misting with tears as she opened the locket to reveal tiny photos of Finley and you inside. She looked up at you, her voice catching. “Thank you so much. It’s perfect.”

You smiled, reaching out to wipe away a tear from her cheek. “I’m glad you love it. You deserve something special.”

Leah gave you a warm smile, her heart full as she leaned in to give you a heartfelt kiss. Finley, sensing the affection, wiggled excitedly in Leah’s lap, reaching out to touch the necklace with curious fingers.

“Let’s see what else is in the bag,” Leah said, gently pulling out another gift.

The next gift was a beautiful photo book filled with pictures of the past year. Each page was a snapshot of your family’s milestones and everyday moments, capturing the joy and love that had filled the past year.

Leah’s eyes widened as she flipped through the pages, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh my god, this is amazing,” she said softly. “I can’t believe you put this together.”

“I wanted to make sure we had a special keepsake of all our memories,” you explained, leaning closer.

Leah looked at you with deep affection, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you. This means more to me than you know.”

Finley, now reaching for the book, babbled happily, clearly intrigued by the colourful photos. Leah let him explore, his little fingers touching the pages as he giggled.

You spent a little while longer in bed, opening Leah’s presents, before making your way into the kitchen. You set Finley down in his highchair and gave him one of his tether toys to keep him entertained.

Leah’s hand slipped under your shirt as you cut up some fruit for Finley, she placed soft kisses on your shoulder before following you around the kitchen as you made some pancakes.

The smell of pancakes soon filled the kitchen. As you flipped the pancakes, Leah busied herself setting the table and preparing a few toppings—fresh fruit, maple syrup, and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. Finley watched intently from his highchair, his curious eyes tracking every movement you made.

Leah glanced over at you, her expression one of contentment. “These look amazing,” she said, placing a small bowl of berries in front of Finley.

Once the pancakes were ready, you served a stack onto each plate, setting them down at the table. Leah moved Finley and his highchair over to the table while you cut his pancakes into small, manageable pieces. He eagerly grabbed at the food, his tiny fingers smeared with syrup and fruit.

As the morning continued, the three of you enjoyed your breakfast together, the conversation flowing easily between bites of food and laughter. Finley’s giggles and cheerful squeals added to the mix.

After breakfast and a bit of playtime, it was time for Finley's first nap of the day. You and Leah carefully cleaned up, making sure the kitchen was tidy before heading to the nursery. His little eyes were already drooping as you balanced him on your hip.

You sat down in the rocking chair, Leah crouched beside you as she read him a book, and before you knew it he was fast asleep in your arms.

You gently placed him into his crib, Leah adjusting his blanket as you turned his sound machine on. Finley’s soft breaths soon filled the room, you and Leah quietly stood by, watching him drift off to sleep.

With Finley asleep and the morning behind you, you and Leah had some time to yourselves. You worked together to set up the final decorations and get the cake ready for Finley and Leah’s party. Once everything was prepared and ready you and Leah started to get dressed for the day.

It wasn’t long before you were both ready for the day and Leah’s family soon arrived. You opened the door to see Amanda with her arms already outstretched, ready to greet you both. David, Leah’s dad, followed closely behind with a warm smile, and Jacob was carrying all the presents.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Amanda beamed, immediately pulling Leah into a hug. “How are you both?”

“Thanks, Mum,” Leah smiled as she took her bag of presents from her Mum. “Just can’t believe he’s one already.”

“We’re both emotional but we’re good,” you smiled. “Come in! We’ve got everything set up.”

“Where’s Finley?” Jacob asked, glancing around as he set the presents down.

“Oh well hello to you too Jacob, thank you, Jacob,” Leah sarcastically said.

You laughed at the sibling banter, shaking your head, “He’s napping, he should be awake soon though.”

Just as you finished your sentence tiny babbles came through the baby monitor, “That’s him awake, I’ll go get him.” You told Leah.

“Good timing,” Amanda grinned, “The birthday boy knows he’s going to get spoilt like usual!”

You slipped away to grab Finley from his crib, leaving Leah to chat with her parents. Moments later, you reappeared, holding a sleepy but smiling Finley, his blonde curls slightly flattened from his nap. The second he spotted Amanda and David, his face lit up in recognition, his little arms waving excitedly.

“Oh, there’s our birthday boy!” Amanda cooed, stepping forward to take him into her arms. Finley giggled, his tiny hands grabbing at her necklace. “You’ve gotten so big, haven’t you?”

David leaned over to give Finley’s hand a soft squeeze. “Look at this guy, already a year old. Time flies,” he said.

Amanda set Finley down on the floor who immediately crawled over to the stack of presents and sat on the floor beside Jacob.

Jacob chuckled as Finley grabbed at the brightly wrapped gifts, his chubby hands tugging at the paper with enthusiasm. "Looks like someone knows what's coming," Jacob said, giving Leah a wink.

Leah sat beside Jacob on the floor who was helping Finley tear into the paper as he sat on his lap. He squealed when he finally unwrapped the gift—a soft, plush lion with a crinkly mane and ears. Finley immediately grabbed it, squeezing it in his tiny hands as it made a satisfying crinkle sound, another squeal leaving his body.

“He loves it!” you laughed, watching the way Finley stared at his new toy.

With Finley happily occupied with his new toy, the rest of the presents were quickly unwrapped by Leah and Jacob. There were clothes, books, and toys, each one met with a tiny bit of interest before Finley went back to his lion. Once Finley had opened his present, Leah opened her before the chaos of the party began.

Just as you were clearing up the wrapping paper with Amanda, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Leah shouted from the hallway before opening the door.

A few moments later, Leah walked into the living room with Beth, Viv, Kim and Vic following close behind her. Each of them held a tiny bag that contained their gift.

“Happy birthday, Le.” Beth smiled as she hugged Leah, “I can’t believe Finn’s already one!”

Leah grinned as she hugged Beth back. "I know, right? It feels like just yesterday he was a newborn."

Beth, Viv, Kim, and Vic greeted you and Finley, who was now happily playing on the floor with his new lion. Each of them knelt down, taking turns cooing over the birthday boy. Finley’s eyes lit up with excitement, his tiny fingers tugging at the clothes and toys they brought.

“Happy birthday to the little man,” Kim said with a warm smile, handing over her gift. “And happy birthday to you too, Leah.”

Leah laughed as she accepted the gift bags. “Thank you! I’m feeling the love today.”

As the party began to pick up, Leah’s teammates mingled with her family, all of them taking turns playing with Finley and catching up with you both. The garden was decorated with bunting, balloons, and a special banner that read, “Happy 1st Birthday, Finley!” The sun was shining, and it felt like the perfect spring day.

Leah’s dad and Jacob were busy setting up the barbecue while Amanda helped you arrange the food on a long picnic table. As you placed down platters of snacks, Leah came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Everything looks amazing,” she whispered.

You turned to face her, a soft smile on your lips. “Only the best for my two favourite people.

Leah kissed you gently before Beth came over, holding Finley, who was now wearing a tiny party hat. "Look at this little guy!" Beth laughed, holding him up for Leah to see.

Leah grinned and reached out to take Finley, balancing him on her hip. "He’s ready for his party, aren’t you, Bubba?"

Finley babbled in response, grabbing at Leah’s hat, and making everyone laugh.

The afternoon was filled with laughter, food, and playful banter. Leah's teammates took turns kicking a ball around the garden, playfully showing off for Finley, who watched them with wide eyes. Leah’s family chatted with everyone, creating an atmosphere of warmth and joy that made the day feel extra special.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, it was time for the cake. You brought out a small cake just for Finley—a simple vanilla sponge with a tiny candle. The main cake for Leah and the guests was a larger, elaborate one, decorated in her favourite colours with a hint of Arsenal’s red and white.

Leah sat down with Finley in her lap as everyone gathered around, singing “Happy Birthday” to the two of them. Finley’s wide eyes locked onto the flickering candle as everyone finished singing, and with Leah’s help, he blew it out, earning a round of applause.

“Happy birthday, my loves,” you said softly, smiling at the sight of Leah and Finley together.

Leah kissed Finley’s cheek, then looked up at you with a loving smile. “I couldn’t ask for a better birthday.”

Finley giggled as Leah helped him stick his fingers into his cake, his chubby hands quickly covered in frosting as everyone laughed and cheered him on. The day was filled with love, and as the party continued into the evening, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the beautiful family and life you had built together.

Leah grinned, shaking her head in disbelief as she hugged Beth back. “I know, it’s crazy! Feels like just yesterday he was born and you were visiting us in the hospital while Y/N was in labour.”

Kim stepped forward next, giving Leah a gentle hug and handing her a small gift bag. “Happy birthday! Can’t wait to spoil the little man today too.”

“Thanks, Kimmy,” Leah smiled, taking the gift and placing it on the side table with the others.

Viv and Vic joined in the hugs, each of them cooing over Finley, who was still thoroughly engrossed in his new lion toy. Viv leaned down, gently ruffling his blonde curls, “Happy birthday, little man. Look at you, so big now!”

“He’s definitely growing up fast,” you chimed in, walking over to join them. “We barely blinked, and here we are, celebrating his first birthday.”

Leah’s other teammates—Steph, Lia, Lotte, Kyra, Katie, and Caitlin—arrived shortly after, all bringing smiles, laughter, and gifts with them. Each of them greeted Leah with a hug and fussed over Finley. It wasn’t long before the living room was buzzing with energy, Leah’s cousins Holly and Jordan arrived with Henry and Leah’s grandma, Berny.

Leah wrapped her arms around you from behind as you set up the sandwiches with Amanda, “This is perfect, I’m so proud of you for setting this all up.”

You turned your head to place a kiss on her cheek, “Anything for my favourite people.”

As the party moved into the garden, where the sun was shining brightly, the decorations you and Leah had set up earlier shimmered in the light. A large banner that read “Happy Birthday, Leah and Finley!" hung proudly across the patio, with balloons, and a beautifully decorated cake sitting on the table.

“Sorry I’m late, blame London traffic.” Keira said as she entered the garden, “But I come bearing gifts!”

Leah laughed, “You’re always late, but I’ll forgive you since you brought presents.”

Keira shook her head as she rolled her eyes playfully, walking over to set the gifts down on the table. “Happy birthday to the best boy,” she cooed, tickling Finley’s stomach who was now resting on Amanda’s hip. “And happy birthday to my best mate too, I guess.”

With everyone settled in the garden, drinks were poured, snacks were passed around, and the laughter flowed freely. As the day rolled on, the time for cake finally arrived.

“Alright time for the cake, gather round!” Leah announced to everyone as you set Finley down in his highchair.

Once everyone was gathered around Finley and Leah, Amanda came out carrying a cake with the candles lit. Finley’s eyes widened at the sight of the flickering candle, his hands reaching out toward it which Leah quickly pulled back.

Happy Birthday rang out around the garden, everyone smiling as Finley looked around in confusion. He looked at you and Leah with a confused look before looking back at the cake.

“Blow the candles out, Finn!” You encouraged him as everyone finished singing.

Leah gently blew the candles out, smiling as she clapped her hands. “Happy birthday, Bubba,” Leah whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the room erupted into applause. “No one else I’d rather share the day with”

You cut Finley a small piece of cake, watching as his tiny fingers grabbed at it hesitantly before shoving it into his mouth. The room was filled with laughter as he smeared frosting across his face, clearly enjoying his first taste of birthday cake.

As the evening drew to a close, the guests slowly started to leave, offering their goodbyes and final birthday wishes to Leah and Finley. The house became quiet once more, and you and Leah, both tired but happy, tucked Finley into bed. You stood by the crib, watching as his little chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath, your heart full.

Back in the bedroom, Leah pulled you into a hug, holding you close. "Thank you for today," she whispered. "It was perfect."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "It's all for you, birthday girl. I love you."

"I love you more," Leah murmured against your lips, her hands resting on your hips. “More than you’ll ever know, pretty girl.”

liked by bethmead_ and others

leahwilliamsonn bubba’s first birthday, no one else I’d rather share my birthday with x

comments turned off…

[coffeeshades]

—true blue ⭑ part ii

summary: two strangers meet in a city of millions, only to discover they've been searching for each other all along.

pairing: pedro pascal x f!reader.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: age gap, angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, loneliness, nostalgia. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: happy reading <3

Several weeks had passed since Pedro’s last letter, and your heart had fallen into a state of quiet, private anguish. At first, you waved it off—surely, he was busy; perhaps work had claimed his attention. It was only reasonable, you told yourself. Your own days were heavy with work; your nights were weighed down by the kinds of dreams that stretch between waking and sleep.

You expected his silence would soon be broken.

But as each day drew to a close without word from him, your soul grew restless, your mind endlessly rehearsing the contents of your last letter. Did you overstep some invisible boundary? Did he, perhaps, see the words on the page and find them lacking?

It was a mad habit, replaying the messages, re-reading them through imagined eyes. Had you given yourself away too soon, foolishly assuming some intimacy that perhaps had never been there?

Resigned, you finally abandoned any hope of hearing from him again.

One bright Saturday in late autumn, you sought solace in Hyde Park. The air was brisk, threading itself with the scent of dying leaves. In one hand, you clutched a warm pumpkin flavored coffee, and in the other, the last book Pedro had given you, its spine softened by countless touches, as though he’d read it a hundred times before sending it on to you. The vibrant red of your cardigan caught the eyes of passersby, a bright, defiant spot against the muted colors of the late autumn landscape.

As you walked, you saw the shapes of couples in the distance, silhouettes tangled together as they strolled or lingered under trees. You were reminded of those precious, everyday moments—of your friend's comforting calls, your patients’ murmured thanks at the end of long days, the warmth of those early letters exchanged with Pedro. Each of these small flashes of light is a reminder that life held joy even amid decay.

Yet even those small joys paled in comparison to what Pedro had come to represent to you. He was more than just a light; he had become the sun, his warmth reaching some part of you long-buried, awakening hope you’d thought lost forever. You clung to that hope, fragile as it was, in your steps.

And then, as if conjured by some unseen will, he appeared.

You saw him, standing near a tree talking on his phone, dressed much the same as the first time you’d met, only this time his glasses were different. Your heart raced, a sudden jolt of fear gripping you. You shouldn’t be scared—you’d been writing to him for weeks. You’d spilled your guts on paper, sharing things with him you hadn’t told anyone else. Talking to him shouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

You kept walking, hoping to avoid him, but then you heard it. Your name—deliciously spoken in his voice, rich and deep. You stopped dead in your tracks, heart hammering in your chest.

Your footsteps slowed, your pulse quickening as you turned. There he was, hands tucked into his pockets, his smile just as soft, as if he’d known all along that you’d appear there on that same path.

“I thought that was you,” he said, taking a few steps toward you.

It was all you could do to muster a reply, your voice an unsteady whisper against the gusts of wind. “You’ve only seen me once,” you stammered, “and you remembered me?”

A laugh, gentle and reassuring, rumbled from him as he replied, “You’re hard to forget.”

“Oh.”

It was the only word you could manage, your brain still trying to process the fact that he was here, in front of you.

He glanced down at the book in your hand. “How’s it going?” he asked, nodding towards it.

“I’m halfway through already. It’s fast-paced,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual, even though your pulse was racing.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled again. “You going somewhere?”

You glanced around, desperate to avoid his intense gaze. His brown eyes were impossibly warm, pulling you in. “Not really,” you said. “Just walking.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

From there, conversation flowed, interrupted only by the brisk autumn breeze, as if you hadn’t already shared your deepest thoughts in letters. He asked about your work, and when you told him you worked in healthcare, he teased, “Could you be a little more specific?”

You laughed. “I’m a doctor, actually.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “No way. That’s impressive. Beauty and brains.”

You blushed. Did he just—did he compliment you?

“It’s no big deal. I applied for a residency here a while ago, and now… here I am.”

“Where’d you go to med school?” he asked.

“New York,” you said, smiling softly. “Lived there my whole life.”

“Why not stay there?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It sounds silly, but I always dreamed of escaping to somewhere new. Somewhere no one knew me.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

You laughed, glancing down at the ground. “Pretty lonely.”

He frowned. “Lonely?”

“Not much different from my life before,” you added quickly, feeling too exposed. You turned the conversation back to him. “What about you?”

“Uh, well, I’m…an actor,” he said with a shrug. “That's why I'm in London, filming a movie. Been here for a few months now.”

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the moment stretching out between you. You had to say it. It had been gnawing at you since that first encounter—this unspoken truth, hovering between the lines of every letter you’d exchanged.

“I... I know who you are, by the way,” you blurted out, the words rushing out faster than you intended.

Pedro raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, crooked smile. “Oh?”

You nodded, suddenly shy, feeling your face grow warm. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t sure at first. You look different, a little. But then when you signed the first letter with your name, I was like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s him.’ And then I didn’t want to ruin it or make things weird, so I didn’t say anything, but maybe I should’ve? I don’t know, I—”

You rambled on, your voice a frantic mess as the words stumbled over themselves. Pedro watched you, his eyes crinkling in amusement, letting you spiral out without interrupting. His quiet, steady presence only made you more flustered, the way he seemed so completely at ease, while you felt like you were falling over your own sentences like an idiot.

“Hey,” he said gently, cutting into your monologue. “Slow down. It’s okay.”

“Is it?” You sighed, feeling the ridiculousness of your own nervous energy. “I just don’t want you to think I’m only talking to you because of… you know. Who you are.”

He seemed unsurprised, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have kept this up if I thought it was just about… well, who I am,” he said, his tone softening. “Honestly, I was grateful for a reason to just… be myself.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relieved. “Thank you. It’s just… I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Pedro said, smiling again, but softer this time. “Actually, thank you for coming clean about it. If it makes you feel better, I knew you knew. I could tell.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”

“No, but I like that about you,” he said, eyes glinting with warmth. “You’re refreshingly honest, even when you’re rambling.”

Your nerves melted just a little at his words, and everything felt easy again, just like in the letters.

The walk turned into an invitation to lunch, and soon enough, you found yourselves tucked into a cozy corner table at a little restaurant nearby. The place was warm, with soft lighting and wooden beams overhead, the air carrying the scent of fresh bread and something savory cooking in the back. It was intimate, inviting.

Pedro picked up the menu, scanning it briefly before glancing at you with a playful grin. “So, what’s your go-to order? Something pumpkin-flavored, I’m guessing?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Ha ha. Only the coffee. But sure, I’ll embrace the autumn stereotype.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I had a pumpkin spice latte the other day—didn’t hate it.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I knew you were the type. All that rugged, cool guy persona? A front for your love of seasonal beverages.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

Lunch came, and so did the conversation between bites of food and sips of wine.

At one point, Pedro started telling a story about his first audition, a disaster that involved a broken chair and spilled coffee, and you nearly choked on your drink from laughing so hard.

“And then,” he said, shaking his head, “the casting director just looked at me, deadpan, and said, ‘Well, that was memorable.’”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, wiping your eyes. “I would have died.”

“I nearly did,” he said, grinning. “But hey, I got the part. Pity, probably.”

“Or charm,” you said, raising your glass. “Here’s to charming your way through life.”

He clinked his glass with yours, the sound soft, like the connection between you.

A nameless, delicate thing.

Laughter faded, and the conversation settled into a more vulnerable rhythm. The weight of what you had said in your letters hung between you, an acknowledgment that this was more than just books and thoughts shared on paper. It had become a bridge—fragile, intimate, but undeniably real.

“I know what that’s like,” you said, breaking the silence, your voice softer now. You swirled the last of your wine in the glass, staring at it like the answer might rise up in the reflection. “To try to mold yourself to fit into someone’s life. To make yourself pliable, digestible... because you love them. Because you want them to love you back. But I realized… that’s useless. You can change everything about yourself and still not be enough. So why betray yourself?”

Pedro’s, warm and deep eyes seemed to catch the weight of your words and hold them for a moment before he spoke. “That’s... yeah, I get that. More than I care to admit.”

You bit your lip, immediately feeling exposed. “I’m sorry,” you added quickly, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t mean to get all existential on you.”

He shook his head, his expression soft. “No, don’t apologize. It’s real. Honestly, it’s refreshing to talk about this stuff. It feels like people avoid these conversations, you know? Too much noise, not enough... depth.”

You nodded.

“And please don’t think I’m, like, dreadfully sad,” you added with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, yes, I am, but at the back of it, I promise there’s faith. There’s hope. And love. Lots of love.”

Pedro’s smile widened, just enough to deepen the creases at the corners of his eyes. "Same. I could tell from your letters."

"I don't know, I've always wanted this thing that's not quite love but something more."

“What is that?” he asked quietly, his voice dipping in a way that made the question feel more intimate, as if he already knew part of the answer.

You hesitated; the answer slipped out anyway. “To be understood.”

He didn’t speak right away, just took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. His face was a map of tiny details you had already memorized in your letters—his dark hair streaked with silver, the subtle patches of white in his beard, more prominent under the soft light of the restaurant. His eyes crinkled at the corners, even when he wasn’t smiling, like someone who’d spent a lifetime both laughing and crying deeply. He carried it all with him—his history written in the lines on his face, in the way his hands moved slowly, thoughtfully.

“You know,” he began, setting his glass down, his voice low but steady, “there’s something from one of your letters that’s been stuck with me. When you wrote: ‘All I’ve ever known of love is how to live without it. I just can’t seem to find it.”

Your breath caught in your chest. You remembered writing those words late one night, fingers trembling as your pen hit the paper, thinking it might be too much to share. But now, hearing it come back to you in his voice, you realized it had struck him, too. Maybe he had been holding onto it, turning it over in his mind, just as you had.

“That…” he trailed off, shaking his head, his gaze falling to the table for a moment as if searching for the right words. “That hit me. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

You swallowed.

Pedro’s eyes met yours again, and this time, there was a quiet intensity behind them. “I do feel like that too,” he said simply. “I’ve felt that way for a long time.”

There was a pause. Not the awkward kind, but the heavy kind—the kind where things shift, where you realize the other person is carrying the same scars you’ve spent a lifetime hiding.

“I’ve always been good at feeling things deeply,” he continued, his voice growing quieter, more reflective. “Too deeply, maybe. And with love… it’s like this paradox, you know? You want to be loved for who you are, but you end up bending yourself into knots, just trying to be enough for someone else. And when it doesn’t work, you wonder what you did wrong. Why you weren’t enough.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand through his dark hair, the streaks of white catching in the light. “I’ve been in relationships where I thought, ‘This is it, this is love,’ but it wasn’t. I was just... fitting myself into someone else’s idea of love. And I don’t think I’ve ever let someone really see me. Not like this.”

You sat in silence for a moment, his words hanging in the air between you. There was something profoundly human about his confession. He wasn’t just a famous face or a larger-than-life presence. He was a person, flawed and searching, just like you.

“I think that’s what scares me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That maybe I’ve never been seen either. Not really.”

Pedro looked at you then, and there was something in his eyes that made your heart thud harder in your chest—a softness, a recognition, like he understood you in ways you hadn’t even begun to understand yourself.

“I see you,” he said quietly, his voice steady, no trace of hesitation.

You blinked, feeling your throat tighten, not trusting yourself to speak. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The world outside the restaurant—Hyde Park with its autumn chill, the bustling streets of London—faded away. It was just the two of you sitting at that small table, the space between you shrinking.

Pedro leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “And what if,” he said, his voice low, “what if love isn’t something you have to find? What if it’s already here? In these moments, in the quiet spaces between words?”

Your heart fluttered, the weight of his gaze anchoring you to the moment. He wasn’t just talking about love as an abstract concept. He was talking about this—the connection between you, the letters, the words that had brought you both to this place.

And suddenly, you realized that you weren’t just yearning for love. You were already in it, knee-deep, feeling everything so deeply you hadn’t even noticed.

You smiled, a soft, tentative thing. “Maybe we’re both learning what love looks like.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t alone in your search.

You were here, in the mess of it. And that was enough.

a/n: don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and remember my ask is always open, would love to hear your thoughts!

next part should be up soon!!

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Spoiled 💋

He can sub this time. As a treat.

Smut - woozi x gn!reader

Happy Birth Month Woozi! I would love to spoil you one day 😘(I may have gotten carried away with this Uno Reverse.)

AO3 link

Word Count: 3k

CW: sub!jihoon, bottom!jihoon, oral (m!rec.), handjob (m!rec.), cockring, vibrator, dildo, fingering (m!rec.), analingus (m!rec.), assplay (m!rec.)

♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 💋♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

There is nothing more delicious than the sight of your boyfriend panting and flushed with one arm slung over his eyes and the other gripping the sheets as you take your time sucking hard on every single inch of his cock. Jihoon is sprawled out naked beneath you, his clear skin hot to the touch and slick with a thin sheen of sweat. The muscles in his stomach contract as he has no choice but to hold on to his release. A cockring sits snug at the base of his dick, and your fingers find it amusing to rub it slowly as your tongue circles his tip.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Jihoon moans out, squeezing his eyes shut behind his arm. He can’t even chance a look at you, fearing he’ll come early for the first time tonight.

You move your hand to stroke his length languidly, taking your mouth off of him to reply, “This is just the beginning, baby Hoonie.” Your voice is too sweet. Too innocent for the filthy things your tongue has been doing to Jihoon for the last twenty minutes. And for the things you're planning to do until he’s begging, pleading, and crying to come. You have your essential tools laid out beside you, ready for use. The cockring was a part of the small group, but it has already been employed. Next there’s warming lube, a small bullet vibrator, and a long dildo each waiting for its turn in tonight’s session. 

Spoiling Jihoon with some solo pleasure makes your own heart race with anticipation. You love seeing him drop his dom persona and take a break once in a while, embracing that switchy side of himself. He starts talking cutely, acting cutely, and listening to every command you issue him. His whole body flushes a blushy pink color, and he looks softer than ever. All you wanna do is sully that sweet innocence, bring him to the sexy, dark side with you. You wonder if he gets the same feeling looking at you when you are this needy and adorable.

You reach for the bullet vibrator with the hand that’s not traveling up and down his shaft. Carefully, you rub the object on his tip, massaging the slit all without turning it on. The action elicits a desperate moan from Jihoon that lilts through the air like sweet music.

“Aww,” you coo, “it’s not even on yet, love.”

He moves to grip the sheets hard with both hands, bracing for the moment you hit the little button that brings the simple object to life. He’s breathing heavily, eyes still screwed shut and bottom lip stuck between his teeth. You chuckle at the sight of him and remove the still vibrator from his tip to give it a reassuring kiss. Your lips trail up his taut stomach and land for a visit to his adorable nipples. As you prod at one with your tongue, you move the toy back to rubbing his tip.

“Please,” he breathes out in a whisper.

“Please what?” you pry, mouthing the words on the erect nub.

“Please, just, turn it on. Get it over with.” It’s a desperate plea. 

You can’t help but smile and move your lips up to rest on his jaw. “Now, baby Hoonie, don’t be impatient. If you want it to be over, we can stop.” Your tone is teasing, knowing the reaction the simple threat might provoke.

Jihoon finally snaps his eyes open in shock and panic. You raise your head to meet his eyes. “No, please, don’t stop! I’m sorry! I’ll be patient!” 

You lean in to kiss the corner of his lips gently. “That's a good boy.” The words are punctuated with the swift action of turning on the vibrator as it presses hard into the head of his cock. Jihoon’s eyes roll back into head as a gorgeous, full-bodied moan rips through his chest and pours from his lips.

You move back down to your position between his legs and place a hand behind one of his knees to bend it until you have access to all of him. You sink down to place your lips on his balls, kissing and mouthing at them. The feeling of hot, wet lips and relentless vibration are almost too much for Jihoon. His breathy sounds become a high-pitch staccato following his heavy breathing. His fingers curl into the sheets hard making his knuckles go white. He’s using all his strength to avoid coming and the resistance is almost as torturous as the action itself. His resolve crumbles when your adventurous tongue wanders further south, lapping at his taint and then finally circling his tight asshole. 

You move the vibrator down his length until it’s vibrating against the cockring. “Please,” he breathes out, “please, I want to come.”

You bite at his thigh then say, “So early? You know I’m not done yet. You think you can come again tonight?”

“Yes! Yes, just please, take it off. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll… I’ll…” He knows that right now, he doesn’t have the power to do much but lay there and take what you give him. He sounds desperate, and he looks adorably pathetic.

Looking into his big teary eyes, you reply sympathetically, “So spoiled.” You sigh, “I can’t say no to that face.” You give him a sly pout and remove the cockring from him with the same hand holding the vibrator. Grasping both him and the small machine in your hand, you stroke him to help reach his climax. He comes in long spurts, glossy ribbons falling onto his stomach. Discarding the ring and vibrator, you lift your head to see the absolute mess you helped make of your boyfriend. Fingers run through the streaks on his stomach and find their way to his mouth. He sucks at them eagerly, grabbing onto your hand and looking into your eyes. You replace your hand with your mouth and immediately swipe your tongue around, tasting Jihoon on his own lips. 

“Now,” you start as you separate, “what do you want next, baby Hoonie?”

The eyes that once bore into yours are now flighty. They can’t focus on one thing, and they definitely can’t meet your face. “Well, umm…” he hesitates.

“How am I supposed to spoil you if I don’t know what you want?” You grab him lightly by the chin and direct him to face you. “Look at me, and tell me.”

He blinks with big, innocent eyes. “Can you… put that…” he directs his eyes to the long dildo then back at you, “inside? Please?” 

He looks delectable. Just too cute. You peck him on the lips then answer, “Of course, baby Hoonie. Anything for you.”

You sink back down in between his legs and place both of them up to a position bent at the knees. His hand sneaks to reach for his flaccid cock, wanting to bring it back to life, but you grab his wrist hard and pin it against the sheets.

You look up at him from between his legs, “No touching. That doesn’t belong to you right now. Understand?” He nods in response which is not good enough for you. You lay a swift smack to the side of his thigh. “Use words. Now, do you understand?” you say firmer than before.

“Yes, I understand.”

 “Good boy.” You continue your ministrations, using both of your thumbs to spread him open. You begin kissing and tracing his rim with your tongue like before, only this time, you start prodding to open it, slipping inside. You pump your tongue in and out, tasting his fresh hole. He prepared for tonight and is now reaping the great reward. He’s sensitive here, though he only dares ask for stimulation when he’s feeling subby like this. 

You're a great multitasker. While maintaining a steady pace with your mouth and tongue, your hand finds the bottle of the special warming lube you got for this exact occasion. Without even looking, you open the cap and spread the substance over your fingers, enjoying the way Jihoon’s body reacts to you and to the anticipation. He jolts and his cock twitches when you bring a finger to join your tongue inside. 

A warmth spreads through Jihoon that starts as a nagging feeling. The smooth sensation gliding into him from your finger paired with the warming lube is undeniably erotic. Even just one finger with the substance brings a heat to Jihoon that almost makes him sweat. His once spent and limp dick now starts to harden again, untouched. You remove your tongue and begin pumping the one finger torturously slowly. You feel the heat on your hands of the gentle warmth the lube brings. Your hips begin rutting against the bed where you are poised. You won’t be able to go long without some attention of your very own. 

“Hold on for me, baby Hoonie,” you say as a last-minute warning before completely removing his stimulation. 

“No…” he whines, “Please, I want more.” His eyebrows knit together, screwing his face into a frustrated scowl that can’t even try to be intimidating. He’s too flushed, too needy, and too cute to look angry.

You try to take him seriously, but end up chuckling lightly at the mini tantrum. “I thought you said you’d be a good boy. Is this how good boys act?” 

He squirms in protest then relents. “No,” he pouts.

“Then you can wait for me.” You move deftly, reaching for the discarded bullet vibrator. As much as you enjoy watching your boyfriend get all flustered and a little bratty, you know that the show must go on. You’re dying just about as much as he is waiting for the eventual sweet climax of the evening. With the toy in hand, you put it in your own underwear, right against your own sex and turn it on a low setting, relishing in the pleasurable vibrations. 

Jihoon watches you breathe heavily and rock your hips against the vibrations. You smile at his wide-eyed stare. You bend down again to kiss him, still enjoying the feeling of the vibrator in your underwear. Trailing back down his body with your mouth, you can’t help but feel giddy. The amount of power you have over him is almost addicting and you wish it could last forever. Of course, you like to be the submissive one, but there’s something so sweet about Jihoon when he wants to do it. It’s like it releases an incredible amount of tension in him.

You sink back down near his half-hard dick and your breath ghosts against it. Jihoon begins to sweat in anticipation. You chuckle lightly, sending more soft bursts of air against his cock. “Are you ready, baby Hoonie? You were so patient for me.”

“Y…yes, I’m ready,” he replies. His heartbeat quickens as your tongue flicks out and licks his pink tip. You see it coming back to a full erection. Your fingers find his hole again and begin circling. This time, two fingers plunge inside at once, and you take the tip into your mouth and suck hard, which is the final push Jihoon needed to come all the way back. The sounds emanating from him are loud enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if you get a noise complaint later. You don’t hesitate in the pace of pumping your slick fingers in his blushy hole. 

“Your noises are so pretty, baby Hoonie,” you say as you sink from the tip of his cock down to his balls. You don’t want him to come again yet, so you use your free hand to grip him at the base of his dick. Jihoon is more than stimulated with the scorch he’s feeling from your electric touch on his dick, your heated and relentless fingers in his hole, and your warm and wet mouth now sucking at his balls. His body reaches a fever pitch as he feels a third finger move inside of him and spread to stretch him wide. The tip of his cock leaks precum that drips down his length. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s making choked noises, unable to vocalize his pleasure anymore. He’s becoming more and more worn out, and you realize that it’s time to finish up.

You halt your movements but keep your fingers inside of him. You lift yourself into a kneeling position and use your free hand to caress your lover’s red cheeks. Jihoon looks considerably more fucked out than he was before, barely holding on by a thread. He’s barely registered you’ve stopped moving. You get his attention, “Hey, baby Hoonie.” Your thumb is caressing his cheek softly as you speak to him with a voice as sweet as raw sugar.

He leans into your hand and finally makes eye contact. “Mhm,” he hums in response.

“Are you still okay, love? Can we keep going?” You feel a tinge of concern. He’s already cum once, and the stimulation has only gotten more intense. You have been coasting on the sight of him wrecked for the whole night and can almost ignore the minimal vibrations against you. Jihoon, however, has been experiencing a barrage of sensations with few breaks. 

“Yes, please,” he says, perking up almost instantly. He starts to wiggle his hips seeming to have finally noticed the lack of movement.

You smile and kiss his lips. “Okay, good. I’m gonna let you come again. Are you ready?”

Jihoon nods eagerly, “Yes! I’m ready! Please, I really want it.”

“I’ll always give you what you want, my sweet baby Jihoonie.” You move in to kiss him sensually, sliding your tongue against his and absolutely loving the taste of all of him. You remove your fingers and finally grab the dildo. Breaking the kiss to sit up, you examine the toy before applying a generous amount of lube to it. You rock your hips against the toy in your underwear as well. Before you move any further, you reach down and turn the vibrations to a higher level. You have to still yourself and focus, not letting the pleasure take over and make you finish before your boyfriend. You take several deep breaths before continuing.

Jihoon waits patiently and moves without fuss, mostly anticipating what you need to do. He’s been on his back all night because you want him in the position with the least maintenance. You don’t want him to strain or anything; he just gets to sit back and relax tonight. You’re not going to try to fold him in some way; you just need his knees up, exposing his leaking cock and stretched hole. You rub the blunt tip of the large dildo against him. Your lips intertwine with his once more as a distraction from the push of the toy into him. It’s a thick toy that stretches him open wider than your three fingers could. He’s vocal in the kiss, but you bring your hand to his hard shaft and stroke until the dildo bottoms out inside of him.

You begin pumping the toy in and out of him, fucking him open carefully. Jihoon feels like he’s on fire. The stretch in his asshole pairs with the warmth of the lube to set him ablaze. Your hand on his wet cock adds fuel to the fire in him, making him sweat. Your pace is steady with both tasks you're carrying out. You don’t need to be brutal; Jihoon is already a mess under your control. His voice strains against your lips, and you are overcome with the desire to hear him at this moment. You trail down again to suck at his hard nipples and listen to him mew and squeal so high-pitched. He’s enjoying every second, and he’s so close. You realize that you are too and lean into the vibrator satisfying you. Jihoon’s hips begin to buck up into your hand. You have to put your weight on your elbows to hold him still, so you don’t lose your rhythm with the dildo pumping a little harder inside of him. 

Jihoon is restless. You become sloppier as well as you begin to lose focus and take in the pleasure of vibrations and the way your boyfriend jerks against your touches. There’s a shift in his hips and then he gasps into loud, desperate moans. The dildo now brushes against his prostate, bringing his stimulation to a high maximum. You move to look at his face again, and there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Cum for me. You can do it. Cum for me, baby Hoonie,” you coax him to it, tightening your grip on his cock. With just a few calculated, rough thrusts of the dildo against his g-spot, Jihoon comes in strong bursts. More of his cum glazes his stomach along with your hand. You take him through it, slowing your strokes and thrusts. Watching him makes you follow close behind, cumming against your vibrator. You are both utterly wrecked, panting, and sweating.

After an extended amount of clean-up time, you both lay in the fresh sheets you put on the bed. Jihoon is bathed and mostly dry when he sinks down to curl up next to you. He lays his head on your chest, and you stroke his damp hair. “That was fun, wasn’t it, baby?” Your voice is close to a whisper.

“Yes,” he breathes out, “Thank you for taking charge tonight.”

“Anytime. Actually, it wouldn’t kill you to feel subby more often,” you joke to him, and he buries his face in your chest, embarrassed.

“It might,” he says back with his voice muffled by your t-shirt.

You laugh softly and reply, “I love you, Jihoon.”

The last words Jihoon gets out before succumbing to his exhaustion are “I love you, too”. He feels incredibly safe and secure in your arms. You love being able to be that for him once in a while. Listening to his steady breathing, you drift off into a blissful sleep, as well.

[strnilolover]

ditzy!reader and player!chris first date 😔

i could definitely see player!chris taking ditsy!reader to a place she’s been wanting to go to for a while because he just likes seeing her happy.

(i suck at writing in third person, so y’all are getting second person)

Your hands nervously smoothed over your outfit, your frame standing in front of your mirror. Earlier in the day, chris had asked you if you wanted to go somewhere with him. And you hesitantly agreed, but were happy he asked you to go somewhere.

When you felt like you were ready, you made your way out your front door — quickly locking the door. When you turned back around, chris was already there. His body leaning against his passenger side door.

“There ya are angel — thought you bailed on me last second.” He said, smiling as he opened the car door for you. You laughed nervously, ducking your head as you tucked yourself into his car. “Sorry… I just… um…” your words tampering off.

“Relax,” he said, leaning down in the doors frame as he watched you buckle yourself. “no need to be nervous, you know me.” he stated before closing your door and swiftly making his way to the drivers side.

Once you were on the road, you couldn’t help but wonder where he was taking you. You wanted to ask, but every time you opened your mouth, your nerves got the best of you. After a few minutes of silence, chris glanced over at you, grinning.

His hand reached over, placing it on top of your own before giving it a gentle squeeze. “You can ask where we’re going, you know.” You flushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh… right. Where are we going?”

He chuckled, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “It’s a surprise. But I think you’ll like it.”

He drove a little longer, the city lights giving way to quieter streets until he pulled up to a cozy little bookstore nestled between two cafes. You eyes widened in surprise, a small gasp escaping your lips as you recognized it.

“This… this is a place i’ve been wanting to come to for a while.” you exclaimed, turning to him, your eyes sparkling. “How did you…?”

He shrugged, trying to look casual, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You might’ve mentioned it once or twice. Figured it was worth checking out.” he said, getting out of the car as he made his way to your side, opening the door for you.

The bookstore was small and dimly lit, shelves packed tightly with books of all kinds, from fantasy novels to historical memoirs. The smell of old paper and coffee filled the air, instantly making you feel at home. You glanced at him, still in awe, and he just nodded toward the door.

“After you, darlin’”

Inside, you wandered through the aisles, fingers brushing over the spines of books. You stopped at a shelf lined with fantasy novels, picking up one you’d been wanting to read. You turned it over in your hands, momentarily lost in the synopsis.

When you looked up, chris was leaning against the shelf, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk. “You’re seriously just going to read? Didn’t know you’d ditch me for a book.” he said, faking a pout.

You blushed, hands fumbling with the book. “No! I just… I really like this one. I’ve been wanting to read it for a while.”

“Then get it,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. When you hesitated, he rolled his eyes and snatched it out of your hands, heading toward the counter. “Consider it a gift, yeah?”

Your cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “Chris, you don’t have to—” He gave you a look, cutting you off. “I know. But I want to.” and you stopped, figuring he probably wouldn’t budge.

While he bought the book, you wandered toward the small coffee shop section at the back, feeling her heart race. You weren’t sure if it was because you had never been here before or if it was because he had brought her here. Chris, who you thought barely listened when you rambled about books, had actually remembered something you’d mentioned in passing. It was more thoughtful than you’d ever expected.

When he returned, book in hand, he nodded toward the coffee counter. “Go on, order whatever you want.” you opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you another ‘don’t start’ look and quickly dropped it.

So you picked a simple drink, something warm and comforting, and you sat down in the corner by a small round table, surrounded by shelves of books on all sides. You took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through you, and looked up to find chris already looking at you.

“So,” he said, leaning back, his arms folding behind his head. “have you been wanting to come here for a while? i know you mentioned it like, oh i don’t know, a billion times.” He teased, smirking.

You nodded, glancing around. “I saw this place on a post a friend of mine made… it looked so wonderful and it honestly doesn’t disappoint.” You admitted.

He chuckled. “I can tell. You look like you’re in heaven.” You looked down, blushing. “I just… really like books. They’re like… little worlds, you know? Places you can escape to.”

“Can’t say I get it, but… I don’t mind seeing you happy,” he said, his usual teasing tone gone. You glanced up, “So, what’s that one about?” he asked, nodding toward the book he’d just bought you.

You started to explain, describing the plot with growing excitement, your nerves forgotten. You were so absorbed in telling him about the story that you didn’t notice the way he was watching you. His usual smirk was now a smile. Something that only you really did to him.

As you finished, you glanced up, catching his gaze, and felt your face grow warm again. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to go on like that.” He shook his head, a faint smile still lingering. “Nah, it’s cute. Always seeing you get so excited over some books.”

You looked down, biting you lip to hide your smile. “I’m just… really happy you brought me here. I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t think you’d even remember.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just because I don’t spend all day reading doesn’t mean I don’t listen. Besides,” he added, leaning in closer, “I like seeing you like this.”

Your breath caught, heart pounding as you managed a soft, “Thank you… really.” He reached over, taking the book from your hands and flipping through the pages casually. “Guess I’ll have to read it, see what all the fuss is about.”

You laughed nervously, unsure if he was serious or just teasing. “I… think you might actually like it.” He smirked, setting the book down, his gaze steady on you. “Maybe I will. Maybe you’ll just have to tell me more about it.”

You stayed a while longer, sipping coffee and talking in quiet voices, surrounded by books and the warm, cozy ambiance of the shop. When it was time to go, he held the door open for you, walking you back to his car. You hugged the book close to your chest, a smile lingering on your face as you drove back in comfortable silence.

When you got home and reached your doorstep, he turned to you with that familiar smirk.

For a second, you thought he might lean in — and when he did, you froze. Quickly putting your hand up to rest on his chest. He stopped, a puzzled look coming across his face — but he just smiled. Opting to take your hand and press a small peck to it.

“s’okay angel.” he said as he pulled back. When he turned to walk away, he looked back at you. “see ya tomorrow, yeah?” and at that, all you did was nod.

© strnilolover

[solaiced]

CASE 24: NANAMI KENTO IS A MAN OF ???

!content!: body worship, cock warming, fluff, barely any smut, and you warm nanami to sleep.

wc: 515

solace:in the corner, you can see me crying over drafts.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Nanami Kento loves you. God, he loved you so much, he'd deny heaven and choose to stay by your side for eternity, because that would come to be the same thing to him.

So, there were no surprises when he came home from work, took off his clothes as he headed to your shared bedroom, because you’re his safe place. Each time, he laid on your soft and plump chest, grumbling about his colleagues. And you welcomed him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, putting away the book you'd been reading, and listened to him rant, letting him rest for the first time since he woke up.

Kento’s eyes drift up to yours, his beautitul caramel eyes softening when he looks at you, pupils dilating.

His rugged hands, right one's ring finger glinting in the light, roam your body, sliding over every curve and perfecting detail, because to him, you couldn't be impertect. You were the standard, the one person everyone should look up to you and admire you as he does.

"Hello, my love." Kento breathes, kissing your breasts adoringly.

"Hello, darling." You whisper back, nails tracing down his under cut and raking down his spine, causing him to shiver in pleasure.

"Do you mind staying like this?"

He asks, shifting to lay flat on the mattress between your spread legs.

"No, I don't, let's stay like this.” You kiss his forehead and feel the muscles on his back contract.

"Good." Kento smiles and closes his eyes and lets his hands do the seeing.

His calloused finger tips dance over the strap on your shoulders, slipping them down slowly, his hands go over your collar bone, your breasts, your navel, your stomach and your hips. You hum contendedy, also closing your eyes while locking your legs around his waist.

Your husband kisses your skin, pulling your nightgown down to suck hickeys on the side of your

breasts. His tongue lazily dances over your perky nipples, worshipping every inch of skin he could reach.

Kento sighs, happy to be in your care. He opens his eyes, looking up. "Cuddle under the blanket?" He suggests, to which you immediately nod, but add, "Take off your boxers and I'll warm you, okay?"

"Yeah," He mumbles, shifting to get his briefs off and lays under sheets as you follow, slipping out of your night gown and lying next to him.

Kento pushes his half-hard cock into you, grunting and moaning at the same time you did when he bottoms out, balls resting near your ass. You prop your self up and climb on Kento’s chest while warming his cock to sleep on his body. You both pure happily once you’re settled under the covers.

“We'll eat brunch tomorrow to make up for dinner, tonight, let's just sleep." You acquiesce while your husband wraps his comfortable arms around you and pecks your forehead.

"Okay, I love you." You respond, eyes closed as sleep overtakes, making your eyelids heavy and your limbs limp.

“Goodnight, I love you more." Kento admits. And it's true. Nanami Kento worshipped you.