#so i just make eye contact with them occasionally in hopes that they remember me

[mildew-dread-mold]

my school campus is literally so big it qualifies as it’s own town, has a hospital, rcmp, high school, and elementary school and yet i run into the same 4 people on a regular basis (have not spoken to any of them, they don’t know i exist, i know their names and hobbies purely by accident)

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt. 

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you. 

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

[moonpjs]

pairing. nerd!haechan x fem!reader | cw. smut, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms

a/n: thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, i hope you like it <3 the request can be found here!

Pussy drunk Haechan just can’t get enough of how you taste ever since the first time he was between your thighs. Always bringing up how you taste better and better each time, never wanting to get bored of it.

After inviting him around to your dorm, initially to help you study for an exam, things took a turn in a way that both of you had hoped for. You remembered more about what makes Haechan tick than anything about the topic you were about to be tested on.

And since then he’s been so entranced by your pussy. He feels like he could be there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He can forget about everything and focus all his attention on you and what felt like a blessing between your legs.

Once again, you and Haechan found yourselves in your dorm after your shared class. You both lay on your bed with his arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling you closer nearly every second as he practically made out with your pussy.

You squirmed beneath him, sweet moans slipping through your parted lips, feeling his warm tongue circle over your clit. Occasionally sucking on the bundle of nerves.

His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose every few minutes, having to push them back up every time. Only keeping them on so he could see the pleasure on your face perfectly, taking pride in how he’s making you feel.

“Fuck, you taste so good baby” he whined into your pussy.

You had already cum once, but you know Haechan’s not quite finished at that point. Never hesitating to get at least one more orgasm out of you, only stopping if you tell him to.

A hand found its way to tug on his hair, pushing him onto you, eliciting lengthy whines out of him every time your grip tightened.

The feeling shot straight down to his cock, causing his hips to grind against the bed, trying to find some sort of friction through his shorts. His moans vibrated against your heat, creating a new sensation for you.

You loved the sounds he made, making your core dripping every time you hear them.

The grip on your thighs became stronger as you noticed him rubbing himself onto the sheets.

The view of Haechan at that moment turned you on even more, loving how desperate he was getting, making your back arch and brows knit together.

Haechan continued to lap at your cunt like he was a starved man. Like it was a necessity to live. Never giving either of you a break. Especially when you’d cum for the second time, eyes screwing shut.

Your moans grew more beautiful and lewd at the same time. Your clit felt so sensitive as he licked you clean, not wasting anything.

You’d think he was tired by now, having been at it for about 30 minutes. His forehead showed a sheen behind his locks. But other than that, there was no indication that he was going to stop any time soon.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the loss of contact from his tongue.

Your eyes slowly opened. He raised his head from where he nestled in between your legs, looking up at you. Your hand dropped from his hair to cup his right cheek.

Even after having cum twice and your pussy feeling overstimulated, the way Haechan looked gave you butterflies. He made you shudder and bite your lip. Suddenly not wanting this to be over.

His eyes gazed at you with desire while his lips were plump and covered in your slick. He looked so good, you just wanted to devour him right then and there.

He panted, licking your juices off his lips. He planted wet kisses along the soft skin of your left thigh and then the other before looking up at you again.

“Can you give me one more, baby please?”

[writing-flower]

“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”

First act: “From the roots”

Prologue: “Happy fifteenth birthday! (Again?)”

WARNING: Mention of blood and death.

Chapter I

Masterlist

My memory had never been the best, it was good, but not exceptional. Nothing out of this world.

I wasn't as smart as Damian or Tim, I wasn't as strong as Jason or Dick, nor was I as sharp as Bruce Wayne.

I wasn't exceptional, but I was good, but not good enough for them. For him.

God, I was so focused on getting his attention, playing sports, try to pass every subject with the highest grade, join any club like debate or math.

Anything, but all that never leads to anything.

Well, almost nothing, everything I did only caused Damian to see me as a desperate for attention, which, he wasn't wrong.

But still, it didn't make it hurt any less, every insult, malicious insinuation even the occasional threat flying through the air, each one was the result of three years of trying to get someone to look at me.

Sometimes that attention only appeared with Dick, on the few times that he came to visit and came across a scene of me with Damian, He immediately stopped him.

Forcing him to apologize, spoiler, he never apologized.

The first time it happened I thought that my attempts had finally yielded good results, but no, I dare say this was worse.

As if he gave me hope and then suddenly he snatches it away without any fanfare.

Oh wait, that's literally what happened.

And about the others, I didn't even have the chance to talk to them, simply because I was already tired and also because if Damian continued he would have more reasons to screw me.

And let's face it, nobody wants to feed the wolf because you know it bites.

In this case, the bird.

It didn't help that almost the entire family was going on patrol, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in being part of that, but then I remember Jason...I immediately got that idea out of my mind.

Mm, but if I stop to think, or rather, remember, another thing that I learned in my attempts to get my family's attention, I fell in love with dance.

It was the only class that I didn't drop like the others, I genuinely loved it.

Once in her class, the teacher made us all dance with large, long, and thin fabrics. She made us dance what we wanted, in her words: “Dance as if you were free”.

My companions danced with joy, I just stayed silent for a few moments watching them without knowing how to start.

But then I sighed to close my eyes, letting my body move as it wanted.

“Dance as if you were free” I thought, I started to imagine the music in my head. It was nice, I love it.

I went from knowing what the hell to do to starting to laugh with my classmates, I turned around and then curtsied, feeling how almost all the fabric covered my body.

I open my eyes and see my entire audience applauding, not just me, but also the rest of the dancers.

As soon as I turned eighteen I followed my teacher's advice. I didn't do it before because I was a minor, I needed my tutor's permission and blah blah blah...

Contact with my family at this point was zero, except for the new member, Duke, a sweet and kind boy.

Just looking at him made prayers come to mind for Bruce.

“If you let this kid end up like Jason, I’ll take care of throwing the Joker at you myself, you unhappy idiot.” I was thinking but also listening as Duke energetically told me what his first patrol had been like.

I used to have a certain respect for Bruce, I mean, he's Batman and he does everything in his power to make sure Gotham isn't in such a shitty place.

But then I remember that he keeps adopting children as if they were dogs to give them "A better life" by turning them into human weapons.

Sooooo, yeah, I wish that every day he wakes up with a backache and a headache.

"[Name]"

"Yes dear?" Through the mirror I watched Duke looking at me hopefully as I put on my makeup for the upcoming performance in an hour.

Oh no, I already know what he's going to ask.

"Why do you never come to the mansion?" God, I swear he does that look on purpose, brat.

I sigh as I turn around to look at him.

"You already know my answer, I have no reason to do it and I don't want to either." I said as I turned back to the mirror to continue.

"Yes! I know, but why exactly don't you want to?"

A silence reigned in the room, putting on my makeup but at the same time thinking about what to answer him.

As much as I resent the Waynes, they didn't do anything to Duke, until now, they treat him as he deserves and the last thing I want is to plant that seed of hatred towards them in Duke.

Because I know him, as soon as I tell him what my childhood was like in that mansion and those responsible, the first thing he will do is complain.

And at this point in my life I don't want any unnecessary drama with them.

I lowered the lipstick and looked at him.

"I never liked being in that mansion, since I was little I was always afraid of those giant, dark hallways, and I still am."

Duke stared at me in bewilderment. "Is that the only reason you don't want to come to the mansion?"

I nodded. "It sounds stupid, I know, but every time I walk down those halls it brings back bad memories."

That wasn't a lie.

Duke was silent for a few moments before coming up to me and hugging me.

"Aww, honey you are such a sweetheart sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Yeah, because you can be a brat sometimes too." I laughed as I ruffled Duke's hair until it was disheveled.

"A white lie won't hurt anyone." I thought while Duke laughed and tried to pull my hand out of his hair.

Without realizing it, it was already time to start. I said goodbye to Duke, telling him to go back to the mansion, but he insisted on staying.

Something I allowed, GOD, I should have begged him not to do it.

Because from one moment to the next while I was dancing, all the lights went out and when they came back on I felt like blood was flooding my mouth, like everyone was screaming in fear.

What happened? Why am I bleeding?

Duke, he was next to me trying to keep me awake, to not close my eyes.

It got to the point where I couldn't hear anything he was saying, it was complicated while I felt like a part of my body was bleeding non-stop.

I hate to see him cry, please look away... leave me here.

Please...

I don't want the last thing I see to be you crying...

Please...

She opened her eyes calmly and confusedly, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. She thought she was in a hospital because of the light.

But when her vision stopped blurring, she realized that the light was not from a hospital spotlight, but from the skylight in the wooden ceiling.

"Wait...Skylight?" She muttered, feeling her voice raspy and her throat sore.

The bed wasn't that soft, it was really hard and uncomfortable but still [Name] didn't want to get up, after almost dying...

[Name] sat up in bed right away.

"I ALMOST DIE!" She literally jumped out of bed and ran to the closet to get her clothes.

She needed to see how Duke was doing, his desperate face and the way he held back the urge to cry and couldn't, broke her heart.

But it was when she pulled out a t-shirt that she realized.

"This isn't my size..." Confused, [Name] walked over to the mirror.

If Duke broke her heart, now she's literally having a heart attack.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" [Name] could swear that any living thing that was near her would have run away in less time than it takes a rooster to crow.

She touched her face carefully, as if it would disappear or break if she touched it hard, this is so weird...a woman in her late twenties trapped in her fifteen year old self, god, what a hell.

[Name] She stepped back without taking her eyes off the mirror while she sat back down on her bed.

On the other side of the door, she heard someone knocking on it two or three times. Accompanied by a soft but direct voice calling her name.

"Miss [Name]"

[Name] immediately turned around to stare at the door, for a few short moments no one said anything, there was only silence.

"Are you okay? You didn't come down to breakfast. That's not something usual for you." Alfred said once he got no response from her.

"Yeah, I'm fine Alfred...I just stayed up late last night that's all..." She didn't know what to say, obviously it wasn't okay, but she didn't want any more problems in her head, she just wanted to focus on the main problem.

She literally just got younger, which would be a good thing if it weren't for the fact that she also came back to this damn mansion.

"Okay, miss, I'll be waiting for you with your breakfast, you need to eat something before you start the day." [Name] was about to reply until Alfred stepped in. "Also, Happy Birthday Miss."

She didn't say anything, she didn't want to.

Alfred walked away from the door, [Name] could hear his footsteps moving away through the hallways and down the stairs.

"Was it always this quiet?" She muttered in her mind as she turned her gaze back to the mirror.

She thought about her life before coming back here, it wasn't good, she didn't earn much from dancing, but... it was her life, a life that took her time to perfect.

And now, I go back to the beginning? Shit, no.

"Alive or dead, I don't care, either way I'm getting out of here..." She said with some frustration and tiredness. "Happy birthday to me...that's new."

With nothing left to lose, she gets back out of bed to find some clothes to change into.

It was her birthday and she had to look good.

And hopefully, it would be the last birthday she would spend in this mansion.

NOTES: Hi, I hope everything is okay, even if it's better than me, I had finished the 'prologue' a while ago but I was feeling a bit unsure that something felt out of place or "weird".

I repeat and reiterate, I can understand English but in terms of speaking/writing it I am still learning. Until I feel completely confident for now I will continue using the translator (my savior).

But if there are any errors (probably some, I hope not many) let me know, I want everyone to be able to read comfortably and as long as I can I will make it happen.

Anyway, I hope you like it, I love you! Muak muak💋💋

TAGS:

@crazycaoticsimp @closetreader1864

[bewaryofpity]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU - N. HISCHIER

[6.7k] when you received a call from your ex on christmas eve, the last thing you wanted to do was to pretend you're still together in front of his parents.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, exes to lovers, angst, fluff, unprotected p in v (wrap it up !), creampie, oral both f and m receiving, slightly unedited, if i missed anything pls let me know

a/n: i have no idea what this is lol, i did lose the plot at some point so the ending i planned didn’t make it and so didn’t the title, anyhow i think it’s best this way. i hope you all enjoy ! feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

.

A year had passed, it was December again and Nico had done nothing if not being stuck with the same feeling of missing you. Almost an entire year of no contact, apart from a few congrats texts for your occasional achievements, and yet there he was staring at his phone for the third time tonight, his thumb hovering over your name. 

Nico was no coward, he needed to keep his head on his shoulders for his line of work, but he was certainly trying to find any excuse to keep him from calling you. Almost one year of convincing himself that he moved on, that he was content with how your relationship has ended, just for all that progress to crumble at his feet because he was, actually, a coward. 

But this wasn’t just about him. His parents were in town for Christmas for the first time in years, excited to finally spend the holidays in New Jersey with his son. And they expected you to be there. He hadn’t told them you two broke up, though. He couldn’t. He was never able to break the news to his mom who considered you as her daughter, and he had to pay the price now.

With a heavy sigh, Nico pressed call. He immediately started to regret calling, cringing at the idea of a missed call on your phone if he hung up now, when the ringing stopped.

“Hello?” You said, voice coated with slight confusion. Nico felt a punch to the chest at the sound of your voice, all at once familiar and foreign.

“Hey, it’s me.” Nico’s voice faltered.

“I know.” You promptly utter. Silence fell on the line.

“It’s been a while, I know,” Nico mumbled “but I need a favor.” You hummed as an acknowledgement for him to keep speaking. 

“My parents are in town for Christmas and they expect to see you.”

“I don’t see why they—”

“I never told them.”

Nico was almost sure you hung up for how quiet you became. His heart drumming in his chest was making him more helpless than he already was, unable to come up with something else to say. 

His phone sat heavy on his hand when he heard you take a deep breath. A nervous laugh escaped your mouth, what the hell whispered in between. 

“You’ve had all this time to tell them we broke up, what were you waiting for?” Your voice lacked judgment. 

“I know I messed up,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But they’re here now, and I—I didn’t know how to tell them. It’s Christmas tomorrow, Y/N. They’re so excited to see you. I just need you to come tonight or tomorrow. Please.”

“Nico—”

“It’s just one dinner. Then you’ll never have to hear from me again. I swear. If not for me, do it for them at least.”

He could almost see your furrowed eyebrows and the silence on the line was suffocating him again. Your calm breathing was making his chest tight, not ready to brace for rejection.

“Okay.”

He took a long exhale, “thank you.” He spoke softly, a small smile painting his lips.

Before he had the chance to speak up, you had already hung up. Nico sat back, his head tipping against the edge of the couch, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling while bringing his arm down with a thud. Your voice still echoed in his ears, each word carving a hollow space in his chest. Your voice was as warm as he remembered, yet so flat.

Y/N: spare key still under the mat? i’m coming after work, not sure about tomorrow.

Nico’s phone vibrated in his hand, your text’s preview giving him some reassurance.

Nico: yes Nico: and thank you

He pushed himself off the couch, his body feeling heavy. It wasn’t long before he had to go and pick up his parents from the airport. He absentmindedly picked up his car keys and walked out to his car.

It was supposed to be simple. A call, a favor, a dinner. But he has been clinging to the idea of you, of what you used to be, that he now felt like facing the consequences of his own actions instead of dragging you back into his life would have been a much better idea. 

Nico didn’t realize the drive, the pick up, and the drive back to his apartment had already happened. Tension began coiling in his chest, the heavy weight he kept feeling for days now coming back.

He didn’t want to see you, actually. Or maybe he did. His mind was bringing him back to the night you both had reluctantly agreed that a break up was needed. It was no secret to you that he didn’t want to break up, he told you then. He wasn’t happy, he felt like dying for the most part. He couldn’t sleep, let alone leave his apartment if not for practice and games. But that was what you wanted and he gave it to you.

“You okay in there, kid?” His dad’s call out echoed from the living room, bringing him back to reality. 

“Yeah, I just needed water.” Nico called back. When he turned around to join them in the living room, he was met with his mom leaning on the kitchen doorway. With eyes wide, he gave her a tight lipped smile, hoping she won’t question his behavior. I’m fine wouldn’t have been enough for her, she could always see right through him, and even if Nico told her the truth it probably wouldn’t have made him feel any better.

Before she could say something, the front door opened and his mom jumped to see you, forgetting about his son, and Nico stayed there with goosebumps forming on his arms, hot and cold shivers running down his spine. 

Upon entering you heard a brief silence. You didn’t even register that his mom was right there that she already jogged to bring you in her arms. You were frozen in your space for a second, unsure of what to do. The last time you’d seen each other was the summer Nico brought you to Switzerland where everything felt so right. Yet here you were. You missed her, that was true; she reached out to you a few times, and despite knowing it was out of the kindness of her heart, you couldn’t help but think of how many excuses Nico threw at her for your not being around. How he lied to his mom for all this time was something you couldn’t comprehend.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you, sweetheart!” She cheered, parting slightly from the hug and giving your shoulders a comforting squeeze.

“Hi, Mrs. Hischier.”

“Please, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me Katja.” She waved you off and you smiled. His dad followed, giving you a simple side hug.

As his parents continued fussing over you, Nico finally moved to the living room to watch the scene unfold. You stood in his apartment again and it felt like you never left. You were beautiful and you had those rosy cheeks you would get from the cold wind of Jersey that Nico loved so much. The ache in his chest grew and it was getting hard to resist the tears that kept forming in his eyes since this morning.

When you made eye contact with Nico it was like someone punched you in the chest. His brown eyes were glossy, wide like a deer in headlights. He didn’t shave, not that he did often, but it looked less kept than it usually was.

You reluctantly stepped towards him, gaze focused on his chest and that’s when you saw his left hand twitch in your direction before he brought it back down. It completely left your mind that you couldn’t keep your distance from him now with his parents here. Though the moments you two kissed in front of family were almost nonexistent, Nico was always the kind of guy to keep you close within arm reach, so no physical contact would be odd.

So you did the most natural thing you could do. You gave him a hug. Your skin was burning where he was touching you. It felt like that night again and you wanted to disappear. You felt his heart rapidly thumping in his chest, or maybe it was yours. It didn’t really matter. Nico looked at his mom before he looked down at you. He was getting overwhelmed with the amount of times he almost cried only today and prayed for the day to come to an end sooner.

“Hey.” Your voice was small, audible only to him. He replied with an equally small hey, throat dry. Silence stretched between you and you could feel the tension on your skin. A small part of you couldn’t part ways as you inhaled his scent. The warmth from his chest was seeping through his hoodie and you wished you could just stay there a little longer.

You barely drew back when Katja put a hand on your shoulder and brought you back into her with a side hug. 

“Come, sit. Let me catch you up while we eat. I’ll show you some pictures from this summer, it was a shame you couldn’t come to Switzerland this time.”

You casted a glance at Nico which he avoided. You barely registered Katja’s words as she scrolled through her phone for you and all you could think of was how she deserved to know. She looked so happy sharing these memories with you, as though you still belonged here, and it wasn’t her fault that she believed so. 

“Next time, you have to come. We missed you so much.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You swallowed hard, forcing another smile. Nico shifted in his chair beside you, his hand reaching for his water but his posture was rigid. He didn’t say a word, you could feel the tension radiating off him silently acknowledging the lie hanging in the air. A part of you wanted to say something, to clear the air, because his mom was kind, but it wasn’t for you to deal with. It wasn’t you that lied.

The pizza in front of you looked unpleasant as the ache in your stomach made you more nauseous. 

*

You wanted to go home. Nico’s parents called it a night early blaming it on jet lag and that tomorrow is gonna be a big day, his father said.

You were left alone with Nico in the living room, neither of you were saying anything. You were just staring ahead paying no mind to whatever Christmas movie was left playing softly on the TV.

It was awkward. You put yourself in this situation because you missed Nico, truthfully. When he called you this morning you weren’t really thinking of what was best for you, you just wanted an excuse to come back to him. Selfish as it was. It was rather hypocritical that you craved his presence again after you were the one to propose the break up. But you spent two years together so your whole life consisted of him. He was everywhere, your apartment smelled like him even months after he left, things he left behind that both of you have forgotten about were lingering in a corner in your closet. It took time letting him go from your mind, but you were here and it felt so wrong. The look he gave you when you parted from your hug earlier made you feel so guilty.

“I’ll sleep here, you can take the bed.” Nico said softly, voice above a whisper. You startled anyway, jerking your head in his direction. You had told him earlier that to not raise any suspicion with his parents, you would spend the night here.

“It’s your bed.” You replied with the same tone. He looked at you now, his brown eyes glowing in the dim light emanating from the TV. You couldn’t take the bed, it would smell like him and you could endure it only so much before going crazy. 

“It doesn't matter.”

“What are you gonna tell them when they find you here in the morning?” He didn’t answer, instead he brought his focus back to the TV. Were you going to regret this? Probably. “Just come to bed with me, Nico.”

Avoiding his gaze, you slowly began walking towards his room, your feet moving on their own accord. Everything was left the same. The pit in your stomach grew tighter when you pushed the door to his room open and blindly reached for the lamp on the nightstand. The patter of Nico’s feet grew louder until he reached his bedroom’s doorway.

“There’s still some clothes you left here.” He motioned to the dresser next to him. You hummed in response and as he rummaged through one of the drawers, you stood by the bed like you couldn't move. Idiot. If you weren't staring at him so intensely you would've missed how shaky his hands were when he reached for you to grab at your clothes. You peered up for a second, his gaze focused on the clothes in his hand heavy.

“I’ll–”

“Yeah.”

The bathroom door clicked shut behind you, your forehead coming to rest on it. He was beautiful. And he made your heart warm like he always knew how to. But he wasn’t the Nico you always knew, you could see it in his eyes. Fear started pooling in your stomach. Was it your doing? You avoided the mirror in front of you completely.

After hastily changing and brushing your teeth, you joined him back into the room. He was already under the covers, on his usual side, front facing the window. You quietly got under the blanket too and laid close to the end of the bed staring at the ceiling. The hum of the heater filled the silence, yet the weight of unspoken words pressed down on your heart.

“Never thought you’d say yes.”

You took your time to respond and kept staring at the white ceiling illuminated by the moonlight coming through the curtains’ gap.

“Why?”

The rustling of the covers filled the silence as Nico shifted slightly. 

“You made it seem like you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

“I don’t regret you, Nico.”

“I never said you did.”

You exhaled sharply. The weight of the duvet became unbearable, and with a swift motion you shoved it off, pooling in your lap; arms followed with a dull thud, slamming onto the bunched-up duvet. The cold air nipped at your exposed burning skin.

“Talk to me.” You breathed. Nico didn't move and you were growing frustrated. “Do you regret it?”

“Being with you? Sometimes. I made many mistakes and you were always there for me and I took that for granted. I pushed you away when you needed me most, and by the time I realized it, it was too late. I know you deserve so much better but deep down, I wish we didn't end that night, we just stay there and talk it out.”

“I think that maybe I would always let you come back” he said softly, almost inaudibly, “not that I waited for you, exactly. But when I called you this morning and you agreed, I had the tiniest hope that things could change. If you came, and at the end of the night told me you still loved me and asked me to be yours again… I'm not sure there’s anything in the world I wouldn't have done for that to really happen.”

Shuffling towards the middle of the bed, your hand reached for him to comb through his hair, his body jumping a little at the unexpected contact. He shifted a little to get closer to you and turned around to face you.

“You’re awful.”

“What?”

“Don’t say things like that,” you said, your voice low and strained. “Not when we’re lying here like this. I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you, Nico, I left because I didn’t recognize us anymore. You were indifferent, coming home upset and angry more often than not all because of your job. I could’ve respected that, I would’ve listened to you if you opened up to me. But you didn’t talk to me anymore and I didn’t know what to do with you, it’s like you were holding a knife to my chest and slowly pushing it deeper until you reached my heart. It got to a point where I dreamed of you asking me questions, talking to me, desiring me like you always did. Then I’d open my eyes and you're someone different.”

“Maybe in another lifetime we will find each other at the right time. Maybe we end up like this in each one, but I like to believe there is at least one where we deserve each other. I just don't think it’s this one.”

Your hand never stopped caressing through his hair. It didn’t take long for a stray tear to fall from your eye just as Nico closed his eyes to avoid his own spilling over the pillow with no avail. You halted your movements to bring your thumb under his eye and wipe at the loose tears. He didn’t say anything else, and neither did you. Nico grabbed at the covers you bunched up earlier to cover you again.

You shifted slightly, the duvet brushing against your arm as your body relaxed fully into the mattress. You felt his warmth beside you — steady and grounding. The minutes dragged on, and eventually both of your breathing slowed, evening out into sleep. 

*

It was early in the morning when Nico woke up. The sunrise barely peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow over his bed. It took him a while to realize that it wasn’t his duvet weighing on his chest, it was you. Your face was mushed and lips pouty, his right arm wrapped around you securely. You looked like an angel.

He didn’t have it in his heart to wake you up. Instead, his gaze lingered on your peaceful expression, focused on the soft rise and fall of your breaths that tickled his skin, a steady rhythm that made his chest ache. His thumb brushed against your shoulder lightly, a barely-there touch because it all felt like a dream and he didn’t want it to end. He sighed softly, tilting his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes again. The weight of your body lulled him back to sleep, the hold on you loosening slightly but never letting go.

Moments later, the morning light shining on your eyes stirred you awake, and you couldn’t help but blink groggily. The warmth surrounding you was so comforting that you couldn’t resist burying your face into it and that’s when your heart began to race. Nico’s face was so close you only needed to make the slightest movement before his lips would graze your forehead; his features relaxed and peaceful in his sleep. The stubble on his jaw caught the morning glow, and the soft strands of his hair brushed against his forehead.

Every instinct screamed at you to move, to untangle yourself from the undeniable comfort of being close to him again, but the minutes passed and the blush on your cheeks deepened with every second you lingered. When it became too much to bear, slowly, carefully, you slid out from under his arm, your movements cautious to avoid waking him. 

Your feet hit the cool floor and the blush now burning like wildfire across your cheeks while you tiptoed to the kitchen, closing the door gently behind you. The conversation with Nico kept replaying in your head, or rather the fact that he was crying, and Nico never cried in front of you unless they were happy tears. 

You relished in his touch. The feeling of his stubble on your hands was something you never thought you’d miss, yet the rough texture was rather comforting. And then this morning when his lips have probably grazed your skin in your sleep at least once, you wished you were conscious to savor it like you actually didn't deserve. 

“Huh?”

“I said good morning and merry Christmas.” Katja smiled brightly at you, Rino mirroring her action while also raising his coffee cup. You looked ridiculous still in your rumpled makeshift pajamas and your face still flushed from the morning’s events. 

“Oh, merry Christmas.” You offered a small smile as you moved to pour yourself some coffee, hyper aware of their presence. Despite the blush painting your cheeks, you started to feel cold. The t-shirt Nico gave you was thin, an old band shirt you left behind, but the pants were scrunched at your feet. He didn’t notice they were actually his yesterday, they were always yours to wear anyway.

“You’re up early,” Katja remarked, setting her coffee cup on the table. “I thought for sure you two would sleep in after staying up so late talking.”

Your hand froze mid-reach, “yeah, just couldn’t sleep much.” You replied, hoping your tone was casual enough.

She gave you a look but said nothing, her warm demeanor unchanging though she definitely knew something was off. Did she actually hear what you said yesterday night? The walls couldn’t be that thin, right? The sound of footsteps from the hallway behind you woke you up a little, and you didn’t need to turn around to know it was Nico.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep. You turned slightly, catching sight of him leaning against the counter next to you. His brown hair was disheveled and his shirt slightly wrinkled, but his expression was almost unreadable. If you didn’t know otherwise, you would’ve mistaken his slightly puffy eyes for sleepiness.

His gaze lingered on the ground for a moment, and then he tilted his head up, noticing the way you had wrapped your free arm around yourself. Before you could protest, Nico walked out of the kitchen. Katja glanced at you confused after he barely acknowledged her or Rino.

“Here,” he said, holding his black hoodie from yesterday out to you. It was your favorite, the one that was so fuzzy inside it felt like a blanket and the one he would leave behind for you when he left for road trips. You blinked, momentarily stunned by the gesture. 

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“You’re shivering.” He interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. His gaze met yours and reluctantly you took the hoodie, your fingers brushing his briefly as you did.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, slipping it over your head. The warmth was immediate, just like the familiar trace of his scent as it filled your senses. What made it impossible to bear was Nico leaning over just slightly to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. Blush be damned.

Nico moved around the kitchen to pour himself some coffee as you caught the faintest hint of a smirk on Katja’s face. As she walked past to place her now empty cup in the sink, she leaned close to you with the same sly smile still playing on her lips.

“We’re not gonna let Nico cook alone later, right?”

*

The day went by fast and dinner was long done. The unavoidable intimacy seemed to dissipate the cold demeanor you had opted for yesterday when you arrived, just as Nico started to look less dejected. Letting him back in your life wouldn’t be that bad, after all, you did drop everything to be here with him. You still loved him, just like he did you, but you couldn’t accept coming back to Nico after all this pain you left him with.

“What happened between you and Nico?”

The question made you falter, almost dropping the already slippery plate in your hands. There was no you and Nico anymore. Whatever happened between you two didn’t matter anymore as now none of it made sense. It was your mistake all along, the break up. Because if it wasn’t for a bad day at work for the both of you, you wouldn’t have fought and none of this would have happened.

“Why?”

“You two seem off.”

You wanted out of the relationship for your own sake, yet you didn’t realize how much you were hurting until yesterday. The no escaping his touch or his gaze made your head dizzy because it took you months before you convinced yourself that you were fine without him, and now that Nico was gentle to you even in the mess he created that he so wanted to disappear from, your newfound façade was long gone.

“Nothing. Our schedules clashed often and we didn't have much time for ourselves.”

Part of it was true if you thought back to last year. With Nico constantly on road trips and his team not playing their best, and your job keeping you away from him, the only time you saw each other was during nighttime. And with both of you exhausted there wasn’t much to say without striking a nerve.

Katja leaned her hip on the counter, leaning slightly to try to read your expression, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept scrubbing the same plate over and over again. 

You didn’t notice Nico lingering by the door until his mom placed a hand on your shoulder. You turned around in his direction as she walked past him with a good night under her breath, just as Nico came to stand in her previous spot.

“How long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough to tell you that that plate is clean enough.”

You handed him the last plate with a sigh and as you waited for him to dry it, you couldn’t help but stare at his faint smile. Before you could stop yourself, your hand reached for his cheek, brushing at the small new scar there. His movements hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, your hand dropping slightly at the action. You almost missed the way his gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before looking back into your eyes.

Maybe it was the wine you both drank earlier or maybe it was meant to happen. Nico leaned down, cupping your face to kiss you. It was gentle, a bit hesitant, almost as if he was giving you space to pull away. But you didn’t, not even if your brain told you so.

He pulled away, lips still brushing yours and his eyes closed. You missed his lips on yours, so soft and tender just as you remembered and desperately wished to feel again.

“I’m sor—“

You didn’t let him finish as you put your lips back on his, hands making their way from his chest to wrap around his neck. You were desperate for more, fearing that the moment would end too soon, but Nico squeezed your hip a little to ground you. He wasn’t going anywhere.

His tongue brushed your lips and you let him in. A small moan escaped his mouth and you couldn’t help but feed into it. A faint taste of wine still lingered on his tongue, sweetness clouding your thoughts.

“Please tell me to stop”

“No, don’t stop.”

Both of his hands trailed their way around your body, eager to feel every curve of your body again. He needed to feel you, keep his hands on you to ground himself because he was scared this actually never happened and it was just a sick joke his mind was playing.

As the kiss grew more sloppy and hands roaming with no set purpose, Nico held you impossibly closer to him, his body heat burning against your skin. He held tightly onto your waist, murmuring a small jump against your lips as he hoisted you up the counter, legs instinctively wrapping around his lower back.

The overwhelming feeling of it all almost made you cry. It was tender, yet the way your lips moved set a different pace.

“Take me to bed, Nico.”

He gently pushed away strands of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes before his hand rested on your cheek. “We don’t have to, we can stop now and it’ll all be okay.”

“I need you to make love to me.” And Nico grabbed at your thighs, keeping you tight against his chest as he walked to his bedroom. You didn’t have to tell him twice, he just wanted to give you space in case this was too much.

He laid you gently on the bed and kissed you again, fervor replaced by love. He pecked your lips before pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said as one of his hands traveled up your hoodie, leaving a tingling trail where he had touched you, while the other one gave him support by your head.

You brought his lips back on yours, thumbs tracing every curve of his cheeks. Beard tickling your skin, his plush lower lip found its way between yours, and he allowed his mouth to smile against yours for the first time today. You were lost in the feeling of him, and so was him with yours, lips brushing as though this was the lifetime in which you were meant for each other. 

What you once knew as love filled both of your hearts again. This wasn’t fair. His hands on you, his lips on you, you in his bed. It wasn’t fair because you broke his heart, just as you broke your own.

“Take my hoodie off.” You whispered and he obliged. Nico’s nose skimmed along your neck, delighting himself in the way your skin felt along the warmth of his own. And he allowed himself to slide down to trace the skin of your collarbone, then kissing along the ridges of your ribs and allowing himself to drown once more in you.

As his lips reached your hips, he looked up at you smiling so sweetly, a sort of reassurance painting your face. He slid your jeans off before he brought himself up to you, reveling in the feeling of your chest meeting his own with every heaving breath. The soft lace of your bra brushed his chest, catching the curves and edges of his skin.

It had been too long since you’d felt his touch —or anyone’s for that matter— so the touch of his hands against your skin was enough to fuel the pulsing ache between your legs. 

You took his hand in yours, placing a kiss on the center of his palm before slowly guiding his hand down to your center. And Nico never stopped looking at you, not even when the feeling of the damp fabric as he slid a finger over your clothed slit made a groan escape his lips.

He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses on his way back to your thighs, discarding your bra in the process. You whined when he nipped his teeth against the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you whined again at the soft brush of his mustache on the same spot.

Gently pushing your panties aside, Nico stroked two fingers along your now-bare slit, heat rushing to his cheeks at the way your hips involuntarily rolled into him, chest heaving at his touch. 

“Is this okay?” You nodded in response and he didn’t wait much before dipping into your core. With a gentle grip, he pushed your thighs apart, kissing your folds before licking a long stripe over them. 

And Nico was in heaven as you squirmed under his touch, reveling in the feeling of your warm thighs caging his head as soft moans escaped your mouth. The scratch of his beard sent jolts down your spine and when he added a finger inside of you, you couldn’t help the buckle of your hips against his mouth.

Your hand busied through his hair, fingers tugging at his roots gently and the vibrations from his groans against your clit sent you overwhelming waves of pleasure. You sounded like an angel to his ears and Nico had to roll his hips onto the bed sheets to soothe himself just a little bit.

“Please give it to me, baby.” Nico murmured against your core as he added another finger.

And you dared to look down at him, so concentrated in getting a taste of you, gently and slowly because he missed this and his body yearned for a taste of you like a drug.

The feeling of his fingers curling inside of you in the right spots and his tongue applying pressure on your clit were enough for the air to leave your lungs. With a moan, slightly too loud, you came on his fingers and Nico held you against him to catch every single drop of your release.

“You taste so sweet, baby.”

Baby. You opened your eyes to see his cheeks red, your arousal coating his chin and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon through hazy eyes. It didn’t come as a surprise to you when a tear fell from your eyes, and soon you couldn’t stop them from running down your cheeks.

He kissed his way up to you with a sort of urgency to cradle your face in his hands. And the tears didn’t stop when he tried to kiss them away.

“I’m right here, you’re okay.”

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

It was the only thing you could say, really, unsure whether the apology was directed to yourself or him. But it didn’t really matter because he was here now, in your arms, sensitive and tender as ever. 

“Nico”

“Mh?” His face mere inches away from yours, noses and lips brushing.

“Let me take care of you.”

Nico would have told you no, because he didn’t need your mouth to show him you still loved him, your words were more than enough to him. But your hands moved from his shoulders down to his chest, stopping right at his heart and he knew you could feel his heart racing up. 

So he let you guide him on his back as you shifted on top of him, straddling his thighs before kissing your way down. You mouthed at the skin on his neck, focusing on sucking at the pulsing point connecting at his shoulder.

His abs clenched under the touch of your hands and a staggered breath left his lips when your face reached the band of his boxers. You kissed around his hips, delicate fingers tracing up and down his thighs as you teased his tip over his boxers with a kiss, causing it to jump under your touch. You noticed a small damp spot and you smiled, pulling down his boxers agonizingly slow. Eager as he has always been with you, you knew it took every ounce of control for him not to lose himself then.

You brought your hand to the base of his cock, his breath hitching as you pumped him slowly, and squeezing just slightly to milk precum out of his tip. You followed the vein from the base to his tip with your tongue as your thumb pressed over the leaking slit, hips jumping at your touch.

“Please don’t tease me.” He whined under his breath, watching as you brought your thumb to your lips. And how could you say no to that?

You parted your lips to suck at his tip, sinking down until you reached his base and Nico shivered underneath you at the contact with the back of your throat. Your mouth continued to work around him, and he whimpered as you flatten your tongue to take more of him into your mouth. And he was drowning in pleasure as you used one of your hands to wrap around what you couldn’t take in your mouth as the other gripped at his thigh.

You made eye contact with him when his right hand caressed through your hair and you moaned around him, a few strands of his hair sticking to his forehead and chest flushed. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you knew he was close. He was in such a haze he almost missed that a few more strokes of your tongue would’ve made him come, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to relish in the feeling of your walls for that.

A soft stop left his lips just as his hand carefully pulled at your hair to get you off him. And the sight of you, lips parted and wet and subtly swollen, weren’t helping his cause.

He shifted his weight onto his elbow, other hand cradling your face to pull you in for a chaste kiss. 

“Let me be yours.”

“You’ve always been.”

With his head on your shoulder, he gently pushed you down onto your back. Nico lifted himself to his knees, sliding his boxers down his legs and slipping out of them before hovering you again and removing your panties. His forehead came to rest against yours, eyes fluttering shut as he paused in his movements to take it all in. He had you again and he needed to make the most out of his time, fear looming in the back of his mind that you’d still leave tomorrow without a word.

Your hands cupped his jaw and you arched forward to capture his lips on yours. It was slow, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. Eagerly, he pressed into your touch, the soft weight of his chest pressing into yours comforting.

Your legs wrapped around his torso hoping to get some relief from your aching core. And Nico never stopped kissing you as he aligned himself with your entrance, teasing you with his length along your slit and causing you to buck, moans suppressed by his saccharine lips.

As he inched in, deeper into you, Nico savoured your warmth as if you were made just for him —and truthfully you were— movements deliberate and steady just like how he knew you liked.

He didn’t want to seem desperate but you were squeezing him tight, nails digging into his back and your arms wrapped tightly around him refusing to let him go. With the heels of your feet pressing into his lower back, he knew not to be ashamed for your desperation matched his. 

His body curled over yours, nose poking at your jaw so he could bite at your throat as he keeps fucking into you. One hand came to cup the back of your neck bringing you impossibly closer, and the way he was whispering dirty little nothings, lips brushing the shell of your ear, brought you to the edge.

Nico’s set thrusts urged you ever closer to your peak as he rolled his hips into yours, movement heavy inside of you, his fingers dropping to draw circles on your sensitive clit as your labored murmuring for more fanned against his lips. And you were an angel with the way you took him, welcoming him in at the gates of heaven with your honeyed sounds.

You rushed forward, chasing his lips as your release surged through you, tightening around him with a sweet sigh and his tongue swept into your mouth as he drowned your moans. His own release followed right after, emptying inside of you. The sound of his satisfied groan blissful to your ears as he came to rest on top of you.

Heaved breathing, Nico’s head settled on your chest and you made to sweep his hair from his eyes to admire the sweat-sheen glow adorning his warm skin. Your hands worked at his shoulder, kneading the muscles there as you took every opportunity to feel his skin against yours.

Nico shifted on his side and brought you with him, taking a moment to press a kiss to his pec, his neck and his lips once again. 

“Will you let me stay?”

“I don’t think you really need my answer to that.”

Nico slid his hands up your side, bringing your thigh over his hip. His large palm heavy as you shifted impossibly closer, one hand rubbing his scalp. And you kissed him without lust, simply reveling in the feel of his tongue dancing against yours, while he followed your lead wordlessly, squeezing so tenderly at your hip because this time he knows you will be there tomorrow. And any other day after.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Happy 6k!!!! That’s so exciting and you deserve it :)

Can I request Bucky & touch starved?

.⋆｡Small Adjustments｡⋆.

Bucky Barnes x plus size reader

To Bucky, touch brought with it pain and suffering but maybe it can be different with you

Warnings:  touch starved!Bucky, fluff, mutual pining, mention of torture, bit of hurt/comfort WC: 1.3k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was an unspoken agreement amongst the Avengers that under no circumstances was Bucky to be touched. There were one too many instances of him lashing out at even the smallest of touches and after Peter’s arm was almost broken when he grabbed Bucky’s shoulder to steady himself after tripping, the rule was firmly set in place. 

Touch had always been the harbinger of pain to Bucky. He had experienced and survived thousands of experiments; he knew the difference between acids just based on how much they burned him when they made contact with his skin. He knew what it was like to be ripped apart from the inside out as he was stitched back together while fully conscious. Bucky’s nerves were permanently scarred with each and every moment of pain, ensuring that he would never forget what he had gone through. Needless to say, he appreciated the physical distance the Avengers afforded him, even if it did make his chest ache sometimes.

He saw the friendly touches between them all— a hug after a hard mission, a clap on the back during training, even the occasional platonic cuddling during movie nights and he couldn’t help but be envious, especially when it came to you.

You were, by far, the most affectionate person he had ever met. You didn’t hesitate to wrap yourself around anyone who needed a hug, your hand was quite frequently clamped with someone else’s (Natasha’s or Wanda’s more often than not). You weren’t selfish with your touch and though it could be deadly thanks to your training, Bucky knew that you would never hurt the people you cared about.

“Barnes~ where are you!” Bucky’s lips curled into a gentle smile as your voice floated through the hallway, immediately brightening up the entire building.

“I’m in the kitchen, doll!” He shouted back before your footsteps quickened and you burst into the room. Your eyes, although still bleary with sleep even though it was 2 in the afternoon, positively sparkled as soon as you spotted the ex-assassin. Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, and you flustered slightly, looking down at what you were wearing.

“I thought I lost that shirt.” 

“Yeah well don’t leave your stuff out if you don’t want someone to steal it.” You shrugged as you skipped over to the pot of fresh coffee still sitting in the machine.

“I seem to remember putting that shirt away, in my closet, in my locked bedroom.”  Bucky took a sip of his own coffee.

“I don’t know what to tell you, I think old age is finally getting to you.” You tried to hide your warming cheeks behind your mug but he could see right through you.

“Whatever you say doll.” A comfortable silence settled over the both of you for a moment before you cleared your throat.

“So… we have the place to ourselves today,” Bucky knew what was coming, “wanna binge-watch Supernatural with me?” You looked up at him with such a hopeful expression on your face, it made his heart skip a beat.

“I don’t know, I was planning on going for a long run today.” His voice tilted up but in your post-sleep haze, you couldn’t pick up on the shift in his tone. Immediately, your eyes dropped and your bottom lip poked out. Bucky’s stomach flipped and suddenly all he wanted to do was to scoop you up into his arms and kiss away your pout. Instead, he blurted out quickly, “Hey, hey. I was just teasing. Of course I’ll watch with you. Gotta see what Sean and Dan get up to.”

You sniffed. “It’s Sam and Dean and you know it. Don’t pretend you’re not as obsessed as I am.” The band around his heart loosened.

“Yeah sure. You want Chinese or Thai?” He fished his phone out from his pocket.

“Like you even have to ask.” You retorted.

——————

You felt like you were sitting next to a feral cat as the food coma finally set in. Empty boxes of food were scattered around the coffee table in front of you while yet another episode started up but it wasn’t as if you were paying any sort of attention to the screen in front of you.

Somehow, during your feast of questionable takeout, Bucky had migrated from where he had been perched on the other side of the couch to sitting beside you, the thick muscle of his thigh almost touching your knee where you were curled up. His blue eyes stayed glued to the TV while he sighed heavily and leaned back into the couch cushions.

You held your breath as his shoulders dropped, leaving barely an inch of space between you. This was the closest Bucky had ever gotten to you and you would be damned if you fucked this up. Of course you knew about his aversion to touch, you had even witnessed his violent response to it first hand but Jesus did you want to feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his body as he hugged you.

Bucky was undoubtedly your best friend out of all the Avengers yet he was the only one to have never felt your embrace. 

Your body trembled as you tried to keep yourself still. You didn’t want to accidentally brush against him and send him scrambling off but you also didn’t want to move away and give him the impression that you didn’t want him near you. And selfishly, you did want him beside you if only to fuel your hopeless crush on the man. 

There was a gunshot on the screen, startling you. You jumped and suddenly, you were half on top of Bucky. 

Your palm spread across the expanse of his stomach, letting you feel the hardness of his abs and the warmth that radiated off of him. The tip of your nose brushed against his as your eyes locked. You both stayed there for a second before the reality of the situation hit you squarely in the chest.

“Oh god Bucky I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You threw yourself back against the arm of the couch as panic bubbled up in your gut. Bucky remained frozen where he sat, both his hands slightly raised as he looked down at his lap. “Bucky I-“ Your voice was thick with tears. 

You shook your head as you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, desperately trying to keep them away. How stupid were you? You knew you should’ve just given him some more space, paid attention to the TV so you would know if something would startle you. Do literally anything else besides jumping on the man with severe trauma. You messed everything up.

“Doll,” Bucky cooed as his hand gently wrapped around your wrists, slowly pulling them down so he could look at you, “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” He chuckled softly, now bringing your hands into his lap so he could hold them.

“How could I ever be mad at you? I know it was an accident but more than that, I know you would never want to hurt me. I’m safe with you.” You could feel the slight tremble in his hands like he was struggling to keep touching you but Bucky refused to let go, he even shuffled closer to you. You nodded but stayed quiet. He finally smiled. “Besides, I think it’s time I got one of those famous Y/N hugs. Not now of course, I’m way too fucked up for that, but soon.”

“Don’t be mean to yourself Barnes,” you scolded, “lots of people hurt you. You get to be patient with healing. We just make small adjustments, build up to it y’a know.”

“Yeah, small adjustments.” His right hand slid into your left, your fingers intertwining as you both melted back into the couch, your eyes drifting back to your show that neither of you would be paying any attention to. After a few minutes, Bucky’s thumb began to rub against the skin of your knuckles, a delicate back and forth that both sent a flurry of butterflies into flight in your stomach and ignited your cheeks with a blazing heat.

Small adjustments indeed.

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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[yara0546]

hey<3 can u do how dreamies would celebrate V'Day with their s/o?

Nct dream reaction | celebrating Valentine's Day together

୨୧ Pairing: nct dream x reader

୨୧ Genre: Fluff, Comfort, relationship.

୨୧ Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

✦ Mark

Mark is the type to go all out but in the most genuine way. He'd show up at your place with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a small box of chocolates, and a nervous smile.

"Hey, uhm… Happy Valentine’s Day! I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I just… got everything?" He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You laugh, pulling him into a hug. "Mark, this is perfect."

You both spend the evening at a cozy café, talking about everything and nothing, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours as he shyly reaches for your hand.

✦ Renjun

Renjun would pretend he doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day but still ends up planning something meaningful. He surprises you with a painting he made one that captures a beautiful moment you shared.

"I mean, it’s not a big deal or anything… but I thought you might like it," he says, avoiding eye contact as he hands it to you.

Your eyes widen. "Renjun, this is amazing! You remembered that day?"

He smirks, crossing his arms. "Of course, I did. I remember everything about you."

You melt on the spot.

✦ Jeno

Jeno doesn’t say much, but his actions scream love. He picks you up on his motorcycle, handing you a helmet. "Come with me. I have a surprise."

He takes you to a quiet hilltop overlooking the city, where he’s set up a small picnic. You sit beside him, leaning into his warmth as he gently intertwines his fingers with yours.

"I’m not great with words, but… I just want you to know that you’re really special to me," he says softly.

You smile, squeezing his hand. "I know, Jeno. I feel the same way."

✦ Haechan

Haechan would tease you all day, pretending he forgot about Valentine's. He acts completely normal, making you pout.

"Wait, today’s special? Why? Your birthday isn’t until…" he trails off, grinning as you glare at him.

But later, he surprises you with a candlelit dinner he prepared himself. As you take a bite, he watches you expectantly.

"I might have burned the first batch, but this one’s good, right?"

You giggle. "It’s perfect, Hyuck."

"Just like us," he winks, making you roll your eyes but blush anyway.

✦ Jaemin

Jaemin is all about affection, so expect a day full of cuddles, sweet whispers, and small surprises. He appears at your door with a giant teddy bear.

"So, this is my stand in when I’m not around," he jokes, hugging you tightly.

He takes you to an amusement park, where he wins you a bunch of prizes. At the Ferris wheel's highest point, he looks at you with that signature soft gaze.

"You know… I think I love you."

Your breath catches, and you whisper back, "I think I love you too."

He grins, pulling you closer.

✦ Chenle

Chenle would turn Valentine’s Day into something fun. Instead of a traditional date, he surprises you with an arcade challenge.

"If I win more tickets, you owe me boba!" he declares.

You playfully nudge him. "And if I win?"

He smirks. "Then I’ll buy you whatever you want."

After a day of laughter, he hands you a bracelet. "I saw this and thought it’d look good on you."

You smile, slipping it on. "Thank you, Chenle."

"Anything for my favorite person," he winks.

✦ Jisung

Jisung would be super nervous but determined to make the day special. He’d shyly hand you a heart-shaped box.

"I… I made these chocolates. I hope they’re okay."

You take a bite and smile. "Jisung, these are delicious!"

His ears turn red. "Really? I was so scared you wouldn’t like them."

You giggle, hugging him. "You’re adorable."

He buries his face in his hands. "Stop, you’re making me more nervous!"

But deep down, he’s happy you loved his gift.

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 20

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hope you’re ready for sad Remy hours. 💔 Like and rb please! It makes me so happy seeing y’all’s comments even if I’m stressing y’all tf out lol. Love you all! Tune in next Thursday for the next chapter!

Remy’s POV

The last thing I remember is shattered glass, inflated airbags, and a loud car alarm. A faint memory of a man reaching through my once tinted window with a phone to his ear clashed with visions of blood all over me. I could smell and taste it, bringing a hand to my nose and lips. When I looked down at my fingertips there was blood, so much blood. The sight of glass shards clinging to my skin where they dug in made me lightheaded, as I leaned my head back into the headrest and allowed my eyes to close. The last thing I laid my eyes on before waking up here was the crumpled up metal hood on the rental.

Now I was sitting up on two very flat pillows stacked together, and occasionally staring at the bright hospital ceiling lights, counting each tile between them. My nurse, Mrs. Parker, was very attentive, helping me do things I couldn’t do with one hand, and keeping me pumped with drugs. I don’t know what’s worse. The body pain or the dwindling anesthesia leaving my arm.

I was trying to keep down some lime flavored jello, when she came in with an extra blanket for me. It was warm, like it had just come out of the dryer. “Here you go, dear.” She extended it over my body, throwing it up in the air so it falls down, layering over the other blankets.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” I smiled faintly, licking jello off a plastic spoon.

“You’re getting discharged tomorrow. Is anybody picking you up?” She waited for me to finish my jello cup so she could thrown it in the trash.

I shook my head, “I have to uber to the airport. I’m checking flights today.”

She looked a bit troubled, frowning slightly. “Do you at least have a change of clothes?”

“What’s wrong with the clothes I had on before?” I tilt my head.

“They’re-“ she stopped herself, taking the empty cup from me. “-Not clean, my dear. There’s… blood from the accident.”

I nodded, touching the bandage covering the gash on my forehead. “I didn’t know it was that much blood.”

She fluffed the pillows under my back, “Did your momma ever come see you after I went home yesterday?” She asked. After waking up a couple days ago, she told me my mother would be on her way to see me. I assumed they’d contacted her while I was still under.

“No… She called me though. I told her not to come, that it’s too far of a drive.” I lied, knowing she called me only to fill her quota. Only to comply with the unwritten rule that if a family member is in the hospital, you have to at least check in. She hadn’t offered to come see me.

Nurse Parker gave me my morning antibiotics, then left the room without showing that signature smile I had seen every day since I woke up from surgery.

Two nights ago is when I woke up from surgery. A full blown panic attack as I came off the sedatives welcomed me into my hospital room. Mrs. Parker did her best to calm me down. I had very little recollection of the accident, or what happened after I got hit.

I had somewhat of a blurry image that slowly came to mind like a puzzle solving itself. It might’ve been one of those weird visions during surgeries you hear about in books, about your body coming out of itself in a birds eye view. Or maybe just a dream I had before waking up. The image was of a girl with dark hair and light complexion, with familiar facial structure. I was almost 100% it was Billie, but it could’ve been another nurse taking care of me. Her demeanor was sweet and careful, a protective energy enveloped my unconscious mind. It felt like the color gold, warm and mellow.

I knew it was just a mere hallucination. If Billie had really been here, she’d be here, still. She would’ve waited until I woke up, and I’d probably be having to convince her— force her to leave and tend to her tour.

How fucked up, I thought. My own mother not here, but Billie and her family would be if they knew. And that’s when it hit me. She’s the one I wanted here, not my parents. I thought about calling or texting her, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I let her down and create a streak of undependability, and then ask her to come see me in the hospital? That’s fucked up. I’d already screwed it all up. All I know is I have to fix this.

Next morning, the nurses prepped me so I could leave. Nurse Parker seemed a bit off and I feared I had done something to tick her off. Maybe I asked for way too many cups of jello. I shrugged it off, signing the stack of discharge paperwork in front of me.

“Still no companion for the ride home?” She asked, wiping the dry erase board in my room clean.

“No, I’m okay, it’s not necessary anyway.” I shook my head, giving her a smile. I wonder why she cares this much, and if she gives all her other patients this much grief about being lonely.

Last night, she walked in on me crying. I couldn’t put a pin on what exactly was wrong. It was a multitude of things. There was, of course, being lonely. My absent mother, all of the mistakes I made in the past month somehow resurfacing as I’m trying to sleep, and poor Billie. This is how she must’ve felt each and every time I left her on the back burner. The mirage-like image of her looking down at me burned in my mind.

I felt like an idiot more than I felt sorry about myself. Especially after checking my voicemails and work emails. Joe was having a bitch fit over my no-call no-show. Despite having emailed HR about my accident, all he cared about was the fact that I didn’t call him directly. He gave me until the end of the month to recover, but I planned on working from home in the meantime. Eventually, Rachel reached out, asking me if I needed anything, and not to worry because Joe was in the middle of hiring a temp to fill in for me. I was replaceable, and it stung.

Nurse Parker folded up the extra blankets I no longer needed, as if to stay occupied while I finished up. Eyeing her, I continued to read through the never ending pile.

“Thank you for being so good to me.” I said to her.

“It’s my job, dear.”

I handed her the paperwork I finished, skimming through the last packet. “Can I ask you a weird question, Mrs. Parker?”

She looked up from her folding, “Yes, dear?”

“And please, don’t keep me here any longer, I promise this isn’t a crazy brain damage side effect thing.”

She laughed, putting a hand on her hip.

“Do people ever see things after surgery?”

She lifted a brow, “see… things?”

“Like,” I started, putting the pen down. “People.”

“Girl, I have nightshift today, don’t scare me like that.” She chuckled.

“No, no, not like that.” I laughed, “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

She watched me run a hand through my hair. “Okay. Here’s all of it.” I gave her the last bit of papers.

She read through it, making sure all of it was filled out, then walking out without saying anything. I sucked on my teeth. I definitely creeped her out.

I sighed, waiting to be lead out of here. My feet dangled off the hospital bed while I rummaged through my purse for sunglasses to hide my horrendous eye bags.

Nurse Parker walked back in with a folded stack of clothes. Without saying a word, she placed it on my bed, holding eye contact with me, before walking out.

I examined the clothing, holding up a large, dark green sweatshirt with embroidering on the front, and pair of black joggers to go along. The sweet, yet woody base notes filled my nose when I brought the hoodie to my face. I know exactly who the clothes belong to, bringing me to tears.

I got up, changing into them as fast as I could with one arm, tears fogging up my vision. I quickly walked out with my things, finding Mrs. Parker.

“So she was really here?” I asked, probably looking insane to the other nurses behind the desk.

She blinked, “I have no idea who you’re talking about, dear.”

“The clothes— Did you see who dropped these off for me?”

She placed a hand on my good arm gently, giving me goosebumps. “These are yours, aren’t they?” She said, monotoned.

I furrowed my brows, “No—“ I stopped myself, looking down at the new outfit I was wearing. I know she said the clothes from my accident were bloody.

She looked into my eyes, nodding slowly, as if to confirm my thoughts.

“You’re good to go, look out for any bills in the mail. Your insurance is taking care of a good chunk.” A discharge nurse handed me a sheet with post-surgery care instructions and pointed me through the door.

I nodded, walking away. Before walking through the door I looked back at Mrs. Parker, who quickly looked away from me, making herself busy.

******

In the comfort of my own home, I became restless. There was not much for me to do, barely anyone to talk to, and other than working on a few ideas for the column, I bore myself half to death. I tried to keep myself preoccupied to no avail. It wasn’t like me to sit still with nothing to work toward. My mother’s voice echoed in my head anytime I wanted to just sit and relax instead of cleaning, or working, or anything she deemed efficient.

December 18th, Billie’s birthday, finally came around, and as the holidays quickly approached, so did the empty, lonely feeling I always get. This is the first birthday that Billie and I won’t spend together. We had spent every single one of our birthdays together since we were 7 years old. I wonder if she was somewhere feeling like a part of her is missing too, or if her other friends filled that hole for her.

The presents I wrapped about a month ago were still under the tree I put up the day after thanksgiving. The sudden, sharp pain of buried memories hit me each time my eyes landed under the tree. I had presents for both my parents, a few coworkers I actually liked, friends, but also Billie, and her family.

I thought about actually spending Christmas with my parents this year, because what else am I going to do? I hadn’t spent Christmas with them in years. The divorce made things difficult, and to avoid the whole “you chose to spend more time with mom over me, or vise versa” trope, I’d always make up some excuse about work, and spending it with Billie’s family instead.

Billie, I thought. Her birthday present under the tree was the biggest. Wrapped in smooth, gold, wrapping paper, the good kind that took time to rip open, and a huge, gold, satin ribbon bow tying it all together. Inside was a scrapbook photo album I’d been working on since she started the making of her new album, focusing on time spent together. She didn’t know I had carefully handpicked each photo, ready to write paragraphs on how much each moment they represented meant to me. I wanted to rip open her present and go through the album myself. I wanted to throw myself on the floor as I thought about how I originally planned to read through the scrapbook alongside Billie.

I imagined the two of us on my couch, indulging in some sort of fresh pastry, turning the pages together and cackling about each memory and the flashbacks they’d bring. She’d smack my arm, or hit me with a cushion, each time a picture she didn’t love of herself made an appearance, and I’d explain away her self-critiques.

I wanted to watch her open my gift ever so gently, the way she always did, examining each fold and admiring my wrapping skills, while I tell her, “Just rip it open!!” And then, she’d save the ribbon, as always, saying she’d use it for another gift, another time, knowing she’d just hold onto it forever in a box full of other used gift bags and bows.

Billie, I thought, Billie needs my gift. She needs to know how wrong she is about me not caring about her, about how I looked up to her, about how much I noticed her, and wanted her to know I was there. Even nuzzled in a corner reading a book, or typing away at my keyboard, while she wrote music and recorded into her microphone, I admired each careful note and harmony that went into her vision. The spark in her every time she successfully added to a song without too much pressure never went unnoticed, and neither did her best efforts to keep our relationship afloat.

I’m going to make things right, I thought. But how? Introducing; my new preoccupation project.

[butterflywingswrites]

apologies for not posting for a bit, it felt weird with the stalker information to post this content about caitlin. i figured since she’s now made a few public appearances it would be ok to post (also please send me asks!)

reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

giving caitlin a massage on vacation part 5

“pretty girl you look a little frustrated” caitlin giggled as she washed her hands. neck kisses and thigh touches then pulling away would’ve made you frustrated. finger sucking then pulling away would’ve made you frustrated. both made you painfully frustrated. literally painful. your clit was throbbing, begging, screaming for caitlin. your pussy was tingling and soaking. your nipples have never been harder. you’ve never wanted anyone so badly in your life

“cait stop being cute. if you don’t touch me, i’ll just have to do it myself” countless times after you and caitlin cuddled while watching tv you had to go into the bathroom to get yourself off after she went to sleep

“can i watch?” she smirked at you

“only if i can watch you” you threw it right back at her, never breaking eye contact through the mirror as you washed your hands. that idea sounded hot as hell and you wouldn’t say no to it… later. right now your body was craving caitlin and only she could satisfy you. you looked down for a second to dry your hands and caitlin was right next to you. she walked forwards and pushed you backwards with her body out of the bathroom and into the little entrance hallway

“oh you think you’re so cute?” her tongue swiped against her lower lip

“i do. and i think you think do too” your back hit the wall “don’t start something you can’t finish”

“i fully intend on making you finish” finally finally finally, she kissed you. it was wet and messy and filthy like this morning but not sweet or slow. she was kissing you hard and fast. it was different than the kiss you enjoyed so much this morning but just as good. you moved your hands up her thighs and onto her ass. she grabbed your hands and brought them over your head

“you took care of me all day today, now it’s time for me to take care of you” despite the way she was just kissing you aggressively and the fact she was pinning both of your wrists to the wall with one of her large hands, her words were soft and-dare you think-affectionate. she resumed kissing you and used the hand that wasn’t pinning you down to grab your tits. she pinched your nipple through her shirt that you were wearing and you squeaked. a literal fucking squeak left your mouth. her effect on you was insane. you both giggled at your squeak

“you like that pretty girl?” all you could do is moan in response as she moved to kissing your neck. the kisses were completely opposite the neck kisses she was giving you earlier. these were hot, open mouthed kisses with an occasional nip of her teeth. after a particularly hard suck where your neck met your shoulder, caitlin released your hands and got on her knees. having a strong powerful woman on her knees for you was fucking hot. especially this woman who you’ve wanted for so long. when she grabbed your left leg and threw it over her shoulder, you knew you were in for it. she kissed your knee and began to kiss slowly up your thigh

“mhmm caity please” you moaned out as you pulled on her hair. she giggled against your thigh

“remember when you took a million years to fuck me this morning by taking time on my thighs? i’m just doing the same to you” sure your clit was throbbing and your underwear was soaked, but this was a pain you were willing to endure. caitlin taking her time on your thigh before eating you out was a dream come true (literally, this was the subject of many of your wet dreams). you stared at her as she lightly sucked and kissed your thigh. at this point you were pretty sure this wouldn’t be a one time thing, but you were still determined to remember this moment as detailed as possible. it was your turn to let out soft moans and sweet whimpers. you hope she enjoyed them as much as you enjoyed hers this morning. hopefully she’ll let you touch her again and you can make her make those beautiful noises again. her right hand gripped your hip and started rubbing your hipbone like she did before she took your dress off earlier. her left hand ran up and down the thigh she wasn’t kissing. you knew she was multi-talented but to have both hands occupied while kissing your thigh was impressive. she spent a good amount of time on the same spot on your thigh, causing you to let out a strained moan

“are you suffering yet? are you aching yet?” caitlin was adamant on making you beg for her

“i’m suffering and aching but unfortunately for you, i like it. spend as much time on my thighs as you want” you would beg for her if she asked, but she didn’t ask. besides, you surely were going to be begging her later. she let out a frustrated moan against your thigh at your words, she was used to getting her way. nevertheless, she continued kissing and sucking on your thigh, moving up super slowly in an effort to torture you. your thigh was going to be covered in marks tomorrow but you couldn’t care less. when she finally got to your underwear but still didn’t get what she wanted, she admitted defeat

“what do you want pretty girl? beg for it”

“caity please” she smirked against your thigh

“please what? use your words”

“please eat my pussy”

“well why didn’t you just say so?” she used the hand that was going up and down your thigh to move your underwear to the side. you let out a large moan of relief and satisfaction when her mouth made contact with your clit. she sucked softly on your clit, surprising you. she was so aggressive this morning and her words made you think she would be the same now. but it wasn’t an unpleasant surprise. you tugged on her hair as she alternated between soft sucks and gentle licks at your clit. you couldn’t hold back your moans even if you tried, but you weren’t trying. you could tell she liked hearing your moans and what kind of friend would you be to deny her something she was clearly enjoying? you let out a particularly loud moan as she moved her attention from your clit to your pussy. she lapped lightly at your wetness but didn’t do more than that. your grip on her hair tightened and you could feel that she was smiling. she knew she had you. fuck it

“i need more” with your admission, she moved her hand to massage your clit and began to eat you out. she was soft and slow but still intense. completely opposite this morning but still incredible. multi-talented indeed. she ate you out until you were about to cum

“say my name pretty girl. say. my. name”

“caitlin!” you screamed as you came. she stood up, her hand still on your hipbone to steady you. again with the wide doe-y eyes and the wet face. you stared at her

“what’s wrong?” she mistook your look of adoration for concern. you giggled

“nothing. you just look pretty with my cum on your face” her jaw dropped and she joined you in your laughter

“just for that, i’m going to make you watch more olympics instead of making you cum again like i planned”

“caitlinnnnn” you whined

“don’t worry, i’m going to make you cum again but now you’ll have to wait” she dragged you to the bed and pulled you into her. that damn tv watching position again. how could you focus on the olympics when she promised to make you cum again and you wanted to touch her so bad? she absentmindedly ran her fingers up and down the inside of your thighs like before, but this time you knew it was on purpose. eventually, she started giving you sweet kisses on your neck. she continued with the thigh touching and neck kissing without doing anything more

“caitlin please” you whined out for her. you proved your point, you were cute with her before, now it was time for her to touch you

“take your underwear off” she basically growled at you. you practically ripped your underwear off and threw them god knows where in the room. you pulled her shirt that you were wearing above your hips. you can’t get that dirty. she put two fingers to your lips again. without hesitation, you let her put them in your mouth

“you like that, huh?” she teased “you like my fingers in your mouth? you’re so dirty. thigh kisser, ab licker, finger sucker. my pretty girl is filthy” she said as if you weren’t already soaking wet despite your orgasm not too long ago. she didn’t need to tease you, you were already beyond ready for her. she pulled her fingers out of your mouth and rubbed them up and down your pussy. she took mercy on you and put her fingers inside you

she curled her fingers up and you practically screamed. her fingers were so long, hitting all the spots you liked with ease. fuck this was even better than you imagined. she kissed your neck as she continued fingering you. your neck was going to be a mess tomorrow, even worse than your thigh. you groaned loudly as she curled her long fingers again. your hand gripped her hand that wasn’t inside you. you slid your fingers between hers, your thumb rubbing her hand. maybe that was too intimate but you were too occupied by her fingers to worry about exposing your crush. with a final curl of her fingers, you screamed her name as you reached your orgasm

she removed her fingers from inside you and made a show of licking them clean. fuck. why was she so fucking hot? your heart starting racing at the fact she didn’t move your hand off of hers. this felt right, like you were supposed to be doing this with her always. you couldn’t wait to touch her. even though you touched her this morning, years of built up wanting made it feel like it’s been longer. she moved out from behind you and got out of bed. you were too fucked out to think about what she was doing. she came back into the room with a damp washcloth

“normally i’d lick you clean but i thought it might overstimulate you” she began wiping you off with the washcloth. lick me clean? fuck. what did you do to deserve this woman? “wow it’s really a mess down here” caitlin laughed

“it’s your fault” you laughed and raised your eyebrows at her

“yeah” she joked “i’m great at this”

“yeah you are” you got serious “that was really fucking good”

“good” she placed the washcloth on the nightstand as she sat down next to you “i’m glad i could make you feel good”

“when you said i was filthy, you got something wrong” you moved you and caitlin so you were straddling her in the middle of the bed

“oh yeah? what’s that? are you not a thigh kisser, ab licker, and finger sucker?”

“oh i am. but you forgot girl kisser”

[auggiethefool]

Hi! Could you do another Varian oneshot where the reader is the one flustering him instead? You can do whatever you want for it! I just like seeing him being flustered, thank you <33

Sure! i hope this is what you had in mind. if not, you can get a full refund lol.

Cuddled Up | Varian x GN!Reader | Oneshot

Varian was quietly enjoying a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter day, reminiscing on old memories. 

The only source of light and the warmest spot in his home was the fireplace. So naturally he was huddled up to it, awaiting someone. 

Though it hurts to look back on the past, amidst all the trials and tribulations, he still finds all those little moments where things weren't so bad. Like the time cassandra saved his butt. or all those other times rapunzel saved his butt. 

Huh…

Now he was just thinking of the strange pattern of women in his life saving his ass. 

“Varian!” 

Oh wow, speaking of saving his ass! Y/N had just come at the right time. 

“Thank goodness, Y/N, did you manage to fetch all those ingredients I wrote down?” He had inquired, giving a gentle smile. 

“Unfortunately, no. Every place is closed due to the weather conditions.” 

Varians smile deflated. 

“I already told you, Varian. No place would be open by now.” They sighed, taking off their fluffy winter hat. “Not much we can do about it, but sit back and enjoy some hot drinks.” 

“Eh, I guess you're right. Want some hot cocoa?” 

“Oh, absolutely. I nearly freezed half to death out there.” they joked, and plopped themselves down next to Varian. 

As Y/N went in to drink their hot cocoa, they remembered something.

“Hey Varian, where's your dad? I didn't see him when I walked in.” 

they had asked him with their eyes fixated on the fire. Certain thoughts swirled in their head. 

“He said he was going to check something with the king. And if it started to snow heavily he would just stay in the castle.” 

He said pretty nonchalantly. As if it wasn't the first time he was left alone to take care of the house. 

“Hmm, so what you're saying is we have the house to ourselves?”

“Mhm.” 

And with that, a demon had been awoken from its slumber. Figuratively speaking of course. The demon was Y/N. 

“Oh~?” they purred as they started to wrap their arms around the alchemist, cuddling him. “How about we get a little more…comfortable, then?”

He shivered at the sudden contact. And Varian’s face began to redden. His only response was a confused nervous giggle. His eyes stayed glued to Y/N, his mind running wild.

Y/N just loved seeing him so flustered. Unable to stop themselves from messing with him, Y/N decided to take it one step further.

“Awh, you’re shivering.” They put one hand on his cheek and leaned into his ear, whispering “don’t worry, I’ll make you feel warm.” 

They then pressed their chest against his, and sat on his lap. Their faces now mere inches away from each other.

“Wait Y/N, I-“ his voice cracked

“You’re what? You’re still cold?” They asked with a smile creeping on their face. 

He thought for a moment, then very bashfully said “M-maybe.”

Y/N started laughing, And Varians expression dropped for a second time today. 

“You shoulda seen your face! Haha, god you’re so precious.” They pushed him away whilst cackling. “Oh~ Y/N~ kiss me Y/N! Hold me Y/N-“ before they could finish mocking him, he interjects.

“Stooop!” Varian threw a couch pillow at them. “For god's sake, why do you always mess with my head!”

“Cuz you’re cute, duh.” Y/N giggled and threw the pillow back. 

“I think you’re cute too, but I never mess with you!” He tossed it again at them

“Say that again-“ 

“NO.”

“C’mon you love me.” They pecked his cheek. 

“Ugh.” Varian smiled begrudgingly. A tint of red traced his cheeks ever so slightly. 

They then eased themselves back into cuddling once more. With the occasional banter here and there.

Authors note: (Again, hopefully this is what you wanted, I tried something new with making the reader more of a lil shit lol. Also if you want more flustered Varian lmk)

[mattyriddlegf]

The Stupid Closet (16)

Happy release day Sunday everyone! I hope you like this one, it is SO cute :)

please comment to be added to the tag list, enjoy!

-----------

Almost two weeks later, it was Friday night and the slytherin house was getting ready for another quidditch match, this time against Ravenclaw.

Halloween is next week and everyone has been buzzing about the party, you had even convinced Mattheo it was worth going to.

You walk to his dorm and open the door only to find it empty. You go down to the common room and see Pansy flirting with Draco on the couch…it never ends.

“Hey have you guys seen Mattheo?” You ask, looking between them.

“I think he was walking outside earlier?” Draco mentions trying to scoot away from Pansy a bit.

While he loved the attention and adoration, Pansy overdid it and always had which put him off.

“Ok” you smile, “Pansy, I heard a first year mention some gossip upstairs if you’re interested”

“Oh really? I’ll go find out.” She instantly takes off.

Draco mouths ‘thank you’ before you blow a kiss and walk out towards the garden, looking for Mattheo.

To no surprise, you find him sitting on that very same bench the two of you had grown to spending a lot of time on. He was drawing in his notebook, listening to music.

You walk up behind him and grab his headphones off his head, putting them over your ears. An older song plays, “what’s this?” 

“The smiths” he mentions casually.

You squint your eyes at him, “you never fail to surprise me.” 

He grabs the headphones back and sets them on the ground next to him, “Hi my love”

“Hi.” You reply as you lean your head on his shoulder and he takes your hand in his.

“How was your day?” Mattheo asks, stroking his thumb along your hand.

“Sooo boring. You?” You lift your head off his shoulder to look at him.

“I thought about you the whole time.” He smirks.

“Quit it.” You giggle, “you’re just trying to get in my pants.”

The two of you had slept together��.a lot so far. There was a lot of sexual tension to get out from all of these years at Hogwarts.

“So…there’s a quidditch match tomorrow.” You bring up.

“Yes, and?” He looks you in the eyes.

“Will you go with me?” You ask.

Mattheo clenches his jaw, “no. I can’t.”

You furrow your eyebrows and turn towards him, “what? Why not?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He shuts you down and lets go of your hand, looking out to the garden.

“Mattheo, you can’t just shut me out.” Your frustration grows. You hadn’t pushed him to talk about why he doesn’t play anymore but you wanted to know.

He looks at you, “you wouldn’t get it.”

“Right, like I don’t have things that are hard to talk about.” You start. You and Mattheo still butted heads occasionally, but it was different now.

“That’s not what I meant.” He says coldly as he avoids eye contact.

You grab his chin and make him look you in your eyes, “I’m not leaving until you tell me…”

Mattheo has that dead look in his eyes when you add, “please? For me?” 

He rolls his eyes but decides to tell you, “remember when I disappeared for a bit during 5th year?”

You nod your head, listening.

“I was just named captain when I had to go home. You know who my parents are and that was when Azkaban was broken into and-” he starts rambling.

You take his hand and he realizes he’s rambling. He pauses for a second before continuing, “When I came back, it was halfway through the season and Adrian Pucey replaced me as captain. I tried to focus and earn my way back but my head wasn’t there and I really fucked up. Adrian told me that I was being benched and…I started this fight with him.”

“A fight? Wait…isn’t that when he was in the hospital all winter?”

“He didn’t play for the rest of the season because of it.” He adds. Mattheo knew how to throw punches and he also knew some pretty bad curses to throw at people. “I was kicked off the team and told to never come back.”

He had never been this open with you and you had a feeling that he’s never really told anyone this story before.

“You told people you had gotten bored and quit…” you process.

“Draco, Blaise, and Theo know obviously but nobody else does. They swore to me they threatened the rest of the team to keep quiet.”

“I had no idea…” you trail off. You felt really shitty now, “baby I’m so sorry”

Mattheo looks up to you with his doe eyes before he smiles lightly, “say that again”

“Say what again?” You ask, unaware.

“What did you call me?” He smirks.

“Oh…baby? You like me calling you baby?” You tease as you run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re just so sexy” he says as he wraps you in his arms. You laugh as he buries his head in your chest.

“Matty, I think it’d be good for you to go tomorrow.” You suggest quietly.

He pulls himself off of you, “no fucking way”

“I know it’s a sore subject but I also know that you still love it…and I would be there the whole time with you.” You add.

“No. I can’t.” He rolls his eyes and looks away.

“Matty-” you try to grab his hand before he stands up.

“Just drop it ok?” He looks at you with a clenched jaw.

“Fine.” You get quiet and watch him as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You stand up and walk up behind him, setting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his waist while on your tiptoes.

He turns around in your grasp and returns your hug, “I love you. Please don’t ever leave me.”

“Mattheo, where is this coming from?” You back away, concerned.

“Everything I’ve ever loved has left. Everything. And I know I don’t deserve you.”

Nobody ever got to see this side of Mattheo and clearly you brought it out of him with the talk about the quidditch game.

“I don’t plan on leaving any time soon. Just forget I asked about it, ok? I’m not upset at all” You reply, grazing your hand over his cheek.

“I didn’t-”

“I know what you were thinking. It’s not a big deal, seriously.”

You smile lightly before you back away, “I'm gonna head back and change before dinner. I’ll see you there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He responds holding your hand as you walk away, finally letting go when you’re out of arm's reach.

You go back to your dorm and change before Pansy comes in and walks down to the great hall with you. 

You all sit at the table, eating when the topic of the match comes up. Draco and Blaise continue to talk about how well practices have been going and how they planned to dig Ravenclaw’s grave. Typically Theo participated in these discussions too but he had been skipping dinner to avoid you and Mattheo.

“Mattheo, we switched Harper to chaser like you suggested. I think she’s settling in nicely.” Draco pipes up.

His eyes gaze over towards you for a split second but he doesn’t let his persona falter.

“Good. I’m sure she’ll do fine.” He responds quickly, trying to not drag on the subject.

You watched how his eyes found their way down to his plate. How he messed with his food instead of eating it. How his jaw clenched just slightly, just enough for you to notice but nobody else.

The more you got to know him, the more you were so impressed by him. Not even you got to see his emotional side often which meant he held it all in. All to himself. You were amazed.

You watched him eat his food, trying to ignore the talk around him. You noticed his long eyelashes as he blinked and the scar on his eyebrow. 

You felt mesmerized by him. You felt…in love with him. You were in love with Mattheo Riddle. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest.

“You ok?” You snap back to reality hearing Draco ask you.

You gather yourself before responding, “I’m fine”. Your gaze finds its way back to Mattheo, him now looking at you.

You were so screwed.

taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @princessluvssleep @hatakemrs @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss @schaebickel @swamp-box @iamdnb

[screamingcrows]

@mewnbuns it's back! It's revised! There's a little more >:3

Contents: conductor!sunday x dancer!reader, fluff, established relationship, 1.3k

"Sunday?" Keeping a note of amusement out of your voice was impossible, a small smile on your lips despite the sorrowful tones emanating from the piano.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to have heard you, nor noticed that your movements had halted. A perfect mirror of your own poise, Sunday's back was straight and his shoulders relaxed- a far cry from the tension that had permeated his being when you first met.

Oh well, there was no point in interrupting him just yet.

Instead, you took the time to adjust both your chiffon skirt and the elastics holding your pointe shoes in place. The ribbons would have to be sewn on before tonight, but that was a minor problem compared to the one baring his soul in the corner.

No matter how many times you saw it, the occasional flutter of his wings when he lost himself to the music never failed to make your heart leap.

His name left your lips once more, tentative and soft, still unwilling to pry him from whatever tranquility he had attained.

The choreography had been burned into your mind years ago, having spent hours watching the older girls rehearse, trained as part of the corps de ballet, watched as a common member of the audience. So much time in preparation of portraying Odette's terrible betrayal and death.

You refused to count the amount of times Sunday had been put through evaluating if "my expression looks pained enough".

Your shins were tired from the constant pointework, only making your guilt at having coerced Sunday into rehearsing with you, knowing there was realistically nothing left to do but hope the stage lights and self imposed pressure wouldn't stun you.

This time, it was Sunday's voice that had been tinged with amusement, "Getting nervous again?"

He even had the audacity to smile, making you huff a little as you rolled your sore ankles, "No.. But you're playing too fast."

The way he straightened a little further, eyes widening almost imperceptibly should be criminal for how your throat tightened.

"Ah, apologies," he cleared his throat, looking off to the side as you approached, "I must've gotten carried away."

His hands flexed, a small sigh escaping him as you took them into your own, running a thumb across the back of his hand while sitting down beside him.

"It's fine, I suppose your inability to keep your eyes open while playing is the reason you became a conductor instead," you couldn't help but chuckle, hearing the rustle of feathers as he no doubt tried to hide his face.

"You know that's not the case..."

"Am I really such a horrid Odette that you'd rather not look?" You'd barely gotten out the quip before Sunday's head had turned, nearly giving you a mouth full of feathers in the process.

"Don't," his whisper sounded almost pained, retracting a hand to cup your cheek instead, "I hate to hear you speak that way. We can cover the mirrors if they bother you-"

"I was joking, Sunday," nimble fingers twitched against your cheek, embarrassment and relief equally clear in the sigh that left him. "It's not the mirrors bothering me."

It stung to admit even though he already knew, your soul always bared to that golden gaze.

"If the maître de ballet believes you're ready to portray Odile, then you must trust in that judgement and in yourself," you leaned into his touch, relishing the brief pause as he kissed your eyelids, "remember how you declared at our first lesson that you would be the swan princess when you grew up? There's no way around doing both roles."

You couldn't help but snort in amusement at the memory, both your own childish bravado and- "Don't forget that I wanted you there with me as my prince.."

Both of you fell silent, the wound still too fresh. It might never heal entirely.

Sunday slipped an arm around your waist, the usual disdain for dirtying himself tossed aside (almost, you did catch a small hiss when he made contact with your sweaty back). Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile a little, carefully dodging his wing to rest upon his shoulder.

"With how easy you made the pas the quatre look last year, Odile should be no challenge. Especially with how much you've improved."

Knowing it was a childish protest, you couldn't help the little grumble that escaped. "Four little swans don't have to do thirty-two fouettés..."

Sunday turned to brush his lips against the shell of your ear, "they don't get any princes either."

A small laugh escaped you as you stood, rolling your shoulders in tandem with his, so used to being in tune.

"From the top then."

The hard leather soles of your pointe shoes clacked against the vinyl floors as you quickly got into position, flicking your wrists with a grin, "Keep your eyes on me this time."

A smile twitched at the corners of his lips, "I wouldn't dream of looking away."

How were you supposed to get home? Hell, it didn't even feel like you'd be able to get changed. Getting your hands up to remove the headpiece had been enough of a challenge that you'd slumped back into your chair immediately after. That was ten minutes ago.

It had never really occurred to you just how much more movement soloists had in the choreography. You supposed it this was why having two casts to rotate between was essential. Aeons above, there was no way you were getting out of bed tomorrow.

Provided you actually made it home to your bed.

Despite it all, you couldn't help but close your eyes and smile, the heavy exhaustion mixed with warmth and satisfaction left in the wake of adrenaline. The faint scent of the bouquet of roses you'd received on stage still clung to the costume. A shame you had to return the flowers so they could be reused.

It wasn't until the door opened that you opened your eyes, immediately regretting not turning off the sharp lights lining the mirror.

"You'll get cold," as expected, Sunday sounded weary as well, his hands trembling slightly as he draped his suit jacket around your shoulders.

"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you waiting, I just gotta-" you gestured vaguely at yourself, "find the energy to change. Think I'll go straight home and sleep, so no need to wait."

What you hadn't expected was the way Sunday kneeled before you, worry etched onto those delicate features your mind always tried to overlay onto your dance partners. How cruel it was that his face was always so clearly visible from the stage. His eyes always on you with the same look as now.

"It was a stunning performance, I do hope you are proud of yourself." You could almost hear the unspoken 'I am' in his soothing tone.

"Yeah yeah... Nothing compared to your conducting, surely people couldn't tear their eyes from those big arm movements," the small flush that crept along his cheekbones.

Any further clever remarks died in a groan as the tight satin ribbons came undone, the shoes pulled off shortly after. Your eyes closed in bliss when Sunday's fingers rubbed at the ball our your foot, tension slowly bleeding from the muscles.

"You should've been on stage with me.."

Sunday sighed, pressing a kiss to your calf, "To be a prince fooled by someone masquerading as you?" The earnestness of those words had your fingers moving to tangle in his hair, a soft huff escaping you as he slowly moved further between your legs. "I'd rather have you here instead."

[en-rev]

On a Date....Kinda (Jay x 8th Member Fem! Reader

Summary:  It’s been awhile since you’ve hung out with Jay one-on-one. It’s your time however to film a vlog for fans so it's a vlog featuring Jay!

Jay’s been awake for about an hour and a half now. Occasionally glancing at his phone he wonders just when you’re going to wake up. Preparing a quick breakfast for the both of you as the rest of the members sleep he remembers just the other day when you asked him if he wanted to go out with you and film a vlog. He should’ve known that you would sleep in with that terrible sleep schedule you had. Cooking some egg sandwiches, he makes sure to prepare extras for the rest of the members, it's the least he could do since he was leaving with you for the rest of the day. Leaning against the counter on his phone he begins searching for some restaurants that he could take you to later. 

Deciding it was time to wake you up he stands at the door of your room with a hand on his hip. His stance is similar to what an uncle would look like. Knocking on your door he sighs as he waits there for a few minutes. “Y/n” he calls sternly, knocking again. Hearing nothing from you he carefully opens the door and peaks in, “I’m coming in.” he announces his presence to prevent scarring you. Immediately, he lets out a disappointed sigh when his gaze lands on your dead figure. There you were sleeping without a care in the world even though you were supposed to get up early. On your nightstand your alarm is going off yet there you are, snoring and drool collecting on your pillow. Chuckling he snaps a quick picture to show you later before he lightly shakes your shoulder. Your hair is a mess and over your face, seemingly knotted from your sleeping behaviors. Sitting down next to you he brushes your hair out of your face gently, “Y/n its time to wake up.” he speaks again, patting your head in hopes of you waking. You groan softly, eyes opening slowly as you adjust to the light and make eye contact with Jay. “What time is it?” you ask, sighing, stretching your limbs as you lay in bed still. “Late enough, you have to get recording, remember.” Jay states as you nod and get up. Standing he goes to exit your room before turning back to tell you, “I made you some food, come eat when you’re done getting dressed.” Yawning, you thanked him before grabbing the designated camera and recording a quick intro. 

Jay stood at the counter behind you as he calmly brushed and braided your hair. The camera placed in front of you recording as you explained, “Hi engene, today Jay and I are going to go out and do a little shopping and grab some food. Right now I’m eating breakfast made by Jay.” You say as you hold your breakfast item up to the camera for a clear shot, “And he’s doing my hair since it's a bit windy out today.” you smile as you take another bite of food and allow Jay to be in frame as he carefully puts your hair into two french braids. “Look at him being so nice to me today.” you state to the camera, wiggling your brows since you were trying to tease Jay. “Yah! I’m always nice to you.” he instantly replies, playfully flicking you in the face with your own hair. Giggling, you admire his work as you look at your image through the camera. “Woah, you get better and better every time. Thank you!” you exclaim as you take the final bite of your breakfast. He nods, playing with your braids for the camera, sticking them up and putting your own hair in your ears to bother you. When you finished the both of you quickly grabbed your things before heading out the the car your manager prepared for you. 

As the two of you run into the car, you kindly greet your manager before putting on your seatbelts. Despite the two of you having the whole row to yourselves, you sit right next to Jay. He chuckles at you, knowing you always liked to be close to him, lucky for you he didn’t mind. Sitting close against him you quickly pull up the camera to show a little bit of the car ride. Smiling into the camera you point it to show the road and the view before turning to show Jay. He gives a small side eye to the camera and you as a joke before smiling lightly and giving it a thumbs up. “So Jay, where are we going?” you ask as you lean against him and place both of you in the frame as you stare at your image in the camera. Bringing an arm around your shoulders to get more comfortable he smiles into the camera before looking down at you, “It’s a bit of a surprise, but I will tell you that I am taking you shopping.” he admits as he fidgets with the material of your shirt on your shoulder. “Awee you remembered when I said I wanted to go shopping?” you asked, genuinely moved by his actions. “I always do.” he says as he smirks into the camera cockily to which you laugh and push against him playfully. “Pose with me.” you say as you bring your cheek to his and attempt to pose cutely together. He lets out a sigh before giving in and bringing a heart to his other cheek, copying you. You were always able to get him to pose cutely with you and it's one of your favorite things. 

On the way, you ended up falling asleep with the camera in your hand. Jay noticed when your head fell on his shoulder, so he decided to record a small piece for your vlog. “Hi engene, today I am taking Y/n shopping, out to eat, and I think to a popular photo spot. Y/n said that she’s never, uhhh” he thinks about how he should phrase his words carefully before continuing. “She wanted to go try some coupley things she’s seen so I searched up some things that may be fun for her to do.” he explains, giving the camera a thumbs up as he shows you sleeping. Doing a double take he noticed you didn’t have a sweater despite the cold weather and shakes his head in disappointment. Carefully pushing you away he takes off leather jacket, revealing the flannel he was wearing underneath. Taking it off he places it over you before putting his jacket back on, he’ll remember to buy you one later, for now you could wear his. Unknown to him, the camera filmed him doing so and would make it into the cut of the vlog. 

Both you and Jay were standing outside the mall, waiting for your manager to come back from parking the call. You were now wearing his flannel and you were recording Jay as if he were the main subject of your film. “Jay, explain what we’re doing now.” you say, making sure the mall was in the background. He laughs before pulling you close to him and grabbing the camera, “Isn’t this vlog supposed to be about you?” he chuckles as he holds the camera to record the both of you. “Now, we’ve made it to the mall. One of my goals today is to find some cute tops and maybe some accessories. Jay here is going to help me and be my voice of reason.” you say with a wink to which he just chuckles. As your manager approaches the three of you walk in and your manager has become the designated cameraman. “Ohhh we should go to this shop first, I’ve seen some good items online!” you ecstatically explain as you pull Jay with you into the shop. He lets you drag him and watches closely as you search through racks. Grabbing items, Jay being the gentleman he is, holds all the items you’re going to try on and even grabs some you miss that he thinks would look good on you. Jay sits down and begins to ponder, his mind wandering to how he got here as he sits with a pile of clothes in his lap. On camera, he looks like he’s in a daze as you continue to shop in the background. “Jay!” you call lightly causing his head to turn and see you motioning for him to bring the clothes over to the dressing room. Sighing he stands up, “Finally, I thought I was going to end up sitting there forever.” he says, teasing you as you just laugh at him. 

After purchasing all the clothes you liked and getting Jay’s opinion on a couple of items, you felt successful in your purchases. Back in the car, you were now heading to dinner. Jay decided on the place earlier in the day and you two were now on your way to a fairly fancy restaurant at the top of a building. Chatting and joking with each other in the back of the car, Jay begins to share his recent interest in doing a guitar cover of a couple of songs. “You should totally do it! Is that why you’ve been practicing extra hard lately? I usually hear you playing in the studio or in the living room.” you ask, remembering how he’s been spending even more time with his instruments recently. “Yeah, thanks. I probably will but I just have to decide on a song.” he explains, as he mindlessly fidgets with one of the rings on your hands. “When did you get this one?” he questions as he points to the gold ring on your pinky finger. Smiling, you hold your hand up closer to his face, “I got it today, you didn't notice?” you ask. He frowns and scans the finger, it suits you he thinks as he plays with your hand for the rest of the ride, not noticing your mischievous smile. 

“No way.” you exclaim as you look out the window as you’re both seated at the restaurant. The two of you were directly next to a window, the city view right before you both. Snapping pictures, the two of you chat about anything and enjoy each other’s company. As you laugh at one of Jay’s dad jokes a waiter comes to take your orders. Jay takes charge and begins ordering for you both. She takes notes before looking at you both and asking, “And would you guys like any desserts after? We have many items popular among couples.” she states, prepared to write down an order. “Can we get the small couple sundae?” he asks to which the waiter nods and takes her leave. Blushing slightly at the couple's comment, you ignore it. Getting an idea you stand up, “I’ll be right back I’m going to use the restroom.” you tell him before going to find it. On your way though you make sure to find the woman who was serving your table. “Excuse me?” you ask and catch her attention. After talking to her, you had handed her a ring that you purchased earlier. A matching ring to the one on your pinky finger that Jay commented on earlier. You had purchased a matching one for him as a way to thank him and as a reminder of the friendship you share. Later when she served dessert, she would give the ring to him on the sundae bowl. 

With the camera on the corner of the table, it was able to have the both of you in frame with the view out the window in the back. The two of you had just finished eating and were waiting for dessert. “Wow, that was so good. I’m stuffed too.” you state, rubbing your stomach lightly over the flannel as you shift slightly in your seat. “Do you have enough energy to go sightseeing?” he asks, genuinely wanting to make sure it was something you wanted to do. “Oh yeah, of course I do. I slept enough to be out all night” you say, smirking at both him and the camera, giving a playful pout after asking, “Are you too tired?”. He chuckles, shaking his head at you before noticing the waitress coming with the dessert, “Oh the ice cream is coming.” he says, moving some of the plates out of the way. Sitting up you smile at the waitress who sends you a wink as she sets down the sundae, making sure that on his side a ring would be visible after he grabbed a spoon. “Enjoy!” she giggles, walking away and tends to other tables. Grabbing the spoon on your side you patiently wait to see him find the ring you take a small scoop of the ice cream to your mouth. Seeing him grab his spoon you see his brows furrow. He glances at the waitress for a moment before looking at you, “Y/n… I don’t think this is our ice cream” he whispers to you. “Why?” I ask leaning in and whispering to match his actions. “There's a ring” he says, holding it to you secretly as he glances around the room. Instantly you burst out laughing, startling him for a moment as you try to catch your breath. Shaking your head you grab the ring as you hold it up to your own. “I got this for you earlier, it's a matching one.” you breathe out, wiping a tear from your eye from laughing too hard. Laughing he brings a hand to his face and rubs his neck in embarrassment before grabbing the ring and analyzing it. It's one similar to the one on your finger, but after looking even closer he sees an engraving. “Is this our initials?” he asks, pointing to the inside of the ring. “Yeah, mine has a set too.” I smile at him as I grab the ring and slide it onto his pinky finger. “Thank you, really.” he smiles shyly at the gift. “How's it look?” he questions as he starts posing with his hand on your face, attempting to look cool as he changes poses every couple of seconds. Laughing you shake your head as you very lightly kick his foot under the table as you try to laugh quietly. 

Going for a walk, the two of you were now on your way to the scenery Jay mentioned earlier. On your way you guys had actually ran into a couple of fans and took some pictures. Honestly you loved fans who gave you guys space and asked for permission to take photos and such, you were grateful for them and the support they gave you. Arriving at the place Jay had in mind, you were in awe. It was a field of flowers, and with the sun just beginning to set, it casted a beautiful ray over both the people and flowers. “Its beautiful…” you sigh out in awe at the sigh, causing him to smile. “Cmon lets take some pictures.” he motions you over as he holds his phone out to capture the view. Posing, the both of you capture photos together as well as of each other. Taking pictures as the sun set, your manager was recording some footage for your vlog. When the two of you were done, you all were heading back to the car. The chill of the night was setting and rather than walking all the way to the car, you convinced your manager to pick the two of you up at a park you passed. With Jay, the two of you occupy the empty park. He watches you ask you run up the playground and records you fooling around. “Jay, you can't leave me up here by myself!” you shout out as you mess with the equipment, hoping that he would join you. Grabbing your phone you put on some music to dance to as he climbs up the playground to reach you. Freestyling to the music, he joins you and the two of you enjoy the moment, laughing at each other's moves as you begin to play around. When a song with a prominent guitar sound plays he begins to strum the air and stop his foot, causing you to laugh widely, falling to your feet as you watch him travel around like that. He soon climbs off the structure and is wondering whether the camera caught the footage of you both. You make your way down the slide, however, somehow you end up flying off the side shouting to Jay for help. Quickly he turns around and you smack straight into him, sending the both of you to the ground though he fairly breaks your fall. With you on top of him he groans in slight pain, “Oh my god…oh my god! Please god help me!” he speaks to the sky as you roll off of him laughing at his reaction. 

In the car, the two of you were being driven back to your dorm room. Snoring softly, you passed out on Jay's shoulder while he tiredly scrolled on his phone, looking at the pictures the two of you took throughout the day. Yawning he sets his phone down and gazes at you sleeping on his shoulder before he relaxes and closes his eyes. Eventually, he too falls asleep and his head falls to rest on yours. Your manager glances into the mirror to look back at the two of you, noticing the silence before chuckling at the two of you sleeping. Stopped at a red light he snaps a quick picture, figuring that you would appreciate it later before he continues to drive you guys back home safely. 

Extra: 

“Yooo” Jake speaks to the members who are chilling in the living room and kitchen. “What?” Niki asks as he and Sunghoon look over at him. “Jay and Y/n were seen at some restaurant earlier and later at some photo spot.” he says, turning his phone to them at the pictures he found online. “Oh yeah, they’re filming a vlog today I’m pretty sure.” Sunno states, appearing behind Heesung and Niki as they scroll through the photos. “Wow, I wasn’t invited.” Jake pouts as he scrolls through the photos. The members laugh at his sulking, Niki beginning to tease him because of it. “Yoii, I think she did invite us.” Jungwon chimes in as he tries to remember the conversation. “Damn.” Jake chirps, if he remembered he would’ve said yes. Oh well, he’ll hang out with you some other time soon for sure knowing the last time you two hung out together was almost a month ago. 

Note: Hey everyone, I hope you're able to enjoy this one. Honestly, it ended up being longer than I expected. I wrote it pretty quickly and I didn't check for errors so I apologize if there are many. Let me know if you want more like this or other members! After this I may not update for a short while but I should be back to updating sometime in June. Thank you :)

[hugemilkshake]

Enjoy the milkshake! I’d love to write more stuff like this with less noticed characters from games like ob, witches castle and ToA

Dreams of a Dreamer

-platonic-

!Small TW! Memory erasing and slight spoilers for the A Dreamlike Winter Wonder

——————————————————

Dreams. Everyone had them, wether it be an aspiration or something that occurs to you in your sleep, we all have dreams.

You had many dreams, some you held close to you. But in the recent years you started to wonder and dream about an odd phenomenon…

When cookies woke of from nightmares and occasionally certain dreams, cookies will claim they have seen an abundance of golden powder.

You can attest for this, you’ve seen the golden powder trails plenty of times, but what did it mean? You started to call it the golden phenomenon.

You’ve talked to several cookies about this and most say the same thing. Golden powder trails that lead to them waking up or them having a dream go to a nightmare.

You almost gave up hope on trying to figure out what this dream was. But that would change. One night you had decided to get some sleep after spending several sleepless nights trying to figure out how this phenomenon worked.

—————————————

You opened your eyes, you saw something that wasn’t like your usual dreams… golden and silver orbs floated around, golden dust created pathways and pastel clouds practically coated the ground.

It was… dreamlike… It was just what you wanted to learn about!

You walked around, it was an odd feeling, the cool yet plush feeling of the clouds and the slight tingling feeling of the dust.

You spotted one of the orbs floated downwards towards you, you reached out to touch it, the glow of the orb shining brighter as your hand got closer

“Don’t touch that!” Right as you were about to make contact, a hand batted you away. You recoiled your hand in surprise.

You looked up and saw a cookie floating and clutching the golden orb away from you. They had a sleeping cap and a floaty cloak.

You wanted to say something before the cookie glared at you. “You shouldn’t be here! How did you get here?” The cookie leaned towards you, looking at you with a slightly judgmental glare

“I’m Y/N Cookie…” you said, you were in awe from this cookie. You quickly shook the awe away to question this cookie. “Better question is, who are you and what is this place?”

The cookie glared at you and let the orb they were holding float back up. “For your information, I am Dreamweaver Cookie and you are trespassing into MY dreamlight gallery”

You were intrigued. Was this who caused the golden phenomenon? If so… why? You needed to learn. You spent countless sleepless nights trying to learn about this, you weren’t going to waste this opportunity.

“What are these orbs?” You reached out to touch one before you changed your mind and recoiled away from it. Dreamweaver Cookie tilted their before responding.

“They are cookies dreams, I’m surprised you are actually curious about this.” They floated downwards and leaned closer to you

“You know… you dream quite a lot Y/N Cookie, it’s honestly impressive” they grin at you, it gave you an odd sense peace.

“So… are you the keeper of dreams?” “I’m something like that, but I’m more of a dream guide” they leaned back like they were resting on a couch, their arms behind their head.

“So let me get this straight… you, Dreamweaver Cookie are a keeper of dreams and or a dream guide, and these orbs are cookies dreams… does the golden powder aid you in guiding cookies in dreams” you said as you scooped up some of the shining powder and let it fall from your hands like sand

Dreamweaver Cookies eyes lit up as they practically zoomed over to you, bringing you two face to face again. “Yes! You got the basic concept pretty on point!”

You let out a soft laugh, you basically just solved the golden phenomenon, you were hyped! But you stomach dropped when you heard Dreamweaver Cookie speak again..

“It’s quite a shame that I can’t allow you to remember any of this… it would’ve been nice to have someone to talk to about my work” they said with a casual sigh

“…what do you mean..?” “I can’t have you blabbering about this! It could have some very serious consequences if cookies found out about this it would surely cause havoc, and I can’t allow that to happen now can I? But don’t worry! It won’t hurt a bit”

Dreamweaver Cookie reached out to touch your forehead but you swatted their hand away, causing Dreamweaver to recoil.

“No! I can’t let you take this away from me! I spent too long trying to learn about this and I won’t let all that wasted time go waste!” You cried out. You were desperate to keep your memories, you worked to hard to lose it all.

Dreamweaver looked at you before sighing and gently grabbing your wrists, they had an understanding yet slightly annoyed look on their face.

“I told you that this could cause issues if I let you remember this, but hey, I’ll erase any memories even close to this, so you won’t even know you tried to learn about this!”

You started to feel drowsy, your mind becoming blurry. You didn’t want to forget, you didn’t want to forget, You didn’t want to forget, You didn’t want to forget, YOU DIDNT WANT TO FORGET!-

You woke up. What did you dream about? You can’t remember, but you felt refreshed after days of sleepless nights. Maybe you would go see some friends today, you can’t remember the last time you saw them.

[coraline-jones353]

I'd Love to Dance with You

If you're going to reblog give me credit!

Prompt: Soulmate Au (You see each other in your dreams)

Pairing: Alex Walter x reader (girl)

Summary: After Jackie moved in with the Walters she really missed her best friend Evangeline. After hearing from Katherine that Jackie is having a hard time adjusting she thinks it's a good idea to pay her best friend a visit.

Warnings: angst, there will be a part 2 if anyone wants it!

Jackie had just finished talking to Evangeline and she knew she already missed her. She sighs as she goes back to living her new life and forgetting about her old.

She goes downstairs to see Katherine talking to Cole about his grades but as she comes in Katherine puts on a smile and seemingly forgets about the entire issue.

Jackie waves at the pair as she walks out the door, thinking a jog would do good for her busy mind.

But what she doesn't know is that the fight between Cole and Katherine was just a way to get her out of the house so they could continue planning.

They could tell that she was missing her old life. Katherine after overhearing a conversation of the two girls where Evie said she wished she could come to visit came up with a plan to make that happen. She will arrive tomorrow after school and stay for 2 months to help cheer up Jackie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can't wait to go see Jackie. I think as I pack the last of my bags for the trip. It had been paid for by Richard who wanted to help lift his nieces spirits. I was now on my way to the airport hoping Jackie wouldn't try to call me again and ruin the surprise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie's school day has been so long. I had to just sit in her room and wait for her to get home, of course with the occasional asking if I wanted anything and me being polite, said yes to just about anything I wasn't allergic to.

I start to hear multiple footsteps so I know it is time to hide. Thank goodness for the fact that Jackie isn't one to hit you because you surprised her because this will surely make her jump.

As she walks in I hear her drop her bag on the floor and plop down on her bed in a huff. She seems tired or frustrated, I don't really know I hate trying to guess emotions.

I quickly and quietly open the closet door and plop on the bed next to her, "So what's got you all in a huff?" I say jokingly as I watch her jaw drop in shock. She quickly just pulls me into her embrace and I fear she won't ever let go. I just hold her while rubbing her back to soothe her.

After our beautiful reunion she walks me downstairs to meet the Brady bunch. I am terrible at names so I try to remember features or anything different about them. I categorized them by personality or something that made them stand out. Cole: arrogant, flirty, asshole. Lee: Skater boy. Issac: Lover boy. Danny: Actor. Andrew: musician. Parker: the only girl. Benny: the youngest. Will: The oldest/about to be married. Jordan: Why won't he stop filming me?!?!!?

Also why is their family so big!??! How am I supposed to remember all these names.

There was one other kid though. He came in late apologizing for his mistake and saying he didn't know he wouldn't make it in time for dinner. As we make eye contact I look at him shocked. Jackie has been telling me about her love triangle between Alex and Cole and now seeing him and noticing who he was I was freaking out.

Alex just sat down and kept staring at me and Jackie while I tried to avoid his eyes.

That night as I was brushing my teeth in the downstairs bathroom Alex came up behind me. I knew what he wanted to discuss but I just couldn't.

I turn to look at him after putting my tooth brush away and he just stays there staring at me. "I don't know what to say." I look at him puzzled that he decided that those would be the first words he says to his soulmate.

"I've imagined this moment; when I met you for so long. But I don't know how to proceed now that I know who you are. You and Jackie have a thing going on, i'm here to help her not make it worse."

Sincerely, Coraline Jones 🐈‍⬛

[imtrashraccoon]

Runs in but trips over my own paws, scattering some papers everywhere

So... I have a new thing that has been taking over my brain... Not sure if I'll end up doing all of the prompts and I know I won't have time to do them all on time, but I want to try!

I decided to take a similar approach to the fic I wrote from the last prompt list I did, Have Some Empathy, Dear. So, rather than write for Classic Papyrus all month, I'm going to split the prompts up among the four Papyri I have created. Some I haven't expanded on much or barely written anything in general, so this is exciting for me! First up, my Underfell Papyrus - Scar!

Thanks to @starlikeswomen for the awesome prompt list! (Let me know if you don't want to be constantly tagged for these...) (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ

Edit: I changed the title of the fic as I decided to only do the first seven prompts and I'm also finishing this outside of October.

Next Chapter

Chapter 1: I Guess We're Roommates??

Word Count: 1,884

It was a warm day today but rather than finish unpacking your apartment, you decided to go outside and get some sunshine. You were between projects anyways so it's not like your clients would get upset if you took a break. After grabbing your phone and credit card, you locked the front door behind you and set out to explore the city. Maybe you'd even try out a new restaurant for lunch if you encountered anything interesting.

It seemed like everyone was out and about today, either enjoying the warm weather like you or just going about their business. You didn't live anywhere particularly fancy, but there were plenty of new businesses in the area and your street had become a popular hang out spot for young people. It gave you some hope that you could start a new life here and make some new friends.

The sun was so bright that you almost wished you had remembered to grab your sunglasses but there wasn't anything you could do about it now since you didn't want to go all the way back home. For now, you kept your head down so you wouldn't have to squint constantly, at least some of the taller buildings occasionally blocked the sunlight.

A bus pulled up to the sidewalk up ahead and half a dozen people disembarked. On instinct, you moved towards the buildings so they could easily move past you, but in doing so, you noticed a very tall skeleton in the middle of the crowd. He seemed rather out of place but instead of asking for help, anyone who got too close received a harsh glare.

Despite Monsters being on the surface for quite some time now, they were still a rare sight since they tended to keep to themselves. The general public seemed to like them but you knew there were still many Humans who not-so-secretly disliked them. It just made sense for Monsters to stick together in a world that was still brand new to them.

You waited until most of the crowd had dispersed before attempting to approach the skeleton. He was dressed sharply, and thanks to his sharp teeth, that seemed to be a good word to describe him. Maybe his clothes were a bit too warm for the current weather though.

He had on a bright red scarf, a classy tan trenchcoat, dark slacks, and well-polished leather shoes. He was also wearing dark leather gloves, making his skull the only visible part of him. The most distinguishing features about him were the two jagged cracks that passed through his left eye socket and his scarlet eyelights that seemed to boil with barely concealed frustration.

Just as you were debating if you should bother talking to him or not, he seemed to notice your presence and turned sharply towards you. For a moment, you got the distinct impression that he was evaluating your appearance but he broke eye contact as soon as the thought occurred to you.

"Are you alright?" you asked carefully.

He stiffened and shot a glare at you. "Of Course I Am," he growled in response.

You weren't that surprised by his harsh tone but a part of you wondered if you should just excuse yourself and continue on your way. "I just wondered because I'm new to the city and I know the feeling of being lost quite well," you commented. "If I may ask, do you need help getting somewhere?"

His expression softened ever so slightly but his earlier frustration continued to hold on stubbornly. "No, I Am Not Trying To Go Anywhere," he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow but before you could say anything else, he let out a huff and crossed his arms. "But, If You Do Not Mind, What City Is This?"

You hadn't been expecting that question at all but you managed to keep a poker face rather than betray your bewilderment. "We're in Mountsburg."

His bonebrows furrowed and he propped his chin up in one of his hands in a thoughtful manner. After a moment he huffed again and turned back to you. "I... I Have No Idea Where I Am," he confessed.

You blinked in surprise and looked around but no one seemed to be paying attention to the two of you. So, you moved a bit closer to the skeleton before responding, "I can try helping if you want?"

He nodded, albeit hesitantly, and finally allowed himself to relax some.

Even though you had to basically crane your neck to look up at his easily seven foot frame, you smiled and introduced yourself before asking for his name in return.

He opened his mouth to respond before apparently thinking better of whatever he was going to say. "Scar. You May Call Me Scar," he answered.

A part of you wondered why he'd been reluctant to tell you his name but you decided not to pry for now. You were a complete stranger and he was in a bit of a tough situation after all.

"Would you like to go somewhere so we can talk? I was planning on getting some lunch anyways if you want to join me?"

"That Is A Good Idea," Scar started to say slowly. "Are There Any Good Monster Owned Places Around Here?"

You shrugged, "I don't know but we can find one."

After searching through some local review websites for a few minutes, you settled on one that was nearby with reasonable prices. It turned out to be a little hole in the wall place but on first impressions, it seemed clean at least. Other than Scar giving you the occasional odd look while you were looking for the restaurant, he had no complaints so you decided to give it a chance.

He picked a table in the far corner of the dining room and you noticed he chose to sit with his back to the wall, as if he didn't like the idea of not knowing who might walk in the door. After ordering, he leaned a bit closer to you, resting his arms on the table as he did so.

"I Am Not Sure Why I Am Here," he started to say in a low voice. "But A Small Skeleton With A Large Paintbrush Told Me To Find Someone With The Same Name As You. The Next Thing I Knew, I Was Here And Well, You Know The Rest."

"You just appeared here?"

Scar thought for a moment before nodding. "That Is The Best Way I Can Describe It."

"Can I ask where you're from then?" you asked.

"I Live Near A Place Called 'Surface Home'." When you have him a curious look, he added in slightly exasperated tone, "Our King Is Very Bad At Naming Things..."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Considering everyone calls the East side of the city 'Monster Town', I'm not that surprised."

"Wait, Humans And Monsters Live Close Together?"

"Most live here in the city but I know some don't like living in the shadow of the mountain, which makes sense."

Scar nodded quietly.

"You know, I could try looking up your town or city on my phone. Maybe that could help you figure out where you are?" you suggested.

He only shrugged in response, although you did catch a glimpse of a curious glint in his eyelights but it vanished almost immediately.

Try as you might, you couldn't find anywhere that was called "Surface Home" or even any other instance of the former Monster King naming another Monster settlement. When you tried asking Scar about himself or anything else that might give you an idea of where he was from, he seemed to grow a bit uncomfortable, so you changed the subject and tried to make casual conversation instead.

You learned that he liked animals and owned a small hobby farm with his brother outside of their town. He used to be in the Royal Guard back in the Underground as well, which is how he got the two scars. You got the impression that while he acted tough, he really just wanted to be left alone, which was something you understood quite well.

Interestingly, you caught him closely studying you while you searched for his town on your phone. He attempted to play it off when he realized that you'd noticed his staring by complimenting the burgundy highlights in your hair. Then, the waiter returned with your orders so you brushed it off for now.

While eating, you noticed how he kept looking around at the other patrons. It was casual, as if he was only curious about what they were wearing or the occasional bits of conversation you could overhear. However, you began to notice that he was actually surveying the room for potential threats. When you asked if he was alright, he seemed a bit startled but gave you a gruff nod.

He insisted on paying separately when the bill came around and you noticed that he paid in Gold. It occurred to you that he could have requested a Monster restaurant for this specific reason but you supposed it could've also been for the food and familiarity.

When you stepped outside again, you turned to Scar. "Do you have any social media? Or maybe a phone number I can use to get in touch with you?"

He cocked his skull and gave you a confused look. "No? I Do Not Know What That Is..."

Well that put a spanner in the works. You should've guessed that he wasn't the type to care about what other people were doing online. That left you wondering what he would do next since he was alone in a strange city with no way of finding his way home. This led you to offer something that you normally wouldn't have if he was anyone else.

"You could crash at my apartment for a while until we figure out how to get you home."

He physically balked at the very suggestion. "No. You Do Not Need To Put Yourself Out On My Account."

"You were supposed to find me, right?" you pressed. "Maybe together we can find out why, but for now, I'd sleep a lot easier knowing that you have a roof over your head."

He frowned and looked away. "I Suppose You Are Right..." he muttered. "But I Do Not Want To Be A Burden..."

"Nevermind that," you huffed and planted your hands on your hips. "I've lived with roommates plenty of times and I doubt you'd be half as difficult to live with as some of them were."

Something about what you said got him to laugh. Maybe it was your tone of voice or maybe it was the sight of your much smaller frame glaring up at him like an annoyed chinchilla, either way he couldn't stop the smile that threatened to overtake his usual sneer. His laugh was very distinct, almost comical, like a truely maniacal villian, except he was a well-dressed skeleton who apparently hated the idea of being indebted to anyone.

"Nyah! Fine! If You Are Going To Be So Stubborn, I Accept Your Offer, Human," he huffed, although he still had a mildly amused look in his scarlet eyelights.

And so began the most interesting period of your life to date.