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dawnwriterimagines · 1 month ago

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Rewriting Part 5 of Traitors Among Us

CLEAR SKIES (A Rewrite)

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x PLATONIC!FEM!READER Rewrite of PART 5 of Traitors Among Us

Traitors Among Us Masterlist

Summary: With your resignation approved, Price discovers you've resigned. You head back to begin to pack your life away from Task Force 141, running into those who've betrayed you.

Author Note: Soooo, I decided to rewrite Clear Skies: part 5 of Traitors Among Us because...I didn't like it as much lol, and it wasn't received as nicely as the other parts. It's pretty much completely different lol. So, here I am rewriting this part! Don't worry, the multiple endings of Traitors Among Us will be releasing very soon...

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Silence filled the air in the Chief Officer’s office, thick with tension. Captain John Price stood rigid, arms crossed, eyes locked on Laswell as she calmly sipped from her tea, her lips set in an almost casual line. He’d expected a straightforward debrief, not this.

“You did what?” Price’s voice was low, disbelieving. His brow furrowed, the anger creeping in like a slow burn.

Having arrived at the administrative building, delivering his mission reports and making his way into Laswell's office. Captain John Price wasn't expecting to receive the surprising news so casually that the woman in front of him had signed off on your resignation, without so much as consulting with him, your Captain.

"I gave her what she wanted, John," Laswell rolled her eyes, sitting in her seat. "I let her go. She was never about to meet with you, and I won't let a soldier like that leave, under my supervision, without some type of severance," she speaks, casually, tapping her spoon of tea along the rim of a porcelain mug. "I do apologize, I was actually preparing a better way to tell you this. Time got away from me, I suppose." Although, Laswell says so unapologetically as she takes her first sip with a hum.

Price blinked, caught off guard by the detached nature of her words. He shook his head slowly, still processing.

"Severance?" Price gritted. "She didn't lose her place on the force, Laswell. She's on temporary leave for recovery not discharged--I would've never--"

"Oh, stop it, John," Sweeping away a few locks of hair, Laswell sits back in her chair. "Even if, would it matter? The girl's petrified of you, if she saw you she might actually kill you," she can't help but release a humored hum. "Willing to turn down her pension, her insurance, just to resign in peace.

She would've never come to you, and you were foolish enough to think she'd stay," she laughs this time at the absurdity of it. "She wanted an out," she takes another sip, shrugging. "I gave it to her." She then slides a few papers her way, preparing to continue her paperwork, interrupted for the second time today.

Slamming a hand over the stack of papers, Price can't contain the expression twisting his face, his anger, his grief. "Let her what?! You stripped her of her title, does she know that? There is no lawful resignation without my signature, what've you done?"

"Well, you are in need of a Demolition Operative now, I will say," she hummed, tapping the spoon against the rim of her mug, her voice annoyingly casual. "I already have someone in mind, luckily for you."

"Operative Gray is an integral part of this Task Force, it's not up to you how I handle my team anywhere outside of our missions, Laswell," Price hardly held his tone.

“Funny, John,” Laswell mused, not looking up, her voice dripping with dry amusement. “I seem to remember you handling a certain... situation under my orders.” Her eyes met his now, sharp and calculating. "Just fine."

Price’s jaw tightened, and the old guilt gnawed at him. “The worst mistake I’ve made on the force.” His voice was quiet but raw.

Laswell’s smile didn’t fade a bit. “No, John,” she said softly, her tone almost teasing now. “Your mistake is thinking you have any authority here that I don’t already have.”

Price froze for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. He reached for the papers on the desk, his hand curling into a fist before he let them go. Laswell slid the stack back across the desk with a single, deliberate motion, then stood up.

As she passed him, her shoulder brushed against his, and he stiffened, barely holding himself together.

“Oh, John,” she said, almost too sweetly. “The military is engrained in all of us. In your blood. In hers. Don’t worry,” she hummed, tapping the edge of a file. “She’ll be back. They always come back. In one way or another.”

"Well..." Laswell shrugs, calmly. "Just never to Task Force 141," she turns back to Captain Price, dismissed him with a wave, leaning back in her chair., slipping a file from her desk. "Not like that wasn't the original plan before our informant came clean, hm?"

Wary, grieving eyes drift away from the Station Chief, chest tight. "Well what about Gray?" Price swallows. "I can't allow her to leave without everything she deserves from her service, I won't."

"Christ, John, you take the fun out of everything nowadays." Laswell’s smirk faded into something more calculating, more serious, before rolling her eyes. "We'll hold off on that for now," before Price can interject, she holds up a new folder, stamped a harsh red CLASSIFIED, it glares up at him. "You and your team have other matters to discuss."

Price hesitated, brows furrowed. He took the folder, the tension in his muscles still tight. He opened it quickly, scanning the document with a sharp eye. His face darkened as he read, the information weighing a heavy burden, but nothing he could say was undeserved.

Lips pressing tight together, John Price presses down into the folder hard, creasing the papers and clenching his jaw. Fuck.

---

The sliding doors open automatically, the lobby going quiet at the sight of your sopping wet figure stumbling through the entrance. Dropping your hands from over your head, you pause to stare down those who held eye contact too comfortably, quickly their stares dropped.

Entering the residential building, it's nearly midnight, the mess halls still quite lively, soldiers prepping for their next mission or staying guard in the halls. Your boots squeak with every step unwarrantedly, trailing a puddle as you shuffle your way down the hallway, face flushed cold from the rain.

The hall seems much too long suddenly, the wet squeak along the marble floor, the damp cling of your clothes to your skin, the uncomfortable twist of your brace around your legs, the pruning of your fingers. You were ready to just lock yourself away in your room, pack and never see even the silhouette of this place ever again.

Rushing to the elevator, ignoring the whispers, the burning eyes on the back of your head, you rub your clothed arms to warm yourself up, soaked to the bone. Stealing a jacket from one of the racks before leaving the building, it wasn't as insulated as you'd hoped but it was better than nothing, or Kyle's pity wear.

Pressing the upper arrow, you wait for it to light up.

It doesn't.

So you press it again. This time it does glow, finally.

...But, no opening.

You wait a few seconds, then check the electronic number above.

First Floor.

You press the arrow again. Waiting for the doors to open.

Clearing your throat, you press down on the down arrow this time. Just open up.

Nothing again.

Motherfucker...

A few heads turn while you press the buttons on the elevator one too many times, taking a breath as you continue to tap on the buttons along the panel. You didn't care as long as it would just open. Up. Down. Up. Up. Up. Down. Fucking somewhere, just open the fuck UP!

"Just fuckin open..." you grit out, attempting to keep your nerves down. For all you knew, Simon or Price, or Kyle or Johnny, could've seen you enter the building, they could be walking up to you right now. The very thought had you anxiously holding down on the elevator buttons, contemplating the stairs but walking was already a hassle with your brace. "Open. Open, open, open!"

"Open!" Your fist coming up in frustration to slam into the panel, the metal creaks and bends back but it doesn't make the elevator go any faster. It does hurt your hand though.

Taking your now sore fingers into your grip, pressing into your knuckles, your nostrils flare and you take a breath. You don't dare turn around as you hear the chuckle behind you, you can feel your teeth already grinding to nubs.

"So, you're the reason this thing breaks down every week, huh?" sliding up next to you, a soldier, lieutenant by the single silver bar on the shoulder of his uniform, his kevlar unhooked and new, prepping for departure. "Ya know, you can't make it go any faster that way?" nodding to the dented panel, before flashing a charmed smile your way.

Narrowed eyes link with his. "Excuse me?"

For a moment, all he can do is stare back, words lost on his tongue as he darts between your eyes, mesmerized. His smile doesn't drop even as he clear his throat, "I just mean, you'll hurt your...hand."

"Oh, will I? I didn't know that," you wonder, sarcastically. Before, hitting the panel again, a louder bang sounds in the hallway, causing attention. "Maybe I'm doing it wrong." A screw comes loose with a cling, your jaw twitching at the sound as he only huffs a humored sound.

"Yeah," he chuckles briefly as the metal falls with a klunk. "You're quite the mechanic."

"Can I help you, lieutenant?"

"Just a stranger, looking out for another, that's all," the lieutenant says simply.

"Ok, Stranger," you speak, this time turning your back as the elevator finally beeps as it descends to the ground floor. You direct your chin back to where he came. "You can leave now."

He feigned disappointment. "Ouch," he sported a playful grin. "I thought we were getting along pretty well."

"Well I'm sure you've got a flight to catch, don't let a stranger make you late."

"The only stranger I've met worth being late for," he says, genuinely.

"Oh!" Surprised, you glance away from him. "Subtle," you take a step back, uncomfortable with the space between the both of you now. You lean against the edge of the elevator door, it dings again, your knee brace wasn't helping your leg pain at all.

His charming smile fades, brows lifting as he quickly backs off, reading the lines. "Oh, sorry, I-"

"No," you clear your throat, hearing the ding of the elevator behind you. "No, no I'm just..." your hand goes to your ring finger, you used to fidget with your engagement ring all the time, there used to be a tan line imprinting it along your skin, now that same finger was scarred up to the nail. "I'm just not the flirting type right now." Your hand tensing up, balling into a fist, you'd nearly forgotten...

"Ah," He notices, clearing his throat, embarrassed at himself. "You're with someone."

You wanted to scoff at that, not anymore.

"No," Your knuckles cracked. "Just uninterested." Your hand falls to your side. The years you'd spent loving Simon, adoring him, fighting beside him, all that time...it was painful to know it would all just lead up to this. But, it was easier now to just feel nothing because it ended such a way.

The elevator opens and the both of you looks back towards it.

The lieutenant's eyes flicker back to you. "M' sorry," your brows lift in question. "About your...lover."

"He's not dead," you say.

His lips press together, thoughtfully, before nodding once. "Sounds like quite the guy."

"No idea," you scoff, an understatement indeed.

After a moment of silence, the elevator door, with a squeak, beginning to close. The persistent stranger puts his hand out before you have to, fully stopping the closing door before it can seal, taking a large step to catch it.

You froze as he unintentionally corners you, for the moment take him in, analyzing every detail as you'd always done as a soldier. His hair and clothes damp from the rain, cheeks flushed for a reason you weren't sure of.

He reminded you terrifyingly of Simon. Though the two had to be quite different in all capacities besides ranking and muscle definition.

He's tall, wide broad shoulders, a scar curved through his left brow to his temple, green wide eyes and he smelled...warm, was the only way you could describe it. You're sure his skin would feel as so.

You were quite cold from the rain, though you've been freezing ever since that day and you've never gotten past the phantom cold, eager to be warm again.

Not once in this disturbing, cold and humiliating event had you ever felt a moment of comfort. Of warm, loving comfort. A single embrace would destroy your every resolve. Not a minute, not a second, not a breath of warmth.

Your eyes flicker up, surprised to meet his staring back, seemingly taking you in the same way. His hand leaving the opening elevator door, to rest above the wall above your head. He was close enough for you to feel the leather of his kevlar against the back of your hand, for once your first thought wasn't to push someone away. His gaze lingers on the fresh scar beneath your eye, the tinted pink fading in the white of it.

"You shouldn't do that," you breathe.

There's nothing good here left for you anymore.

You're no longer a soldier.

"Do what?" he asked.

No longer apart of the Task Force, no longer apart of any of this.

And the scars you'd be left with just for being here...

Bringing your hand up to your face, running over the raised, ruined skin, your jaw tightening and your lips pressing together. You shift to the side, your hand finding the handle grip along the sides of the elevator doors.

He notices, straightening, awkwardly. Swallowing thickly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..." he squeezes his fist, as if berating himself internally. "--that's quite the memorabilia." Again his expression twists at his own question, fist squeezing, that was a dumb thing to ask.

"It is," you grazed the tender flesh of your scars. "Isn't it."

"I'm sure you've got quite the story."

Lips pressing together hard, fingers curling into your palm as if your own scars had burned you.

"Um..." going into detail meant a lot of things you didn't want to confront right now, pressing the button for the elevator again, it opens this time. "I appreciate the conversation, stranger. But, you should go."

"I'm sorry-" he realized he'd touched unsavory ground, voice lowered with regret. "I didn't mean..."

"It's fine," you swallowed thickly, taking a breath. "It was nice to meet you truly."

He follows you to the divide of the open elevator as you step in and though the divide, turning to see his face, desperate for a glimpse of yours.

Your stranger speaks soundly. "Wes."

His name you realized, you press your lips together, thoughtfully as he stares at you, not expecting anything in return, seeming peaceful with you just...knowing. The elevator doors slipping closed. You say nothing else, but you can't help but look at him differently, humming softly. You supposed he was no longer a stranger.

"Ok..." you managed a meaningful smile that struggled to begin. "Wes, then."

You could see the relief in the drop of his shoulders.

As the metal doors ding in preparation to close, you catch a glimpse of someone beyond your persistent stranger, as he turns to leave.

An approaching figure that enters the building, exiting the rain with heavy steps, dragging his feet along the marble, a black mask painted white along the curves of his mouth and nose, a skull. Stalking the halls like the ghost he preferred to be, Simon.

And he haunts you as so.

You hardly notice as the doors begin to close, a sinking feeling in your stomach erupting as you made eye contact with Simon Riley.

His slow, deliberate steps become nonexistent, he's instantly rooted to the floor, you were sure he'd even stopped breathing.

Though you felt your blood run cold, your chest squeezing violently with ache, and a rage in your soul that begged you to claw his fucking eyes out and rip out his heart like he'd done to you weeks ago, you didn't freeze.

No, instead your hand comes out, taking the closing end of the elevator door. It pauses with an electronic strain of its gears beneath your resistance, while you stare unblinkingly at your Ghost. And it opens again with a light ding.

Simon's eyes widen a fraction, he straightens noticeably, hopefully. His hand coming up, pulling at his mask, the skulls creasing down to reveal himself to you, but he'd remain as so...your ghost.

"(Y/n)..." you can hear the whisper of your name from his lips, but you've turned from him now.

Stepping forward and off the divide of the elevator, you take Wes by the arm, pulling him back around to you, his eyes are wide in surprise, innocent enough to have never expected more from your encounter and unable to find the nerve to speak smoothly now that you're making a move.

"Sorry..." you breathe to him, before reaching up and pressing your mouth to his.

It's not a messy kiss.

It's hardly a kiss.

But, it gets the message across.

You had loved Simon, completely and utterly. There was no punch or kick you could ever throw at Simon that could convey the collapse of those feelings.

So this, was the next best thing.

As Wes melts into your lips for the brief moment of surprise intimacy of a stranger, you cup the back of his neck, as you've done many times for Simon. Eyes opening to gaze back to your ghost, and as you do, you're not surprised to see him practically looming over the two of you.

He's a mess of himself. A fraction of the man he was before. A ghost of himself.

But, he'd always been a ghost to be feared.

As Wes's hand climbs up to grip at your hair, you retreat back, tucking your hair back and taking a breath.

Your guiltless eyes blink up to Wes, "You should go."

Hardly given a moment to recuperate, still reorganizing the thoughts you'd taken and filled him with all in the seconds you'd spared him with. He, rightfully confused, breathes. "What?"

"She said, you should go."

As Simon speaks, voice heavy with emotion, anger and resentment but most of all hurt, PAIN. Only then do your lungs fill with air again, untainted by the weight of your fears of him, of broken dreams and memories your defiled love.

"My dead lover's risen again," you speak, sarcastically. Staring down the hollow-eyed man, "A ghost."

The metal doors close with a light thud.

And so, maybe you had no fear of him anymore. Maybe you were tired of being frightened. Whatever it was had more guts than you had the energy to have in the last few weeks.

Because the next thing you know, you're shoving past Wes, blood red in the tint of your vision, your fingers expertly popping the gun out of his holster and you take your aim at Simon.

He doesn't flinch.

Neither do you.

Your finger is steady on the trigger. And you pull.

---

The subtle light of the safe house cast shadows across the room, the usual tension of Task Force 141 momentarily replaced by an air of anticipation. Everyone knew but you. Ghost stood slightly apart from the group, his mask hiding the myriad of emotions that flickered beneath. He’d planned this moment carefully and yet being trapped in a safe house during the night of the dinner he'd planned for you both wasn't apart of it. It was still meant to be tonight.

Your lover stared at you in the reflection of the window, catching your beautiful eyes in the glass, they sparkle and his bones feel liquid and he nearly loses his grip on the velvet box. What better time could there be?

Ghost turned to you, pulling his mask away, revealing Simon Riley, garnering your attention with a surprised stare, "What's...goin' on?"

His deep voice steady yet laced with a rare vulnerability. “Wherever you are, I wanna be,” he took a step. "Wherever you go, whether you like it or not, I'm goin' too."

"Stalker," you quipped, though your voice could barely reach a whisper as you stared at the tiny box in his hand, watching as he came closer.

He cracked a smile, but he continued. "Everywhere you are, anywhere you want to be, if you'll let me, since you're right...I just can't stay away," he teased, watching as you short circuit as he approaches steadfast. "...and if you want me, as you'll have me...I wanna be everywhere you are."

The team fell silent, the weight of the moment sinking in. Price raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk dancing on his lips, while Johnny tried to stifle a grin, Kyle cursed quietly shifting in anticipation. "The best thing I've ever held onto in this life is you. It will always be you."

Simon takes the closing steps to you, watching you closely, the two of you sharing the same overwhelming expression, though yours freer in its willingness to express. He was being serious. This was really happening. "I can't imagine taking on this life of chaos without you."

With a small, almost hesitant movement, Simon revealed the velvet box. The flicker of metal caught the light as he produced a small box, his hands surprisingly unsteady. His eyes momentarily flickering downwards before gathering the nerve to look you in the eye again. “We’ve been through hell, we're in the aftermath of it now, another glimpse not far behind, but there’s no one I'll ever know, that I’d rather have by my side.” He dropped to one knee, the rest of the team exchanging glances, a mix of excitement and surprise evident in their expressions. "No one but you."

As Simon kneels before you, your heart races, disbelief clear on your face, brows furrowing into each other, watering as you look to him, all your feelings flooding your senses. His words echo in your mind, and the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you.

“Marry me...” His voice was firm, yet you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he waited with baited breath, his shoulders halting all movement as he wouldn't take a single breath until your answer. "I'll choose you. I'll choose you every time..." The room held its breath, the only sound the quiet rustle of fabric as the team leaned in slightly, as if to witness a moment that transcended their usual world of warfare. "Marry me..." his voice is a breath against your skin.

You feel your heart race with feelings that seared itself into your soul, a moment that would never leave you, your vision blurred with tears. "Simon..." the world narrowing down to Simon and the hope in his gaze. The silence was palpable, a shared moment of vulnerability among seasoned soldiers. Finally, you nodded, emotions swirling as a smile broke across your face. “Yes,” you laughed with a sob, nodding as you wiped your face. "Of course, Simon. Yes!"

Simon rose, slipping the ring onto your finger as cheers erupted from the team. The laughter and joyful roars of Task Force 141, your family, fade into the background as you focus solely on Simon, the man you love.

Johnny clapped Simon on the back, Price grinned widely, laughing heartily in glee, and Kyle let out a whoop of approval. In that moment, amidst the chaos of their lives, there was a rare glimpse of hope and happiness—a reminder of what they were truly fighting for.

---

The clouds, still held hostage by the night, moved almost imperceptibly through the midnight air, the rain having stopped by now and the stars taking action to be seen beyond.

You breathe evenly, stroking the broken skin of your knuckles, smearing the blood that still leaked through and picking at the dried specks of it along your nails.

Heavy hangs the air as you sit in your silence, nothing but the light scrapes of your nails along your own skin. Then, a heavy padding of footsteps outside the door, your eyes drawing to the movement as a shadow pulls along the flooring of the lighting beneath the doorway, the door clicks open.

A round-faced, army suited man, your attorney, enters the room, behind him two men standing at attention, stomping his dark boots down onto the old wood eager to be noticed, lifting a document to read. "Sergeant (L/N), due to potential endangerment of yourself and your fellow man, you are to be supervised continuously throughout the night until the remainder of your scheduled departure from central Orloz Military Base.

From there, as requested, all contact will be terminated, all personal and packaged requests, terminated. All inquiries, all personal and otherwise familial advises for continued contact, terminated. Due to the nature of your injuries and the unprecedented circumstances brought upon by the events of June 23rd 2023, you've been pardoned from additional..."

What use is there listening to more?

Leaning your head against the cool glass, you let yourself fall blissfully unaware of his voice, drowning in the sea of your own mind.

You stare down at the scars enveloping your hands, your wrists, still raw and sensitive even now. Along your ring finger was the imprint of your engagement ring, it would fade with time, but nothing else would.

You felt so blind, so dumb for thinking this family was ever real, that they were anymore than colleagues, soldiers of war. An idiot for believing in Ghost, believing that he was more than the soldier you'd fought beside for a decade.

Who would've thought things would've turned out this way.

The weight of everything—the heartbreak, the disappointments—were pressing down on your chest like a block of cement.

Letting the absent, warm tears fall down your cheeks, soaking into the dampness of your shirt.

You press your palms into your thighs, trying to ground yourself, but the overwhelming feeling spiraled further, tightening your throat till it hurt.

---

Simon's face is burned red with scratches, blood smeared along his face. His hand holds tight to your wrist, the gun having long fallen from your grip, the entryway still smoking from a missed fire.

Your teeth pull at Simon's exposed skin, biting down on the skin of his wrist until you can feel it snap away from the bone, resistance failing the muscles.

With a pained groan, Simon pushes you back into the metal doors of the elevator, "Stop this, (Y/n)!" he hissed at you, as he locks you into his grip, cornering you as soldiers come forward at the commotion.

"You promised," came your voice, your mouth filled with blood, a chunk of his flesh from your mouth as he shoves your neck into the metal divider, keeping you as still as possible. "You promised you'd choose me..."

Simon's twisted expression unravels as he hears his own vowed words from your tortured lips, seeing glimpses of the woman he's always loved in the livid, scorned woman he'd left behind in that cell.

"(Y/n)..." he began, his grip loosening.

Clicks of rifles and heavy booted steps filled the dormitory, interrupting him. "HANDS UP!"

---

"...if you're in understanding of these terms, we can proceed as stated."

"...Yeah," you whispered. "Understood."

"Thank you for your service, Sergeant (L/N)," he saluted shortly, before picking his beret off the table and walking out of the room. "Your assistance to the dormitories will be available shortly."

So, when he leaves, claiming to be back to escort you back to your quarters, you sit there. You sat there for hours. Or maybe it just felt like it. Either way, it didn't matter.

This time tomorrow you'd be off base, no longer a soldier but a citizen of no one, with no one to turn to and disowned by your family...

What was there to look forward to now?

Your hand comes up, tracing the water lines running down the glass, the ray of light from the street lamps that burn into the room, stinging at your eyes and lighting up the evening.

A streak of red follows your stained fingers.

Dried blood melting off your skin and running down the glass, falling slow.

Nothing to look forward to at all...

Multiple Endings coming soon. The end of Traitors Among Us... STAY TUNED

#call of duty x reader #cod angst #traitors among us series #simon riley angst x reader #ghost angst #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley angst #traitors among us #call of duty angst #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #rewrite

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angelsrcute · 8 months ago

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⌗ THEM FUCKING THEIR DARLING AT A MOVIE THEATER. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Alhaitham, Ayato, Tartaglia + Sub!F!Reader ➜ cws: Exhibitionism (Movie theatre), fingering(Tartaglia + Alhaitham), riding(Ayato), clit stimulation, raw + unprotected sex, almost getting caught, praising, dirty talk(Tartaglia). ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭ — For the event! + I'm sorry this took so long!! but I hope you'll like it.（×_×；） req by @vieannee

⌗ ALHAITHAM would shove his fingers in your cunt, your face all red with embarrassment as you try to bite back moans. Well, he really isn't a fan of romance movies, it's just not his cup of tea but he'd do anything for his darling. While watching the movie, he didn't expect a sex scene but he suddenly got turned on by the noises. So now he's here, a hand on your mouth so that the others can't hear his sweet little lover. He's definitely enjoying this too! Two of his fingers stretching your cunt out while his other hand rubs slow circles on your puffy clit, I mean, if someone really paid any attention, they'd hear the sinful noises coming from the back. Guess they're really enjoying the movie, huh?

“C’mon now, you wouldn't want others to know what we're doing here, do you? I'll fuck you properly when we get back home, so be a good girl for now.”

⌗ AYATO would book a whole ass theatre for you, having you sit on his lap while he plays with your hair, the sex scene in the movie caught him off guard, he got a boner too! Well, no one is here anyway, you riding him wouldn't hurt anyone, the sound of skin slapping filling up the room along with your mewls. His hands guiding your body up and down, groaning at how good your cunt feels, praising you. The guard coming inside the theatre and asking if everything's alright made him stop his movements, hands covering your mouth as he acts normal. His voice so calm, like he wasn't just fucking you.

“Ah yes, do not mind us, everything's fine, my lover feels a bit under the weather, I'm taking care of her, you see.”

⌗ TARTAGLIA would just tease you throughout the movie, commenting on how cute you look while blushing during some romantic scenes. He didn't know this movie had a sex scene! Well now he's blushing as his eyes flicker to you. Gloved hands covering your mouth to cover your noises as he scissors your cunt open with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. Whispering dirty words to your ear.

“Hey is it me or the sounds are too loud, like it's happening in this room” “Dunno man, I don't hear anything, you're thinking too much.”

Poor dudes, they didn't know there was a live show going on behind them, only if they turned their heads!

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

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sai-int · 19 days ago

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"I guess no one ever taught you how to be a real man."

cw. : none - gaz x reader

the ice in your glass has started to melt, watering down the drink you’ve barely touched. you don’t know why you’re still sitting here—maybe out of spite, maybe because you’re not ready to go home and admit to yourself that you’ve been stood up. again.

it’s always the same. boys who don’t have the decency to be honest, who think half-hearted effort counts as charm. you’re so sick of them. sick of waiting on men who don’t know how to act like men.

laughter erupts from the corner of the bar, a group of rowdy guys in fatigues and plain tees, the type that carry themselves like they own the room. military, most likely. you ignore them, focusing instead on the slow circles your fingertip traces around the rim of your glass.

“rough night?”

the voice is smooth, laced with amusement but not mocking. you glance up as a man slides onto the barstool beside you with understated confidence. dark skin, sharp brown eyes, a smirk that looks far too good on his face.

you exhale, shaking your head. “something like that.” you hesitate before adding, “stood up.”

he huffs, a quiet noise of annoyance, shaking his head as he settles into the seat beside you. “dickhead.” the way he says it, all matter-of-fact—makes you huff out a laugh, even as a bitter edge lingers in your chest.

a beat passes before he says, “did you know penguins propose to their mates with a pebble?”

you blink at him, caught off guard. “what?”

he lifts his hands like he’s swearing an oath. “swear it. find the perfect pebble, drop it at their feet—bam. lifelong commitment.”

it pulls a laugh from you, sudden and genuine, shaking your head as you finally take a sip of your drink. “that easy, huh?”

he grins, then. “well, i’m not proposing, but—” he reaches into his pocket, fishing around before pulling something out and setting it on the table between you. a tiny pebble, the kind that would get stuck in the grooves of your shoe. his voice is softer now, but sure. “i’d like to take you out proper, if you’d have me.”

you stare at the pebble, then at him. he doesn’t waver, just watches you with that easy confidence, like he already knows the answer. you nod. just once, but it’s enough.

looks like you’ve got yourself real man.

mlist | lyrics mlist

#♱ angel’s writing #everyone say thank you beabadoobee #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz #gaz call of duty #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick headcanon #kyle gaz x reader

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littlelamy · 3 months ago

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Reader request with Rafe. Maybe she breaks down sobbing in the middle of sex and he has no idea why, thinking he hurt her. Her reasons aren’t bad. As someone that has only been with one person personally, and he was such a selfish uncaring lover, I legit think I would start sobbing in bed if someone was loving and caring towards me and treating me like the most precious thing. Love your writing <3

a/n: thank you so much for requesting...hope you like it!!⭐️

the room was drenched in golden light, the low hum of the bedside lamp the only sound as rafe’s hands roamed your body. his palms were warm against your skin, calloused but soft in their touch, tracing a path down your sides like he was discovering you for the first time. his lips followed, pressing kisses that started at your neck and trailed lower, his breath hot and deliberate.

“you okay?” he murmured, the deep rasp of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. his fingers hooked under the hem of your shirt, brushing the bare skin of your stomach as he paused to look at you.

your lips parted, and though you nodded, the tightness in your throat betrayed you. “yeah,” you whispered. “i’m okay.”

rafe studied your face, his brow furrowing slightly before he leaned down to kiss you again. it wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate, but slow, sensual, the kind of kiss that set your skin alight. his tongue slid against yours, coaxing a soft moan from your lips as his hand moved lower, slipping between your legs.

“god, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and desire. his fingers stroked you gently, building heat that spread through your entire body, but there was nothing hurried about the way he moved. "my baby, so perfect." he almost purred, everything about him was deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of this—every second of you.

you arched into his touch, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he pressed his body closer to yours. his hips rocked against you, his movements careful but firm, and the pressure sent sparks of pleasure through your veins.

but that was the moment it all became too much.

your chest tightened, your breath hitching as the weight of everything crashed down at once. the tenderness, the patience, the care—it was everything you’d never known, everything you thought you didn’t deserve. and suddenly, the tears came.

a sob tore from your throat, raw and unbidden, cutting through the heated silence like a knife.

rafe froze instantly, his body going rigid above you as his eyes snapped to your face. “y/n?” his voice was sharp with concern, his hands pulling back like he was afraid he’d hurt you. “what—did i—did i hurt you?”

you shook your head, tears spilling freely now as you pressed a trembling hand to your face. “no,” you managed, your voice cracking. “no, you didn’t hurt me. i’m sorry, i—”

“hey, hey,” he interrupted, his hands hovering near your arms but not quite touching. his voice softened, though there was still a note of panic in it. “don’t apologize. just tell me what’s wrong. did i do something? did i push too far?”

you shook your head again, harder this time, your tears soaking into the pillow beneath you. “no, rafe. it’s not you. it’s… it’s me.”

his brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face as he searched your eyes for answers. “what do you mean? you’re crying, baby. i don’t know what to do.”

the raw vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you. you forced yourself to take a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you reached up to touch his face. “i’m crying because you’re too good to me,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard. “what?”

“you’re too good to me,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve only ever been with one person before, and he… he didn’t care about me. not really. it was always about him—what he wanted, what he could take. i got used to that, and now… now you’re here, and you’re so kind and patient, and i don’t know how to handle it.”

his expression shifted then, his confusion melting into something softer, though there was an edge of anger in his jaw—anger directed not at you but at the person who had made you feel this way.

“y/n,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “that guy? he didn’t deserve you. not for a second. and i don’t care how long it takes, i’ll spend every moment proving to you that you’re worth everything. do you hear me?”

tears spilled down your cheeks again, but this time they weren’t born of pain. his words wrapped around you like a balm, soothing wounds you hadn’t realized were still bleeding.

“i don’t want to scare you off,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“scare me off?” rafe repeated, his tone incredulous. he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “y/n, you couldn’t scare me off if you tried. i just… i want you to feel safe with me. always.”

“i do,” you said quickly, your voice breaking with urgency. “i do feel safe. that’s why i’m crying, rafe. because i’ve never felt this before. no one’s ever… treated me like this before.”

his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there as he exhaled deeply. “then we’ll go slow,” he murmured against your skin. “as slow as you need. or we can stop altogether. whatever you want, baby.”

“no,” you said firmly, your hands curling around his wrists to keep him close. “i don’t want to stop. i just… needed to tell you. needed you to know why i’m like this.”

his eyes searched yours for a long moment before he nodded, his lips curving into the softest smile. “okay,” he said simply. “but promise me, if you ever need to stop, you’ll tell me. no matter what.”

“i promise,” you whispered, your voice steadier now.

he kissed you again, but this time it was different. there was still care in the way his lips moved against yours, but now there was something deeper, something hungrier. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as his hips rolled forward, the friction sending a gasp spilling from your lips.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed wet kisses to your skin. his body moved against yours in slow, deliberate thrusts, his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough.

and this time, you let yourself feel it. you let yourself drown in the way he touched you, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. because for the first time in a long time, you believed that maybe—just maybe—you were.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

#rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron blurb #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron obx #outer banks rafe

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erwinsvow · 8 months ago

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hii shea idk if someone has already made this type of request if that's the case please ignore me but i can't stop thinking about shy!reader absolutely cock drunk asking for the first time rafe to fuck her raw and the question caught him so off guard that he felt feral and dizzy, his composure slipping away just wanting to please his sweet girl<3

hi baby omg no i don't have any reqs like this here it is hope i did it justice <33

rafe was teasing you today.

after more than an hour of back and forth at whatever party you two had gone to for the evening—and only because rafe wanted to sell and your friends had already promised they'd be there—you were more than ready to go home.

except rafe hadn't taken you home yet. instead you'd been all around the house—on rafe's lap in the living room to start. leaning in to your boyfriend's ear, you know he can tell how desperate you're getting.

you don't do well with denial anymore—rafe had spoiled you too much for that.

"can't we go now?" the words are whispered to rafe, and you rest your head on his shoulder, blinking up at him while you wait for a response. one of his hands leaves the armstand of the sofa and grips your exposed thigh, skirt riding up a little too much.

"it's early. hold out a little longer. can you do that for me?"

you think your eyes are going to roll all the way back. the answer is yes, of course, you can do that for him. you would do anything for him. you just don't want.

following that, you accompanied rafe to the other side of the house where a whole swarm of people were chasing their next high. though you should really stand next to him, you just can't find it in you today, instead staying his back, peering out every now and then like shy children do.

it's all worth it, because moments later rafe takes you upstairs, murmuring something about how you're being a good girl for holding out. there's an empty bedroom that you think is the perfect place to spend the next hour.

rafe's talking to you—though you're so deliriously horny you can't really hear him. you nod and stare up, agreeing to whatever your boyfriend wants to do, just wishing he would hurry up and do something already, when the door opens.

you're not naked, though if they had barged in a few minutes later, you might have been. and normally you think your face would be burning, that you might die of embarrassment at someone catching you like this.

instead you're just mad.

it's the owner of the house—which makes sense, since your boyfriend has brought you up to the master. he's got a girl of his own on his arm, and you grind your teeth getting up with rafe, furious and impatient now.

"at least knock next time!" you yell when you shuffle through, ignoring splutters of it's my house!

you think rafe is going to ask you what you want to do next—but he doesn't. your boyfriend, like always, knows what you need before you can even know it sometimes. you follow rafe back to his truck, ready for, at the very least, some peace and quiet.

when you finally get up to rafe's room, the buzz of the party is wearing off a bit. your feet hurt from your heels and you can't believe you yelled at someone. lost in your own thoughts, you don't even process rafe sitting down next to you, until he takes your feet into his lap, undoing the strap of your shoes for you.

it's instant—one touch from him is enough to set your skin on fire.

"oh," you say, at the sudden realization you might finally be getting what you want. you stare at where rafe is holding your ankle in place, shoes on the ground now. "thank you."

"s'nothing, kid. get on the bed." eagerly, you comply.

in the vain hope that rafe was as impatient as you are—you thought he would just fuck you already. but it seems not, with the slow way he kisses up and down your neck, down to your tits and your stomach.

you find it a lot easier to ask him for things now—a new dress, dessert, money for your nails—but it seems impossible to ask him for this, so you opt for enjoying it and staying silent.

but even then—rafe always knows when something is wrong. you're practically vibrating from anticipation—you had wanted your boyfriend to fuck you hours ago on that stupid couch from that stupid house. it seems your body was only now realize how long you'd been clenching your thighs, biting your cheek and ignoring the tense knot in your stomach.

a few touches from rafe was enough to have you practically melting—staring up and still not saying anything.

"y'okay, kid?" he asks, and you really don't know how to answer. "s'okay. you're getting what you want."

you can do this. you're patient—you've always been patient.

"can you-please, just-" alright, maybe not. "can you please just fuck me raw, please, please, just fuck me-"

of course, rafe's not stupid. he could tell you've been on edge all night, he just hadn't known why. he stares down at you, all flushed, hot skin and heavy breaths, looking up at him. he knows whatever reaction he gives you will stay on your mind, and though he can try as hard as he wants, you are impossible to say no to.

"jesus. s'that really what you want?" you nod eagerly. "can't regret this later, baby. once we do that, it's-it's serious. what if i knock you up, huh?"

rafe watches you take in the words, facing twisting in understand.

"please knock me up."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

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cjlouwho · 1 month ago

Text

Trust

Yesterday, you guys voted on this poll and decided that Buck and Tommy should have an argument over trust. Here is that argument:

“You don't trust me.”

“Evan, I-”

“I can't believe it,” he huffed, shaking his head. “After all this time y- you don't trust me.”

“I never said that, Evan. You're not listening to me.”

“I told you it was a mistake. Told you he misheard me and once I pushed him away he was embarrassed and very apologetic about it.”

“I still shouldn't have heard it from him!” Tommy exclaimed, his tone causing Buck to step back in surprise. In their three years together he'd only heard Tommy raise his voice one other time, and that was when he was kicking his own dad out of their home.

“I told you, Tommy, I didn't see a real reason to tell you. Vinny's new to your station, he came to the bar late, and he didn't know we were together. We were talking about dung beetles and then he asked if he could kiss me. I said 'I've got a boyfriend' but he thought I said-”

“'If you'll be my boyfriend', I know the story, Evan. I heard it from Vinny while we were in the sky! Nearly crashed the damn bird!” Tommy ran a hand over his face. “You really didn't think, for a second, that maybe you should have told me about this?”

“N- Not really. It didn't mean anything. I want- wanted to protect you.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed bitterly. “Protect me? Why do I need protection, Evan? I'm not a delicate flower. If you would have told me, I wouldn't have been caught off guard and then grounded for the rest of my shift. I could have talked to Vinny about it right as work started so he didn't go five hours thinking I was playing a psychological game with him!”

“I don't really know what you want from me, Tommy! I told you I was trying to do the right thing. I didn't cheat on you, it was a misunderstanding. You're blowing everything out of proportion and making i- it seem like I just hide stuff from you.”

“Can you blame me?!” Tommy asked. “You literally just said you wanted to protect me! So yeah, I do wonder what else you've hidden from me while using protection as an excuse.”

“There's nothing!” Buck yelled, tossing his hands up in the air. “God, this is going nowhere!”

“You're right about that.” Tommy walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up his keys.

“W- Wait, where are you-”

“I'm just going to the garage, Evan. I need a minute to think.”

“We made a promise to never walk away from an argument, Tommy!”

“You broke that promise the night we made it!” Tommy reminded him, walking down the hall and slamming the garage door shut behind him.

*****

When Tommy walked back into the house he was overwhelmed by the scent of sweetness coming from the kitchen. He entered the room slowly.

“You're baking,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

Buck shrugged. Didn't even bother to look up from the measuring cup he was filling with flour. “Force of habit.”

“I didn't leave, Evan,” Tommy said, upset to know just how nervous Buck had to be to resort to baking. Even all these years later, baking was reserved for when he felt like his world was falling apart. “I just needed a minute.”

“Two hours,” Buck corrected. “You were out there for two hours. I heard your truck start and I didn't...” His voice trailed off as he set the nearly empty container of flour on the counter.

“I was working on my engine,” Tommy explained. “Truck's been s-”

“Slow to start this week,” Buck finished with a nod. “I remember.”

Tommy walked around the counter to get closer to Buck. He placed a gentle finger under his chin and guided Buck to look up at him. “It was never about me not trusting you, Evan,” he explained. “I know you didn't want him to kiss you; he told me that. I just wish I would've heard it from you. I was caught off guard. You're my partner. I should have heard it from you.”

Buck's eyes glistened as he stared at Tommy. Tommy could see he'd been crying. It broke his heart. “I know,” he conceded. “I should have told you. I just- I didn't want work to be awkward.”

“Oh, it's definitely awkward,” Tommy replied, which got a brief smile out of Buck. It felt like a victory.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Buck said. His voice was quiet, still a bit unsure. “And I'm not hiding things from you.”

“I know,” Tommy assured him with a nod. “I know. I overreacted. I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too.”

They leaned in for a kiss at the same time, Buck closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief.

When Tommy pulled away, he kept Buck close, wrapping his arms around his waist. “It's a shame you can never be around anyone at the 217 ever again though,” he informed Buck playfully.

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, there was Lucy, me, and then Vinny. It's like you're a drug to that station. Everyone wants a bite of Evan.”

“Hate to break it to them,” Buck replied, his arms draping over Tommy's shoulders, “but you're the only one who gets a bite of Evan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Not even Franks?”

“Isn't he the oldest firefighter in the LAFD?”

“Hes is,” Tommy confirmed. He pressed a chaste kiss to Buck's lips. “I know you like them older.”

“Hm,” Buck hummed, pretending to think it over. “No, sorry. You're stuck with me.”

Tommy smiled. “Good. I love you, Evan.”

“I love you too.”

After one more kiss, they let each other go. “So, the baking can be done now?” Tommy asked.

“Baking can be done. I was gonna make those caramel crunch cookies you love so much though.”

Tommy perked up at that. “Should we fight about something else so you'll still make them?”

Buck snorted out a laugh. “Get a new container of sugar from the pantry,” he ordered. “You can help.”

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #911

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filthygalli · 24 days ago

Text

When I Met You: Chapter 3 "Iced Americano"

Fem!Reader x Neighbor! Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: MDNI!Masturbation, Cursing, A little cliffhanger for the pt.2 (Coming this week also), Short chapter (ik, sorry), Reader thinking that In-Ho is not just a Literature Professor, Not proof read.

Word Count: 1142

Author's Note: This chapter is quite short, I have my whole idea for the chapter 4, I'll 'tease' you guys a bit here, but I feel like it's some terrible writing? Anyways let me know what you think, and thank you so much for y'all's support! 🥹🖤

You knocked on In-Ho's door to pick up Yu-Jin so In-Ho wouldn't bother to drop Yu-Jin at your house. You knocked patiently, hearing the doorknob twist as the door swung open, his gaze turning soft when he saw you, “Y/n? ” You smiled. “Good morning, In-Ho, I'm here to pick up Yu-Jin. So you won't take your time dropping him off at my house.” You looked up at him, scanning his reaction. Was he expecting you to come early this morning? To be honest, he got caught off guard; he thought you were some random person who wanted to ruin his morning, but it turns out it's a person who always makes his morning perfect. He paused for a moment before answering, scanning your eyes carefully, “Good morning to you too, Y/n.” He gave you a slight smile, which made you sigh in relief a little, ‘He's not in a bad mood,’ you thought, “Are you going to take him for a walk? ” He asked, leaning on the door frame, your breath hitched a little, “I—yeah—I was thinking of grabbing a coffee on the way there too…” In-Ho noticed your reaction to what he just did; he smirked a little, not too obvious for you to notice, “Hmm, I see…” You both looked at each other, “You know what…” He paused for a moment to rethink his thought, “What is it? ” You slightly tilted your head, curious about what he was going to say. “I’ll drive you and Yu-Jin to the coffee shop near the campus, We can both grab a coffee there before I go to work,” He looked at you for a moment before smiling, “It’s the least I could do.” He added, You admired his smile, the smile that you’ve never seen before, Maybe Yu-Jin sees it everytime, But you don’t, well, you do now, and his smile is one of the gorgeous smiles you’ve ever seen, “Y/n?” He said snapping you back to reality, You chuckled awkwardly as you nodded, “I’d love that.” You smiled up at him brightly, He opened the door just enough for you to get in, He leaned in a little as he said “Wait inside.” as if he’s telling you a secret that not even anyone else should hear. You went inside his home immediately greeted by Yu-Jin who lays down on his back asking for belly rubs. You chuckled in excitement as you crouched down to rub Yu-Jin’s belly. “He likes you too much,” He said looking down at you, “Hmm?” You looked up at him giving him a puppy eyes looks, ‘Fuck,’ he thought as he looks away for a moment before saying, “It’s nothing, make yourself comfortable, Y/n.” he said before going upstairs, You nodded as you picked up Yu-Jin bringing him on In-Ho’s leather chair. “Did you miss me, Yu-Jin?” You asked the cat who’s sitting on the arm of the leather chair, The cat meowed, “I missed you too–!” You chuckled, “I missed him too…” You muttered as you thought of In-Ho. You started to think of In-Ho, You thought of what’s his favorite food, Book, Movies? Does he even listen to songs? If yes, What kind and what’s his favorite songs? You thought of the things that what might Thee Hwang In-Ho like, You don’t really know him that well, You just know that he’s a literature professor, He owns a cat which is Yu-Jin, That he’s a stubborn and grumpy person, ‘Oh–he also likes black coffee’ you muttered to yourself, ‘Hmm..well he smells like one though..’ You chuckled to yourself remembering the time where you first met Yu-Jin and your second encounter with In-Ho. He smelled like a black coffee. He seems like an elegant person based on how he looks and style himself, the way his house looks so simple yet it screams ‘Old money’ type of thing–And let’s not forget his car, That Black Mercedes, God–Is he really a literature professor or a mafia? Because no one would buy such an expensive car by just teaching, ‘Maybe he has other work?’ You thought, ‘’What would it be though…?’’ You said to yourself as you chuckled to yourself for thinking such things.

In-Ho went to his room as he closed the door behind him. He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He can’t take it anymore. The way you looked at him with that pouty look of yours sends him over the edge. You’ve been inside his head for a while—how calm and angelic your voice sounds, how soft your skin, how light your touches are, how you look so innocent and dumb when you’re with him… He wants you badly. He spent so many sleepless nights thinking about you, about your every encounter with him, how he purposely does things that he would think would make you go crazy, and he’s right. He feels his cock getting hard by the thoughts of you, He can’t do this right now, Not when you’re just down stairs, “Fuck, Not now In-Ho..” he growled, His body betrayed him, he groans at the feeling of his aching cock throbbing inside his pants, “Fuck.” He muttered as he unzipped his pants and pulls out his cock, Pre-cum beaded on the tip of his cock, he spat on his palm and used it as a lube to palm his aching cock, He groans from the feeling, he started to pump his cock up and down, God he wish that you’re the one who’s doing this to him, He started to sped up his pace, “Ah- fu-” He moaned as he thinks about you, How perfect your body is, How soft your voice is, god knows how will you sound like if he fucks you on his leather chair, Back pressed against his bare chest as he whisper sweet nothings to your ears, He bets to himself that your soft lips would look good wrapped around his cock, He feels himself getting closer his hands are getting tired–He wants to cum badly, wanting to release his cum that he’s been keeping for days since he thought of you, “Fuck–Y/n–!” He bit his lip, not wanting you to hear his moans, his moans that were dedicated to you. He came as he groaned from the feeling, the feeling of releasing days of tension between him and you; he whimpered as he pumped the last drop of his cum. As cum drips from his hand, staining his black pants, he pants as he groans in annoyance. He feels disgusted by what he just did. Jerking himself by the thought of you, he just wishes that you didn’t hear him moaning your name like a broken record as he chased his high a while ago. It’ll be a long day for him, and well for you too.

Author's Note:

Happy 200 followers!!! Thank you so much for the support🥹 I made this account I think 2 years ago if I'm not mistaken—i just wanted to read fan fictions to try it, eventually, writing caught my interest because I got so inspired by other writers to write my own depending on my own imagination, and I'm glad I started writing because writing is one of my gifts nowwww! Thank you so much everyone!🥹🖤

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thedensworld · 5 months ago

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Work Stressed | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: comedy, fluff

Summary: Working with your best friend is stressful and Jeonghan will tell you why.

"Where is she?!" Jeonghan slammed his fist onto the desk, eyes burning with frustration as he stared at the article on his screen. One of his artists, you, was now being implicated in a vandalism case in Hongdae. Your photo—blurry but unmistakable—was plastered all over the page, showing you running with a group of culprits. How had this happened?

"She's on her way here, sir," his secretary said quietly, sensing his fury.

Jeonghan massaged his temples, trying to quell the growing headache. Just yesterday, a paparazzi had caught you napping on a park bench, forcing him to pay off a tabloid to kill the story—especially with your drama currently on air. Now this? Vandalism in Hongdae? The timing couldn't have been worse.

"She's going to be the death of me," he muttered under his breath.

Right on cue, you strolled into his office, a bright smile on your face as if nothing had happened. "Hello! I got you coffee," you chirped, holding up a cup like it was some kind of peace offering.

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. He pointed sharply to the couch. "Sit."

You blinked but complied, casually dropping onto the plush seat as if you were here for a friendly chat. Jeonghan motioned for everyone to leave the room—your manager, his secretary, all of them filed out without a word, leaving the two of you alone.

"What's it this time?" you asked, unfazed, already knowing you were the problem child of the company. You leaned back, taking a slow sip of your coffee, like this was just another Tuesday.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he slammed the printed article down in front of you. “Read.”

You glanced at it briefly, then back up at him with a shrug. "I was just jogging," you said, completely nonchalant.

Jeonghan’s eyes flashed with disbelief. "Jogging?! How is my PR team supposed to spin that? Do you think the public is going to believe you were just out for a jog when you're literally pictured running from the scene with a gang of vandals?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes as if he were the one being unreasonable. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not part of any gang. It’s just a coincidence. Tell them that.”

Jeonghan gritted his teeth, trying to contain his frustration. "It’s not that simple, darling. You don’t just explain away an article like this. Your reputation is on the line."

Leaning forward, you met his gaze, unbothered. “Doesn’t matter what I say. I’m always going to be the villain anyway, even when I’m telling the truth.”

That made him pause. As much as it frustrated him, you had a point. You were always honest—maybe tood honest—but no matter what you said, the media would find a way to twist it. They always did.

Jeonghan slumped back into his chair, exhaling heavily, his anger slowly deflating. "I'm sorry," he muttered, surprising even himself. "How are you, by the way? I heard you got injured during filming."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone. You nodded, pulling up your sleeve to reveal a deep scratch on your left arm. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a cut."

Jeonghan winced. "That’s going to leave a scar."

You smiled, unfazed. "Well, lucky for me, you’ve got plenty of money to fix that."

For the first time that morning, Jeonghan chuckled softly. "Yeah. You’re not wrong."

It had been 15 years since that fateful day in high school when Jeonghan accidentally kicked a soccer ball straight into your forehead. You had been the new kid in school, standing on the sidelines of the field, and Jeonghan's errant kick had made sure you were noticed. While you were clutching your head in pain, Jeonghan had rushed over, apologizing profusely. That was the beginning of your unlikely friendship.

At the time, you had just moved to Seoul for your acting debut, and Jeonghan, with his easygoing charm, quickly became your first friend in the new school. He was the only one who didn’t treat you differently because of your budding fame, and soon, the dynamic shifted from classmates to something more like colleagues. You were juggling school and early acting roles, while Jeonghan was focusing on his studies—first as a regular student, but with a growing interest in business.

"Hey," Jeonghan had said one day after school, leaning against the lockers with that confident grin of his. "I’m going to start a label in the future. Do you want to be my actor?"

You had laughed at the time, but without hesitation, you responded, "Sure."

It was a simple promise made between two teenagers who didn’t quite know what the future held. You didn’t expect it to come true, but years later, after Jeonghan graduated with a degree in business and you had built up a name for yourself in the industry, the promise came back.

"Remember when you said you’d be my actor?" Jeonghan had asked one evening over drinks, his tone light but his expression serious.

And just like that, the promise from high school had become reality. Jeonghan had become your manager—a great one, too. He knew how to navigate the industry, protect your image, and push you to take on more challenging roles as your career advanced. He wasn’t just your manager—he was someone who knew you, who had been there from the start.

But in recent years, things had gotten complicated. As your fame grew, so did the pressure. The roles weren’t easy anymore, and neither were the scandals. Jeonghan spent more time putting out fires, like today’s vandalism case, and less time just being your friend.

He watched you now, still sipping your coffee like nothing had happened. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, hidden behind that carefree exterior you always wore in public. And that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had pushed you too far.

Breaking the silence, Jeonghan leaned forward. "Do you ever think about... slowing down? Taking a break?"

You gave him a long, hard look, as if weighing the question carefully. "Are you suggesting I quit?" you asked, a small smirk playing on your lips, but there was an edge to your voice.

Jeonghan shook his head. "No, not quit. Just... rest. You've been running non-stop for years. You’ve earned a break."

You leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "And what would I do with a break? Stay home? Watch dramas I’m not in?"

"You could live," Jeonghan said softly, surprising even himself with how earnest he sounded. "You could live without the cameras, the articles, the public scrutiny—just for a little while."

You looked at him, searching his face for something. After a moment, you sighed. "Maybe. But I don't think the world would let me rest, even if I wanted to."

Jeonghan frowned but didn't argue. He knew you were probably right. You were too much of a public figure now. People always had their eyes on you, waiting for your next move, your next mistake.

"Still," Jeonghan said, "if you ever decide to take that break, I’ll be right here."

You smiled, genuinely this time. "Thanks. But we both know I'm not going anywhere just yet."

Jeonghan returned the smile, though there was a trace of sadness in it. "Yeah. I know."

Jeonghan was jolted awake by the shrill sound of the doorbell ringing incessantly. Groggily, he glanced at the clock—2 a.m. If this wasn’t something urgent, someone was getting fired. He dragged himself out of bed, confused and annoyed, and checked the intercom. His brows furrowed when he saw your face on the screen. Without hesitation, he buzzed you in.

Opening the door, he found you standing there, still dressed in full makeup, looking disheveled and slightly off-kilter. At first glance, you appeared drunk. Your new manager was standing awkwardly behind you, wearing a tight, apologetic smile.

"She insisted on coming here," your manager explained, his tone strained.

Jeonghan waved him off. "It’s okay, I’ll take it from here. You should go home and get some rest."

With a nod, the manager gratefully left, and Jeonghan turned his attention to you. He sighed, taking in your messy state. "Who did you get drunk with this time?" he asked, guiding you inside and sitting you down on the couch. He slipped off your jacket, his patience wearing thin.

But then you blinked, stretched out dramatically, and he noticed the telltale spark of mischief in your eyes. You weren't drunk at all—you were acting.

"I knew it!" Jeonghan groaned, throwing your jacket back at you as he slumped down on the opposite end of the couch. "What are you doing, disturbing my sleep at 2 a.m.? I have work tomorrow."

You giggled softly, bending down to untie your shoes. "Let me crash here for a few days," you said casually, propping your legs up on the couch as if it were already decided.

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Get up, I’m driving you home." He reached out to pull your arm, trying to get you back on your feet.

"No!" You resisted, clinging to the couch. "I don’t want to go home."

He crossed his arms, leaning back and studying you. "Did something happen?" His voice softened with concern.

You avoided his gaze, biting your lip as if debating whether to tell him. Finally, you mumbled, "I haven’t been home in a week. I’m scared... Let me stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room, and I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here."

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you mean, scared?" He grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back down when you tried to dash off to the guest room. "No, sit down and explain. What’s going on?"

You hesitated, your eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I think someone’s been in my house… for the past week."

Jeonghan’s frown deepened. "What? How do you know?"

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. There was a picture—of you, taken from inside your house. It was grainy, but clearly snapped from within the confines of your own home.

Jeonghan’s expression darkened as he studied the photo. "And you’re just telling me this now? Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head. "No, but... the last time I went there, I heard someone chasing me, and I fell down the stairs."

He immediately reached for your arm, rolling up the sleeve to reveal the injury. "So this wasn’t from shooting, was it?" You shook your head again, and his worry only grew.

Jeonghan cursed under his breath. "That’s dangerous. Why didn’t you call the police?"

"I panicked," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn’t know what to do. My new manager doesn’t even know... He tried to take me home tonight, but when I saw the lights were on, I freaked out and asked him to bring me here instead."

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could see how shaken you were, though you were trying to keep it together. "You shouldn’t have kept this to yourself."

"I didn’t want to cause more trouble," you muttered, biting your lip. "I already feel like I’ve been a mess lately..."

"Hey," Jeonghan interrupted, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, his voice firm yet reassuring. "That’s alright. You did the right thing by coming here."

You looked up at him, visibly relieved by his words, and he could see just how exhausted you were—mentally and physically. He stood up, grabbing his phone from the table.

"You’re sleeping in my room tonight," he said. "The guest room’s full of my work stuff right now, and I’m not letting you sleep alone when someone’s been in your house."

Before you could protest, Jeonghan was already dialing the security company and setting up arrangements to keep you safe. You sat there, watching him take control of the situation, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

"Thank you," you whispered, as Jeonghan hung up the phone and turned back to you.

He smiled softly, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "Get some rest. You’ll be safe here."

And for the first time in days, you actually believed it.

"I didn't know you could cook," Jeonghan remarked, stepping into his home, greeted by the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal. The sight of you casually moving around in his kitchen was something he never thought he’d witness. In his mind, you were always more of a 'princess treatment' kind of girl, not someone who could navigate a kitchen so confidently.

"I’ve lived alone since high school. Of course I know how to cook," you replied, brushing off the surprise in his voice. You ushered him to change out of his work clothes and join you for dinner.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan sat down at the table, taking the first bite of your meal. His eyes widened in genuine appreciation. "Thanks for the meal. This is really good."

You smiled at the compliment. As he ate, Jeonghan’s expression grew more serious. "The police are investigating the stalker case. They’ve already found a few leads, so we should have more answers soon. As for the vandalism incident, we’ve sued the media for spreading disinformation. Hopefully, that’ll keep them in check."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "I just don’t understand how anyone could believe I’d do something like that. Do I really seem like the kind of person who would join a vandalism gang?"

Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. "Not at all. They’re just looking for a story."

The two of you finished dinner, and Jeonghan insisted on doing the dishes while you moved to the living room, scrolling through the script your manager had sent over. It wasn’t long before Jeonghan joined you, handing you a can of beer.

"What’s this one about?" he asked, gesturing to the script in your hands.

"A memorable one-night stand that ends up with the female lead discovering it was her boss," you replied, taking a sip from your can.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Koreans really love their one-night stand stories. Almost every drama seems to start like that these days."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Yeah, but this one’s different. The boss—the male lead—has actually been in love with her since high school. I know, it's a bit unrealistic, but the character development is solid."

Jeonghan smiled, understanding now why you’d taken the role. "Is that why you accepted the part?"

You nodded. "That, and let’s be honest, there are so many new rookies in the industry now. I can’t afford to be picky." You laughed, but there was a hint of truth behind your words.

Jeonghan picked up the script and skimmed through it. "Let me help you with practice," he offered, settling in beside you. He took on the role of the male lead, reading his lines with a surprising amount of intensity.

"Just because I’m your boss, doesn’t mean I can’t love you," Jeonghan read, his voice low and serious. "I’m also human. I have feelings. And I’ve told you before, I’ve liked you since high school. That feeling... it never stopped. It’s only grown, Y/N."

You blinked, startled by the sound of your own name coming from him. "That’s my name," you pointed out, half-joking but also feeling the odd shift in the air.

Jeonghan quickly cleared his throat, flustered. "I—I meant to say, Mina... the character’s name." His face flushed as he tried to recover.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the tension building between you. Suddenly, the room felt too small, too intimate. You hastily grabbed the script from his hands. "Practice is over," you said, tossing it onto the coffee table.

The atmosphere was heavy, the lines between your characters and your real relationship beginning to blur. You stood up quickly, needing to break the awkwardness. "Do you want ice cream? Or dessert? Maybe I should order pizza?"

Jeonghan bit his lip, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had messed up, and he knew it. That one slip, saying your name instead of the character’s, had crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could uncross.

"Yeah, sure. Pizza sounds good," he muttered, watching you retreat to the kitchen, trying to put some distance between the moment that just passed. But the tension hung in the air, thick and undeniable. He wasn’t sure if either of you could pretend it hadn’t just happened.

"Are they following us?" Jeonghan's voice was tense, his eyes glancing at the rearview mirror every few seconds. You followed his gaze and immediately recognized the car tailing you both since you left the company.

"It's them," you whispered, dread settling in your chest. It was the stalker that had been eluding the police for weeks now, making your life a constant state of unease.

Jeonghan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "They must’ve been waiting for you," he muttered, a sharp edge to his tone as he pressed down on the accelerator, increasing the speed. His jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened as he kept glancing at you, noticing the panic on your face as you watched the car in the rearview mirror.

He let out a frustrated sigh before turning the car down an unexpected street. "Why are we turning left?" you asked, confusion lacing your voice.

Jeonghan shot you a determined look, the corner of his mouth curling slightly into a grin. "I'm giving them a little lesson," he said calmly, though there was a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Your stomach dropped. "No..." you began, shaking your head in protest. "This could be dangerous, Jeonghan."

He only smirked as he turned the car down a narrow, dark alleyway, taking sharp turns that would easily confuse the car behind. Within moments, Jeonghan had maneuvered them into a tight corner, effectively trapping the stalker's car.

The car came to a screeching halt, and you let out a deep sigh, anxiety still buzzing through your veins. "This isn’t a good idea..." you whispered, but Jeonghan was already out of the car, his movements swift and purposeful.

You barely registered where the bat came from, but suddenly, Jeonghan had it gripped in his hand as he approached the stalker’s vehicle. Without hesitation, he swung the bat at the car’s door, the sound of metal denting beneath his force echoing in the quiet alley.

"I said, get out, you motherfucker!" Jeonghan’s voice was cold, sharp enough to cut through the fear lingering in the air. You flinched at the sound, shocked by this side of him. He'd always been calm, composed, but tonight he was someone else entirely—fierce and protective.

The driver, a man, finally opened the door, trembling as he faced Jeonghan, who towered over him with a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Is this the guy who’s been following you, Y/n?" Jeonghan barked, his eyes flicking back to you for confirmation. You took a few steps forward, your breath catching in your throat as you recognized the man’s face, albeit obscured by the shadows. But you knew. It was him.

You nodded, pulling out your phone with trembling hands and dialing the police, your fingers moving on autopilot. Jeonghan didn’t wait. He grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground as he growled into his face, "If you ever come near her again, I swear to God—"

The man whimpered, too scared to even respond. Before anything more could happen, the flashing lights of the police illuminated the alleyway, casting long shadows as officers arrived on the scene. They quickly apprehended the stalker, securing him in handcuffs as you gave your statement to one of the officers.

As the police car drove away, Jeonghan stood there, still clutching the bat. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he turned back to you, the fierceness in his eyes softening into something more familiar, something more... him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice now low, filled with concern.

You nodded, still shaken but relieved. "Thank you, Jeonghan," you whispered, unsure of what else to say. He walked over to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his earlier anger dissipating into tenderness.

"Don’t worry," he said softly, "let's go home."

Despite everything that had happened recently, you refused to take a break. You continued cooperating with the ongoing investigation, all while managing to shoot your latest drama. With the media spotlight firmly fixed on your every move, you became the topic of discussion, whether it was for the stalking case, the vandalism rumors, or your work. It wasn't a surprise when some of your co-stars started showing subtle attitudes—jealousy or perhaps frustration, masked behind fake smiles.

One of them, a junior by two years, approached you between takes with a smug expression. She had once been part of the company before leaving two years ago. “Maybe you should give your company a break from all the scandals and trouble,” she said, her words dripping with passive aggression.

You didn’t miss a beat, flashing her a sharp grin. “Still worried about your ex who takes care of me better than you ever did?" you shot back, referencing Jeonghan, whom she had dated before leaving the company. Your words hit their mark, her face briefly betraying the sting before she turned and walked away.

Jeonghan’s words echoed in your mind: "Be bold. Don’t be nice to people who do you dirty." He had told you that during one of your darkest moments, when the pressure of rumors and whispers had almost broken you early in your career. Now, you carried that same attitude with you—while you were known as a bit scandalous, and people tried to paint you as a troublemaker, you had firm boundaries. And unlike some, you didn’t allow people to step over them. You had no problem telling them to back off, which often led to even more shade and misinformation thrown your way.

But no matter how hard they tried to tear you down, the public loved you. Your acting was brilliant, your roles brought to life in a way that others could only admire. And while you were often the target of rumors, at the end of the day, people couldn’t deny the fact that you were just a person trying to stay sane in the cutthroat world of entertainment.

“Good job, everyone!” the director called, signaling the end of the shoot. You thanked everyone on set as you wrapped up your work for the day. It was past 10 p.m., and exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Fortunately, today's shoot had been made more enjoyable by a surprise food truck sent by your former co-star, Jeon Wonwoo. The gesture had lifted the spirits of the entire crew.

As you gathered your things and bid goodbye to the team, you noticed a familiar figure walking toward you with a tired smile—Yoon Jeonghan.

“CEO Yoon!” people greeted him with respect as he approached, exchanging pleasantries with the crew. You overheard the director speaking with him.

“Are you here for Y/n?” the director asked, shaking hands with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan nodded, his expression warm but focused. “Yes, is the shoot finished?”

You quickly grabbed your bag and approached the two of them. “Thank you for today, director,” you said, bowing politely.

The director smiled, nodding in return. “You did a great job today. Have a good evening, Y/n. You too, CEO Yoon.”

As the director walked away, Jeonghan turned to you with a soft smile. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, grateful for his presence after such a long and draining day. Even after all these years, Jeonghan’s presence had a way of grounding you—reminding you that no matter how chaotic things got, you always had someone in your corner.

“Hyejin talked to me today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence as Jeonghan drove you home.

“Shin Hyejin?” Jeonghan asked, glancing at you briefly.

You nodded. “Yep, your ‘ex’ who loves pampering me.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s not an ex. We just met a few times back in the day.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shot him a playful look. “But she sure thought you two were dating.”

A heavy sigh escaped Jeonghan, followed by another chuckle. “I’m really sorry about that, then,” he said, amused at the absurdity of it all. “People see what they want to see, I guess.”

He changed the subject quickly, his voice light and teasing. “I noticed Jeon Wonwoo sent you a food truck today. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. “We’re just friends, Jeonghan.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he quipped, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “He’s a great person. Kind, thoughtful, and sweet... but you know my problem.”

Jeonghan’s teasing smile faded, replaced with quiet understanding as his hand moved to rest gently on yours. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said softly, referring to your struggle with avoidant attachment. “There’s no rush. No need to worry. You’ve been through a lot, and you get to take your time.”

You appreciated the warmth in his words and the fact that he always seemed to know how to calm your anxieties. While people like Wonwoo were kind, it was Jeonghan’s constant presence and unwavering support that had always grounded you. You didn’t need to explain yourself around him. He just got you.

As the car cruised through the quiet streets, you found yourself lost in thought, staring out the window while Jeonghan’s steady presence filled the space next to you. The city lights blurred by, and you suddenly wondered, When did this happen?

When had Jeonghan become such an integral part of your life? It wasn’t just that he was your manager; it was the way he was always there—at every high and low, quietly supporting you, guiding you through the mess of the industry. You didn’t know when it had shifted, but at some point, he had surrounded your life fully. Every big decision, every major step, Jeonghan had been there, solid as ever.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was focused on the road, his face calm and composed, just like always. But you couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and confusion. How had he managed to be so deeply woven into the fabric of your life without you even realizing it?

His dedication to his work was something that had always amazed you. He wasn’t just a manager who worked the hours and did the minimum; Jeonghan breathed the industry. His passion was palpable, the way he fought for his artists, the way he handled crises with a cool head and quick thinking. Even when things were overwhelming, he never seemed to waver.

You had always admired that about him. It was part of why you never allowed yourself to rest, why you kept pushing yourself to be better. You wanted to prove to him—and maybe to yourself—that you were as passionate as he was, that you could match his fire. Sometimes you felt like you were chasing that, trying to live up to the standard he set, even if it wore you out.

But tonight, sitting next to him in the quiet hum of the car, you found yourself questioning more than just your career.

Was that all it was? Admiration? Dedication to your work?

Or was there something else? A deeper reason why you felt this way whenever you were around him. Why his opinion of you mattered so much. Why, when he placed his hand on yours earlier, you felt a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a flutter of unease mixed with something you weren’t sure you wanted to name just yet. What am I feeling for him?

Jeonghan had always been your constant, but lately, that constant presence felt heavier. More significant. And the more you questioned it, the more confusing it became. You didn’t want to ruin things. Didn’t want to blur the lines between the professional and whatever this was growing between you. But could you keep pretending you didn’t feel it?

"Jeonghan?" you called softly, your voice almost uncertain.

He glanced at you, surprised by the tone in your voice. “Yeah?”

You hesitated. What am I supposed to say? The words were on the tip of your tongue, but instead, you forced a smile and shook your head.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, turning back to the window, your thoughts more tangled than ever.

Jeonghan didn’t press, but the question lingered in your mind long after the car ride was over.

Jeonghan shouldn’t have done that.

It was 9 a.m., and Jeonghan had his head buried in his hands at his desk, staring at the article that had just been published. Not just about you—but about both of you. His face might have been blurred in the pictures, but anyone with half a brain could tell it was him. The caption was vague, but the implications were clear: rumors of a secret relationship between you and him were already spreading like wildfire.

Why did I kiss her last night?

Jeonghan replayed the events over and over in his head, the regret gnawing at him like a bad headache. After driving you to your new place, the drive had been oddly quiet. Something had felt off, so he’d asked if everything was okay, checking on you a few times. You’d nodded, but your silence said otherwise.

When he’d parked and walked around to open the door for you, that’s when it happened.

“Jeonghan,” you’d called his name, standing in front of him with a look he couldn’t quite place. “I don’t like Wonwoo.”

Jeonghan had blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t sure what had prompted that, especially after teasing you about Wonwoo earlier. But what you said next stopped him cold.

“I think I like you.”

His breath had hitched. You... liked him? No, that couldn’t be right. After all these years? He could hardly believe it, and neither, it seemed, could you.

You quickly corrected yourself, shaking your head as if trying to sort through your own confusion. “No, I think it’s just admiration. But… I don’t know. Admiration can lead to liking someone, right? But I honestly don’t know.”

Jeonghan had stood frozen, staring into your eyes. He watched the way your expression shifted from uncertainty to something deeper, something vulnerable. And before he could stop himself, before he could think about the consequences, his gaze fell to your lips.

And he kissed you.

You weren’t drunk. Neither was he. You were both fully aware of what you were doing, yet Jeonghan still couldn’t fathom where he’d found the courage to close the gap between you after fifteen years of friendship. Why did you suddenly confess to him? Was it because you’d been living under his roof for the past few weeks? Had the proximity stirred something inside you?

Now, the aftermath was crashing down on him. He wasn’t just your friend—he was the CEO of a company with a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t afford to be entangled in a scandal like this, not with you at the center of it.

Jeonghan was snapped out of his thoughts by his secretary’s voice, pulling him back to reality.

“You can be honest with me, sir. Are you two dating?” she pressed, clearly curious. She was one of the few people who knew about the close bond between the two of you, and she had probably been speculating for a while.

Jeonghan sighed, avoiding the question. Instead, he asked, “Where is she?”

His voice softened instinctively when asking about you, something his secretary didn’t miss. She checked her phone, scrolling through messages. “Her manager said she just woke up and hasn’t seen any of this yet. Apparently, she left her phone somewhere…”

She paused, smirking slightly. “Somewhere in your car.”

Jeonghan waved her off, feeling a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let out a deep sigh. He needed to figure out what to do next—and fast.

An official statement would have to be released soon, but the bigger question remained: what was going to happen between the two of you now?

“Let’s just say we’re dating,” you blurted out, and Jeonghan immediately choked on nothing.

“We’re not dating,” he stated flatly, eyes wide in disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to date?”

The conversation had suddenly taken a sharp turn, the heat of the moment making it hard to think straight. Thankfully, no one was around to witness the embarrassment unfolding in Jeonghan’s office.

“Don’t say that!” he exclaimed, panic lacing his voice.

“Why not?” You tilted your head, smirking slightly. “Are you suddenly chickening out after kissing me last night? Or do you kiss all your artists, Yoon Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan scowled, thoroughly offended by your accusation. “Is that what you think of me? Wow.”

You shook your head, teasing him more than you probably should. “No, but now I understand why Hyejin misunderstood things.”

Frustrated, Jeonghan threw his hands in the air. “Me and Hyejin were nothing, I told you.”

“Okay, but what about you and me?” you asked, voice softer, but your question hit harder than you’d intended.

Jeonghan’s heart pounded in his chest, suddenly at a loss for words. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say—it was that he was terrified. Scared that if he told you the truth, you’d run away from him.

I love you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration growing as he watched you grin in satisfaction. This woman...

“Please, consider everything before you speak. What about your fans? The shippers for your drama?” Jeonghan was grasping for any reason to keep things under control, even though the situation was spiraling fast.

You shrugged, entirely too nonchalant for his liking. “I don’t know. Let’s see their reaction then.”

Jeonghan crossed his arms and sighed, already feeling defeated. “Alright, fine. Let’s release a statement saying we’re dating—for now. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Your smile grew wider, head tilting as you gave him a look that made his heart race even faster.

“Jeonghan,” you said softly, catching his attention.

“What?”

“I don’t think I just like you.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his breath catching in his throat.

“I think I love you.”

He bit his inner cheek, feeling like he was about to lose his mind. This woman is going to be the death of me.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #densworld🌼#seventeen scenarios #seventeen series #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #jeonghan smut #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan oneshot

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mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

Text

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

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

word count: 18.1k+ (total 36.6k+)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: honestly, i got carried away with the slow burn, and i genuinely mean that cause how is this just 36k+ words of pure fluff?? i think i just clogged myself up with so much pain and angst that i needed nothing but happiness???

also, this is only part 1, it was meant to be one chapter but since it was 36k+ it didn't fit in one post, so go read the next chapter for the full story!

(if you want easier access, you can read the chapter on ao3)

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

series masterlist - chapter 7 → chapter 8.5

The students walked out of the classroom, chatting amongst themselves until there was only you and the sound of you straightening the stack of papers in your hands before walking out yourself.

You stepped out of the classroom, the chatter of students fading behind you as you turned right, eyes down on the stack of papers in your hands. Only to bump straight into someone, the impact making you look up, surprised to find Logan standing right in your path.

“Whoa there,” he murmured, catching you by the arms just long enough to steady you before letting go, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess you’re still not watchin’ where you’re going.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you mumbled, “Sorry, Logan. Lost in thought, I guess.” You gave a small, self-conscious smile, unsure whether to meet his gaze or look anywhere but at him.

Logan’s eyes softened as he took in your flushed expression. “Not a problem,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. He nodded to the papers you were holding. “You really take this teaching thing seriously, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied, shrugging with a shy smile. “I’m kind of… the physics teacher, so I have to.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Right. Wouldn’t want to let the kids think they could slack off, now would ya?” His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, something warm and thoughtful in his gaze. “Never took you for the shy type, though,” he said, almost to himself.

The comment caught you off guard, and you raised an eyebrow, trying to make sense of the meaning behind it. “Is that a… problem?”

“Nah,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Actually… kinda nice.” His voice softened as he added, “Makes you different. But in a good way.”

For a moment, you stood there, unable to quite find the words to respond. Logan didn’t often compliment people, and even if he did, it was usually with a dry remark and a half-smile, not this almost tender edge. You felt your heart skip, but the butterflies in your stomach were quickly interrupted as a few students walked by, nudging each other and glancing at you and Logan with barely disguised amusement.

Logan seemed unfazed by the sudden audience, though. He just glanced at them with a raised eyebrow, making the students scurry off with stifled laughs.

“They’re onto you,” you said, amused despite yourself.

“Oh yeah?” He tilted his head toward you, his smirk widening just slightly. “And what exactly are they onto?”

“That you’re… softer with me,” you admitted, a bit nervously. “I mean, you’re usually not, well, nice.”

Logan let out a small huff of laughter. “Maybe I just don’t see the point in givin’ you a hard time. ‘Sides,” he leaned in just a fraction closer, “I’ve got my reasons.”

You couldn’t hide your flush this time, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to form any coherent response. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then Jean’s voice rang out from the hallway, breaking the moment.

“Y/N! Hey, do you have a second?” She sounded friendly, as usual, but there was a flicker of something else in her tone—an undercurrent of urgency that made you glance over.

You cleared your throat, stepping back from Logan. “I should… probably go.”

Logan nodded, but you noticed the way his hand brushed against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he finally let you go.

Jean approached, offering you a warm smile that turned curious as she looked between you and Logan. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she teased lightly, though her expression wavered slightly. Her eyes seemed darker somehow, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name.

“No, no, you’re not interrupting,” you said quickly. “Logan was just… giving me a hard time.”

Logan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yeah, sure, make me out to be the bad guy.”

Jean laughed, though it sounded slightly forced. “We all know that’s not true, Logan.” She turned to you with a softer expression. “Walk with me? I had a question about one of the classes.”

You nodded, giving Logan a small, shy smile before walking off with Jean. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as you walked away, though you didn’t dare look back.

Once you were out of earshot, Jean sighed, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “You know, he’s really different around you,” she observed quietly. “I mean, he cares about all of us, but… it’s different with you.”

You felt a pang of curiosity mixed with uncertainty. “Different how?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Jean said, pausing for a moment as she thought. “It’s like there’s a part of him that comes alive only when you’re around. A gentler side.”

“Logan? Gentle?” you asked, laughing a little despite yourself.

Jean’s expression turned somber. “You’d be surprised.” Her gaze flickered with something that seemed… almost ominous, though it passed quickly. She offered you a reassuring smile, but there was still a hint of tension. “Just… be careful, okay?”

You frowned, taken aback by her shift in tone. “Careful of what?”

Jean shook her head, waving off the question. “It’s nothing, really. Just… I think he cares about you a lot more than he lets on.” She hesitated, then squeezed your hand lightly before heading down the hall.

You stood there for a moment, trying to piece together her words, her cryptic expression, and the tension that seemed to hang in the air, almost like a storm was waiting just beyond the horizon.

---

Logan hadn’t stayed long enough before to know what normal days were like at the mansion. Now he did. After classes, students filled the halls with laughter and chatter, some rushing off to the next thing, while others wandered outside. He watched as they sprawled across the lawn, huddled over comics, or playfully sparred with their mutant powers, while others claimed the common room and TV with that strange, easy camaraderie that he hadn’t known in a very long time.

And, he realized, it wasn’t so bad.

He was leaning back against a wall in the hallway, lost in thought, when he spotted you walking toward him, papers and a thermos tucked under one arm, your focus somewhere else entirely. His lips quirked up as you grew nearer, completely oblivious to his presence until he let out a low whistle, causing you to stop short, looking up at him with that small, startled smile he’d come to recognize—complete with a glossy shine to your lips.

“Deep in thought there, aren’t you?” Logan’s voice was a mix of teasing and warmth as he raised an eyebrow, watching as you took a quick, steadying breath.

You gave a shy laugh, a flush heating up your cheeks. “Sorry, I was just… thinking about today’s class.” You shrugged, gaze darting away briefly, only to return to his with a shy, half-curious look that gave him pause. “The students had questions about particle physics, and I… well, I didn’t expect so many, honestly.”

Logan’s smirk softened as he watched you. “Not surprised they keep you on your toes. You get all animated when you’re in teaching mode.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to that low, familiar tone that always seemed to linger just for you. “Must be why the kids don’t skip your classes.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, sure, I’m just the highlight of their day.”

“Yeah, don’t sell yourself short, Y/N.” Logan tilted his head, his gaze holding yours just a moment longer than necessary. “You’re kinda the highlight of mine.”

Your heart skipped, and for a split second, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. You mumbled, “You’re… not so bad yourself, Logan,” giving him a soft smile that seemed to settle his expression into something gentler than usual.

Before either of you could say more, Kitty zipped past, phasing halfway through the wall and glancing between you two with a cheeky grin. “Just passing through! Don’t mind me,” she called over her shoulder, sending a wink your way.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Logan just shook his head with a slight, bemused smile. “Kids,” he muttered.

Still flustered, you cleared your throat. “So… got plans for the rest of the day?” you asked, attempting to regain your composure.

“Thought I might head down to the Danger Room,” Logan replied, eyes twinkling slightly as he glanced at you. “You’re welcome to join me. Unless you’re too busy grading.” He nodded at the stack of papers under your arm.

Your laugh was soft. “Grading or Danger Room training? Such a tough choice,” you said, your voice teasing. “Guess I could spare an hour.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a full, almost mischievous smile as he straightened up, giving you a nod. “Good answer.” He turned and started walking toward the elevator, his stride easy and sure, and you followed, still clutching your papers but already half-forgetting about them.

As you both walked through the main hall, a few younger students glanced at you and Logan, exchanging knowing glances and whispers. The whole mansion seemed to have picked up on this unspoken…something between you and Logan, and though no one dared say it aloud, you couldn’t quite ignore the amused glances.

In the elevator, you finally dared a glance at Logan, noticing the faint grin on his face. “I think the kids are starting to make bets on us,” you murmured, half-embarrassed.

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a sideways glance. “Oh, yeah? What’re the odds?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m not sure, but I have a feeling they’re rooting for you.”

“Smart kids,” he replied with a wink.

Your heart gave an involuntary flutter at the easy way he teased you now, each small interaction charged with a warmth and a familiarity that you were still getting used to. Yet, there was something else too—an intensity in his gaze that lingered, something that spoke of memories and past lives you didn’t know you shared. It made you wonder, in quiet moments, just how long he’d felt this way, as though you were a mystery he was determined to keep close.

When you arrived at the Danger Room, he shot you one last playful glance before stepping inside, holding the door open for you like it was the most natural thing.

You hesitated at the door, glancing over at Logan with an uncertain smile. “I’m not sure if I’m the best partner for this,” you said, shifting your weight as you adjusted the stack of papers in your arms. “I don’t really know how to fight.”

Logan shrugged, his lips curling into an easy smirk. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To teach you.” He stepped inside and gave a nod for you to follow, his expression softening as he watched you. “Besides, with that time-bending power of yours, you don’t really need to know how to throw a punch, do you?”

You chuckled, shyly pushing your glasses up on your nose. “Yeah, but it’d be nice to do more than just freeze people in place. You know, in case I need it someday.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you, warm and a bit amused. “Good point. Never hurts to be prepared.” He walked over to the center of the room, beckoning you forward with a slight tilt of his head. “Alright, Y/N, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You hesitated for a second, clutching the stack of papers and your thermos, until he chuckled and reached over, taking them from you. “I’ll hang onto these. Can’t have you distracted,” he said, setting them on a nearby bench. His hand brushed against yours, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine. You looked up, catching his eye, and felt the now-familiar flutter in your chest as he held your gaze, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright,” he started, gesturing for you to follow him to the center of the room. “First lesson in not gettin’ hurt—learn to dodge.” He flashed a quick grin. “Figured we’d start there, since, y’know, might keep that pretty face of yours from getting bruised up.”

You couldn’t help but smile, nervously adjusting your glasses as you let out a soft laugh. “Dodging sounds like a safe place to start,” you agreed, glancing around the room, which hummed with potential energy, screens and obstacles waiting to spring to life at Logan’s command.

“Good.” He took a step closer, his gaze flickering over you with a warm familiarity, one you couldn’t quite place but found oddly comforting. “Just follow my lead.”

With that, Logan gave the signal, and a few small projectiles began to emerge from hidden panels along the walls, firing in your direction. They weren’t dangerous, just enough to test your reflexes. You shifted, trying to move away from them as they came, but missed dodging a couple, barely able to sidestep in time.

Logan let out a low chuckle, stepping in to help as he guided you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re overthinkin’ it,” he murmured. “Trust yourself—move with the flow of things.”

The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through you, but his words were steady, grounded, like he was trying to give you a part of himself that made all of this seem so natural to him. You nodded, focusing on his voice rather than the projectiles, and found that dodging them came a little easier, your body moving in sync with his instructions.

“Good,” he praised, his voice softening as he stepped back to give you space. “See? You’ve got it. Just takes a bit of trust.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I… guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you said, your voice quiet, but he caught the shy smile on your face, and his eyes softened, almost as if he was seeing something more than just you standing there in the Danger Room.

“Yeah,” he replied, that lingering look in his eyes returning. “Been waitin’ for this, believe it or not.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion tugging at you. “Waiting for what?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held your gaze, something unspoken passing between you both before he finally shook his head, breaking the tension with a smirk. “For you to stop bein’ so serious in class,” he teased, lightening the moment. “Takes a bit to get you to relax, doesn’t it?”

You felt your face heat, and you laughed softly. “Guess I’m still getting used to… all this.” You motioned to the Danger Room and then to him, and Logan nodded, his expression unreadable for a second.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said softly, that nickname slipping out as naturally as if he’d used it a hundred times before. “We’ve got time.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the Danger Room doors opened, and Scott stepped inside, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you and Logan standing close, with you looking flushed and Logan wearing a rare, softer expression.

“Didn’t know you were takin’ up teaching, Logan,” Scott remarked, a hint of a smirk in his voice.

Logan just shot him a lazy glare, but you could feel the warmth of Logan’s lingering gaze on you even as Scott’s teasing drew your attention. "Someone's gotta keep ‘em on their toes," he replied, his voice gruff but playful.

Scott nodded, giving you a smile. “Well, keep it up. We could use more of that around here.” He nodded to Logan before leaving, leaving you alone with Logan again.

Logan let out a small chuckle, glancing at you. “Guess word’s out I’m takin’ the ‘soft’ approach with ya,” he said, his voice a bit lower as he took a step closer, his gaze settling on you with a steady intensity that made your heart race. “But maybe they don’t need to know everything.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you felt something pull you closer to him, something you didn’t understand but couldn’t deny. And Logan’s expression, a mixture of longing and patience, made you feel like he was waiting—waiting for a moment only he understood.

---

Logan had been looking everywhere for you—your room, the library, your office, your classroom, but he couldn’t find you. He finally walked into the kitchen, Scott was rummaging through the fridge while Jean and Ororo talked by the island.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

Ororo glanced out the window, “it’s raining,” she stated.

“And?” Logan frowned at the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass.

He barely caught the hint of a smile Jean gave as she said, “She’s outside in the back. Probably reading.”

Of course you’d be out there. He nodded a quick thanks, stepping through the back door and into the soft drizzle. A few steps down the porch, he spotted a faint light coming from the field. He walked across the grass, the rain matting his hair and soaking his clothes.

Logan stopped a few feet away, taking in the scene. You were sitting cross-legged on the damp grass, a book open in your lap, oblivious to the world around you. Above, raindrops hung frozen in the air, suspended like tiny prisms under the glow of your lantern. It was like you’d created your own little world, untouched by the rain.

“Interesting reading spot,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of a smirk.

You glanced up, startled, but relaxed when you saw him, pushing your glasses up. “I just… like being outside,” you mumbled, glancing away. “It’s quiet.”

He stepped closer, hands still in his pockets, the rain parting above him as he entered your time-slowed bubble. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, a hint of that rough charm lacing his tone.

You nodded quickly, shuffling over a bit. Logan sat beside you, his broad shoulders just inches from yours. He looked up at the still raindrops around you and let out a low chuckle. “Nice trick. Keeps the rain out and all.”

You bit your lip, glancing down at your book to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “Just… didn’t want the pages getting wet,” you murmured. “Or my glasses fogging up.”

“Guess I’d never thought of glasses as somethin’ that needed their own bubble,” he replied, amused.

You finally dared to look up at him, meeting his gaze for just a moment before shyly looking away again. “You’re drenched. I didn’t… I mean, you didn’t have to come out here.”

“Didn’t have to,” he agreed, leaning in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours just enough for you to notice. “But I wanted to. Figured I should see what’s so important about readin’ out in the rain.” He glanced at the title of your book. “What’re you readin’?”

You held it up, realizing he was genuinely interested. “The Da Vinci Code,” you said softly, almost embarrassed. “I don’t really like it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “you’re more than halfway done.”

“I don’t like not finishing books.”

Logan gave a soft chuckle, glancing from your face to the book. "Guess that makes you pretty stubborn, huh?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the corner of the page. “It just feels… wrong to stop halfway. Like I’d be giving up on it.”

"Giving up, huh? I don’t see you as the quitting type.” He leaned back, resting his hands in the damp grass, completely unfazed by the rain still dripping off his hair. “So, what’s got you so unimpressed?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I think it’s trying too hard. Like it wants to be smart, but it just feels… obvious.”

“Guess it’s good I didn’t pick that one up.” His lips curled into a grin. “You always pick out books you know you’ll hate?”

A quiet laugh escaped you. “No. But sometimes I get curious, and it doesn’t always pay off.” You glanced sideways at him, pushing your glasses up again. "Not like I expected you to be much of a reader, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You just seem like the… outdoorsy type?”

He gave a low chuckle, leaning a bit closer. “I’m full of surprises.” The warmth of his gaze lingered on you, holding your eyes just a second longer than you expected.

You looked away quickly, biting your lip. "Maybe you can recommend me something better next time," you said, feeling your cheeks warm under his stare.

“Oh, I’ve got some ideas,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing. "And maybe I’ll bring you a book worth readin’ in the rain.”

You hid another smile, turning back to your book. But Logan didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, just sitting there beside you, letting the quiet settle between you both.

---

“I rewired them and added a few more breakers. I think you should be all good now,” you said, standing up from the floor and dusting off your hands. “Jean?”

Jean looked up from the workbench she’d set up in the corner, an appreciative smile crossing her face. “Thanks, Y/N. I swear, some of this equipment’s older than I am.”

“Just needed a bit of extra care,” you shrugged, glancing at the exposed circuits. "Or maybe some serious replacement," you added with a grin. "Hopefully, that’ll keep it from sparking every time someone uses the projector.”

Jean chuckled, brushing her hair back as she leaned against the bench. "We’ll see. You’ve got the touch, though—half the mansion would be out of power by now if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure Scott would’ve figured it out eventually,” you teased, earning a snort from her.

“Scott knows how to flip a light switch, but you?” Jean shook her head. “It’s like you speak machine.” She tilted her head, a hint of curiosity glinting in her eyes. “So… reading in the rain again?”

“Um… yeah,” you replied, pushing your glasses up self-consciously. “I like the quiet.”

“That I understand,” she said warmly, but then, for a brief second, her gaze flickered. Her smile stayed, but something in her eyes looked distant, almost… wary. The change was so subtle that you almost thought you imagined it.

“Jean?”

She blinked and the moment passed. “Hmm? Sorry, I spaced out for a second. Must be all those late nights.”

“Yeah, you’ve been pulling a lot of shifts,” you said, watching her closely. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, you know… just the usual.” She waved a hand, brushing it off with a small laugh. “Professor’s been on my case about resting, but there’s so much going on.”

You offered a soft smile. “Maybe he’s right. You can’t be everywhere at once, Jean.”

Jean’s expression softened, a hint of something wistful touching her features. “Sometimes it feels like I have to be, though.” She looked down, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the workbench. “With all that’s happening… it feels like I need to be ready. Prepared.”

There was a quiet intensity in her voice that gave you pause. “Prepared for what?” you asked gently.

She glanced up, her eyes meeting yours with an almost searching look. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, but her tone had an edge of urgency. “Sometimes it’s like… there’s something inside of me, something I can’t quite understand. And it’s growing.”

You hesitated, then reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, Jean. You’ve got me, the Professor… all of us.”

Her expression relaxed, and she covered your hand with hers, giving it a grateful squeeze. “I know. I’m lucky to have you, Y/N.” Her gaze softened further. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one around here who isn’t constantly asking if I’m okay, like I’m some fragile thing.”

“Well, you’re not fragile,” you said firmly, earning a grateful smile from her.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jean said, her voice a little lighter now. “And if you ever want to get away from Logan’s constant staring contests, I’m always around.” She raised an eyebrow playfully.

You blinked, your cheeks instantly warming. “Logan? Staring?”

“Please,” she teased, laughter dancing in her eyes. “He’s been all over you since you got here. I mean, he’s not exactly subtle, is he?”

You tried to shrug it off, though you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of warmth in your cheeks. “I don’t know… I guess I just thought he was… friendly.”

Jean laughed softly, nudging your arm. “Friendly? Y/N, I think he’d growl at anyone who tried to interrupt your time-bending reading sessions.”

“I’m sure he’s like that with everyone,” you replied, though the thought made you feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Sure, everyone,” Jean said with a smirk. “Except… you’re the only one he follows into a storm just to sit beside in silence. I’d say that’s more than ‘friendly.’”

You bit your lip, looking down as you tried to stifle a smile. You’d always thought there was something about Logan that made him linger around you, but hearing it from Jean made it feel… different. Like maybe you hadn’t imagined the little moments he stayed close or the way his gaze seemed softer when he looked at you.

---

You didn’t like meetings, and while you preferred being in the Professor’s office with everyone else over a one-on-one, it didn’t mean you liked it. The Professor was going over a mission debrief, his gaze sweeping across the team. You sat a little toward the back, trying to keep a low profile. Logan, who had come in just a few minutes before, took a seat close to you, his usual habit of hanging back subtly pulling him toward your side of the room.

As the Professor continued, you felt Logan's eyes on you, but every time you dared to glance his way, he looked like he was concentrating on something far away. It was small things like this that always made you wonder—little, lingering looks or quiet moments in the hallway where he’d pass by just close enough that his presence was hard to ignore.

You did your best to focus on what the Professor was saying, but after a while, you felt Logan shift slightly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, relaxed yet distinctly attentive. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you again.

Finally, you dared to meet his gaze, giving him a small, shy smile.

“What?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, still moving your pen back and forth between your index and middle fingers.

“Just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on in that head of yours,” Logan murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Caught off guard, you blinked, feeling your cheeks warm as you continued twirling the pen in your fingers. “Um… just… listening,” you stammered quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Logan chuckled softly, his gaze steady. “Sure ya are.”

His tone held that familiar teasing edge, and you could feel him watching you even as you tried to refocus on the Professor’s words. The others in the room were paying attention to the debrief, but you had the odd sense that Logan’s attention was entirely on you, as if he could see through the quiet, reserved front you tried to put up.

Logan's teasing smirk lingered as you tried, and failed, to redirect your attention to the Professor's debrief. But as you continued twirling your pen, he leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Y’know,” he murmured, “that pen-twirlin’ of yours is makin’ me a little anxious.”

You stopped mid-twirl, blinking up at him, feeling a surge of embarrassment. Before you could apologize, he wordlessly reached over and took the pen out of your hand. But he didn’t give it back. Instead, he held onto it, letting his fingers linger on yours, and then, almost casually, his hand slid down to hold yours under the table.

You tensed at first, your eyes darting around to see if anyone noticed. But everyone else was absorbed in the Professor’s talk, completely unaware. Logan’s hand was warm, grounding, and despite your nerves, you felt a small surge of comfort. Slowly, you relaxed, letting your fingers curl around his.

He glanced sideways at you, a small smirk still tugging at his mouth. “Better?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, though you could feel your heart racing. Without your pen, you found yourself nervously tracing little patterns in the palm of his hand, letting your fingertips wander over the rough lines of his skin, tracing the knuckles and the faint scars along his fingers. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, just lost in the simple, steady motion.

Logan’s thumb brushed gently over your hand in response, his hold tightening slightly, and you swore you felt a quiet, satisfied hum rumble in his chest. Despite your shy nature, you couldn’t ignore the way he seemed to soften in these moments, as if he was just as reluctant to let go.

For the rest of the meeting, his hand stayed around yours, his thumb grazing lightly over your knuckles in a rhythm that was both reassuring and subtly flirtatious. You weren’t sure if he knew what his touch was doing to your already racing pulse, but from the quiet satisfaction in his expression, you suspected he did.

As the Professor wrapped up, some of the other team members glanced your way, but no one commented. Logan's usual stern exterior was unmistakably gentler, and a few of the younger mutants exchanged knowing looks, though they quickly looked away, perhaps sensing that it wasn’t something to tease you about.

When everyone started to disperse, Logan finally released your hand, slipping the pen back into your fingers with a slight, almost reluctant brush of his fingertips. He gave you a smirk, one eyebrow raised. “See? No need to keep spinnin’ that pen around.”

Your cheeks warmed as you fumbled with the pen, and you looked away, managing a shy smile. “Maybe I just need more practice.”

Logan chuckled, his gaze lingering on you as he pushed himself up. “Well, you know where to find me,” he said, his tone holding just a hint of something more. Then, with one last glance, he turned and headed toward the door, leaving you feeling like he’d stolen more than just a few minutes of your time.

---

Jones continued blinking, changing the channels on the small TV, until he landed on the nightly PBS station. Theresa huffed and folded her arms as you guided both of their focuses back to the cookies they had asked you to make with them.

"Okay, so, you take a little bit of the dough and roll it into a ball. It doesn’t have to be perfect," you said gently, showing Jones and Theresa the process with a small smile. Both kids looked on, wide-eyed and eager, Theresa’s fingers already sticky with dough, while Jones seemed more interested in sneaking bites than rolling.

“Like this?” Theresa asked, holding up her dough ball, which was more lopsided than round.

“Exactly,” you said, giving her an encouraging nod. “They’ll all taste the same anyway, even if they look funny.”

Jones looked from his misshapen dough ball to Theresa’s, smirking. “Mine’s better,” he teased.

“Oh yeah?” Theresa challenged, nudging him playfully. "We’ll see whose tastes better!”

You chuckled softly, gently placing both of their attempts on the tray. “Alright, let’s focus on making a few more before you eat all the dough.”

In the background, you caught a glimpse of Logan lingering by the doorway, half-hidden in the shadows. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the three of you with a quiet, almost nostalgic expression. You caught his gaze and gave him a small, shy smile, which he returned with a faint nod, his eyes softer than usual. It was a look you had started to notice more and more—a silent warmth reserved only for you, one that was almost protective.

Logan’s gaze stayed on you as you guided Theresa’s hands, helping her with another dough ball, and encouraging Jones to try shaping one like a star. You were so good with them, Logan couldn’t help but remember all the other times he’d seen you with kids in your past lives. You had always been gentle, patient, the type to make them feel safe and seen.

“Think they’re ready for the oven?” you asked, brushing flour from your hands.

Theresa and Jones looked from each other to you with eager nods.

“Yes!” Theresa chimed in.

“Finally,” Jones added, stifling a small grin as he looked at the tray.

You carefully put the cookies in the oven, setting the timer before turning back to the kids. “They’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes, so no peeking!”

Jones pretended to be exasperated but nodded, and Theresa let out a small, delighted squeal, her mind already on tasting the finished cookies.

Logan watched the scene quietly, noticing how natural this was for you. This wasn’t just kindness—it was something deeper, a warmth that drew people to you without you even realizing it. He could see why the kids adored you, why others in the mansion sought you out for comfort, and why his own instinct was always to protect you, to be near you.

As you turned to put away some ingredients, Logan finally stepped forward, his presence a little more obvious now.

“Didn’t know you were such a baker, Y/N,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You jumped slightly, not realizing he’d come closer, and turned to see him just a few steps away. “Oh! Um… I’m not, really,” you replied, glancing down. “I just… Theresa and Jones wanted to make cookies, and I didn’t want to let them down.”

“Well, from what I saw, you did pretty good. They look like they’re havin’ the time of their lives,” he added, his gaze softer than usual.

Theresa, noticing Logan now, grinned up at him. “You’re just in time to taste them, Logan!”

Logan chuckled, crouching down to her level. “I wouldn’t miss it, kid.”

Jones, though pretending to ignore the adults, cast a knowing look between you and Logan. “Yeah, right. You’re just here to watch Miss Y/N.”

You felt your cheeks warm immediately as Logan gave Jones a look of amused surprise, lifting an eyebrow. “Watchin’ her bake isn’t as fun as watchin’ you two mess with the dough, kid.”

Jones didn’t look convinced, but Theresa gave a giggle, pushing her little fist up to her mouth. “Miss Y/N’s the best at baking.”

“Oh, really?” Logan said, his voice laced with humor, eyes back on you. “Didn’t know I was dealing with an expert here.”

You bit your lip, flustered by the attention and not quite sure how to respond. “I’m just… I’m just helping them. Nothing special.”

Logan stepped a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Seems special to me.”

You quickly looked away, busying yourself with wiping down the counter, feeling your pulse race under his gaze. The way Logan looked at you was different—intense, as if he could see right through every shy attempt to brush things off. And though his usual gruff tone was still there, there was a gentleness that only seemed to surface when he was around you. It was impossible to ignore how your heart jumped a little every time he was near, or how his subtle flirtations left you more flustered than you cared to admit.

After a few minutes, the timer beeped, and Theresa and Jones jumped up in excitement.

“They’re ready!” Theresa squealed, bouncing on her toes.

You smiled, moving to pull the tray out, but Logan was faster, reaching over your shoulder to grab the oven mitts, his arm brushing against yours as he did so. “I got it,” he said, his voice low and close enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pulled the tray out effortlessly, placing it on the counter with a smirk. “Better be good. Don’t wanna waste time tasting any duds.”

Theresa shot him a mock-scowl as Jones reached for a cookie. “You’ll love them, I bet,” he said confidently.

You watched as Logan took a cookie, biting into it with a skeptical look that quickly melted into a smirk. “Alright, kid, not bad.”

The kids cheered, and you couldn’t help but smile as Logan glanced your way again, a knowing look in his eyes.

---

Dinner was quiet, though technically an understatement with kids running around, to Logan it was. You were nowhere to be found, and although you occasionally came to dinner late, never this late.

Logan leaned back, eyes scanning the crowded dining room for any sign of you, brows furrowing slightly when he didn’t see you among the younger kids or the teachers.

“Maybe she’s asleep,” Ororo said, noticing Logan’s expression. “She was up half the night after Artie had a nightmare.” She rounded the table, pulling a reluctant Jones back to clear his plate while Theresa ran to help with the dishes.

Logan grunted a reply, shifting his gaze down the empty hallway outside. You were dedicated—more than most. You made sure the kids felt safe, even if it meant running on little sleep. He considered waiting it out, letting you get some rest, but something made him push back his chair and step quietly out of the dining room, deciding to see for himself.

After a few knocks on your door and no response, Logan checked the usual places but still didn’t find you. Finally, he spotted you in your office, forehead resting on your arm, glasses crooked as you lay slumped over your desk, papers scattered beneath you. The light cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the stacks of student projects and physics diagrams you’d been grading late into the night. He sighed, leaning against the doorway for a moment, debating his next move.

With a quiet step, he entered the room and came to your side, noticing how your breathing was soft and even. Gently, he rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low, “time to get you to bed.”

You didn’t stir, and Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. Usually, you were a light sleeper, sensitive to the slightest sound or shift. He tapped your shoulder a little firmer, but still, you didn’t wake. He huffed, a small, amused grin flickering over his face. “Out cold, huh?” he whispered.

At that moment, Jean appeared in the hallway, pausing when she noticed the scene. She tilted her head with a slight smile. “Want me to take care of it?” she asked, her voice hushed as she gestured toward you.

Logan glanced at her, giving a subtle shake of his head. “Nah, I got it.” He shifted his gaze back to you, his expression softening as he carefully slid one arm under your legs and another around your back, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. Your glasses slid a little, and he gently adjusted them, his face inches from yours as he whispered, “let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, alright?”

You stirred faintly in his arms, leaning your head against his chest with a quiet sigh but remaining asleep. Logan carried you down the dimly lit hallway, nodding to a few passing students who shot him curious looks, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement at seeing him carrying you with such care. He ignored them, his attention focused solely on you.

Reaching your room, he nudged the door open with his boot, stepped inside, and carefully lowered you onto the bed. He removed your glasses, then began taking off your sneakers while glancing around your room. Logan had never been inside before, only ever coming as far as your door, and he was surprised to find it… bare.

There were a few essentials: a neatly stacked row of physics journals, a small, worn plush that looked like it had seen better days, and a tiny hourglass that caught the light in an odd way, giving off a slight, shimmering glow. The space felt like yours in some ways—quiet, orderly—but the walls were nearly bare, with just a single calendar marked with scribbled notes. For someone who had been part of the X-Men for a while, you hadn’t left much of yourself behind in this room, almost as if you were ready to leave at any time.

Logan brushed his fingers over the small hourglass, the delicate grains slipping through it in slow, mesmerizing intervals. It reminded him of you somehow—the way you seemed caught between moments, present yet not fully anchored, as though you were perpetually passing through.

As he adjusted the blanket over you, his hand lingered a moment, thumb brushing softly along your shoulder. You shifted slightly in your sleep, unconsciously leaning toward him, a faint smile ghosting over your lips. Logan felt a tightness in his chest he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge in years, a warmth that reached beyond the fleeting attraction he could brush off. This was something else, something that had lingered across time and lifetimes.

In the dim light, he could make out the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, the way a strand of hair fell across your cheek. It struck him how familiar this all was—the softness of your expression, the quiet trust in your sleep. He remembered a hundred small moments like this, times when he’d watched over you, sometimes even held you like this in his arms. He’d seen you fade away in all those lives before, but here you were, whole and breathing, even if you didn’t remember a single moment of those past lives. He was the only one who did, the weight of those memories settling heavily in his chest.

The door creaked, and Logan looked up to see Jean standing there, a soft smile curving her lips as she observed the scene.

"She works harder than most of us," Jean murmured, her voice almost reverent. “You don’t see her resting very often. Guess she trusts you, though.” There was a look in Jean’s eyes, something Logan couldn’t quite place, a flicker of warmth edged with something almost... distant, like she was there but not entirely present.

“She’d trust anyone if it meant looking out for the kids,” Logan replied, his voice low, glancing down at you before looking back at Jean. “Guess she pushes herself harder than she needs to.”

Jean nodded thoughtfully, crossing her arms, and for a moment, her gaze seemed to turn inward, distant. “She does,” Jean said slowly, “but there’s more to it, I think. She… well, it’s like she feels she has to prove herself, even if she’s already earned everyone’s trust.”

Logan’s jaw tightened subtly. That sense of needing to prove yourself, even when it was clear to everyone else that you’d more than done so, was all too familiar to him. He could see it in the way you volunteered for every duty, looked after every stray kid with barely a complaint, and stayed up late grading assignments, wanting to do right by everyone in the mansion.

Jean’s eyes softened as she took in the way Logan still watched you. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said softly, lingering in the doorway for a moment. She tilted her head, an almost curious look in her eyes. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Jean’s words lingered as she walked away, her footsteps fading down the hall. Logan let out a breath, looking back down at you with a mixture of tenderness and frustration. You’d been lucky in so many ways and tragically unlucky in others—dying each time he found you, leaving him with nothing but memories of those fleeting moments.

He brushed another stray lock of hair back from your face, his thumb lingering near your cheek as he spoke quietly to you, “One day… maybe one day, I’ll get to keep ya.”

After a moment, Logan gently placed the small hourglass on the bedside table, right where you’d see it when you woke up, before rising and heading toward the door. He cast one last glance back at you, reluctant to leave you alone even now. But he knew you needed the rest more than he needed to stay. Besides, he’d be just down the hall if you needed him.

---

There was one thing Logan had been wanting to know for some time—something that at times kept him up at night.

That damn glossy lip of yours. He knew it was either cherry or strawberry flavored, but other than that, he was clueless. It didn’t help that one of your nervous ticks, other than twirling your pen in hand, was rolling or biting your lip while in thought. Sometimes you bit your lip to try and hide a smile or laugh, like now, as he watched you and Jean walk down the hall.

“Empire Strikes Back is the best sequel ever made!” you declared, nudging Jean as you strolled down the hall together. “It’s everything you want in a sequel—a better story, more character development, actual stakes…”

Jean laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You do realize it’s just a movie, right?”

“Jean, please,” you said, feigning offense. “This is Star Wars. ‘Just a movie’ doesn’t apply.”

Jean held her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine,” she said, suppressing a smile. “But A New Hope started everything! You have to respect the original.”

“I do,” you insisted, adjusting your glasses and smiling up at her. “But just because it came first doesn’t make it better. Empire has that… well, darkness. It’s iconic.”

Logan was a few paces behind, arms crossed, a subtle smile tugging at his mouth as he watched the back-and-forth between you and Jean. The way you grew animated when you were comfortable, your enthusiasm spilling over in debates like this, wasn’t something he saw often. There was a quietness to you, a gentleness—qualities that seemed to draw people in without you even trying.

It was no wonder the kids gravitated toward you, or why Jean looked at you like a sister she’d known her whole life. Logan found himself watching you more than he’d ever let on, his attention caught on those small, unexpected things.

“Fine, Empire wins, A New Hope second,” Jean conceded. “But I draw the line at Return of the Jedi. Those Ewoks were pushing it.”

You laughed, giving her a playful nudge. “I’ll give you that.”

Logan shook his head, stepping a bit closer. “Gonna let me in on this debate?”

You jumped slightly, turning to look at him with a surprised smile, cheeks coloring faintly at how close he’d gotten without you noticing. “Oh! Um… Well, we were just arguing the merits of Empire Strikes Back over A New Hope.”

Jean rolled her eyes. “Arguing is putting it lightly.”

“Some of us just have good taste,” you teased, looking at her before glancing back up at Logan.

Logan smirked. “Good taste, huh? Alright, which one’s your favorite then?”

Without missing a beat, you answered, “Empire. No contest.”

“Smart choice,” he said, his voice lower, eyes lingering on you a second longer than usual. There was a softness in his expression, an ease that wasn’t there with most people, like he was letting a bit of his usual guardedness fall away when it was just you. And it didn’t go unnoticed; Jean caught the subtle exchange, a knowing smile slipping onto her face, though she kept quiet.

“See?” you said to Jean, feeling a little surge of confidence with Logan’s agreement. “Logan gets it.”

Jean gave a mock sigh. “Well, I guess I’m outnumbered,” she said, looking between you two with a slight smirk. “I’ll just have to wait until I find a couple of people with my taste.” She shot you both a teasing look before starting down the hallway.

“I don’t think you’re gonna find any,” Logan called after her, making you chuckle.

You and Logan fell into step together, and you felt a little flustered, not entirely sure what to do with the silence that followed. Logan’s attention was a bit overwhelming—yet strangely comforting at the same time. He had a way of looking at you, like he was noticing details even you hadn’t paid attention to, and it left you a bit tongue-tied.

He gave you a sidelong glance, his expression softening. “Didn’t think you’d be into sci-fi movies.”

“Oh, I—well, yeah,” you said, giving a small, bashful smile. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”

Logan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that somehow made you feel warm inside. “Yeah, guess so.”

The hall was quieter now, most of the students already heading to their rooms or the common areas for the night. You pushed your glasses up, looking down as you fiddled with the strap of your watch. “I guess it’s just, I don’t know, nice to get lost in a different universe sometimes. It’s a little easier when there’s lightsabers and the Force involved, I guess.”

Logan nodded, his gaze drifting over your face, as if he was trying to memorize every detail. “You ever feel like you’re still in a different universe when you’re here?”

You thought about it, then nodded. “Sometimes. It’s… hard to explain.”

“Don’t need to,” he said, voice soft. “I get it.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the understanding in his tone. He held your gaze, his expression uncharacteristically gentle, almost as though he was sharing in that quiet space with you. There was something in his eyes that felt like familiarity—a feeling of being seen that made you shift nervously, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you said softly, a shy smile touching your lips.

“Anytime,” he replied, the words seeming to carry a weight you couldn’t quite place.

---

Some of the kids were training with Ororo and Scott in the Danger Room, while you sat on the sidelines, observing intently. The kids were sparring, testing their powers in controlled scenarios, but it was more intense than you’d expected. Even from the sidelines, you felt a little thrill from watching their dedication.

You’d learned to dodge and block a bit from Logan about a month ago, but that was the extent of your training. Though your time-manipulation abilities offered you certain advantages, you still felt unprepared when it came to hand-to-hand combat. After all, a time freeze was helpful, but it couldn’t teach you how to throw a proper punch. You adjusted your glasses, watching as Scott demonstrated a move for Jones, who was trying to keep up, determination written all over his face.

“Ya look like you’re itching to join ‘em,” Logan’s voice came from behind you, low and teasing. You hadn’t noticed him enter, but his presence felt natural by your side. You looked up, feeling your cheeks warm as he met your gaze with a familiar glint in his eye, one you’d come to recognize as playful but warm—especially when it was directed at you.

“Well,” you admitted, shyly tugging at your sleeve, “I feel like I should know more. I mean, just in case.” You glanced back at the training session, feeling a little vulnerable for admitting it, especially to him.

Logan gave a small chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall beside you. “In that case, why don’t I show you a thing or two? You’re not gonna get there just watchin’.” His gaze softened. “If you want to, that is.”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” Your voice was quieter than you’d intended, a little unsure, but there was something reassuring about the way he looked at you that made you want to try.

Logan led you to an empty part of the training area, away from the others. “Alright, first things first,” he said, taking your hands and guiding them into fists, his touch careful. “A punch isn’t just throwin’ your fist forward. You want to aim with your whole body—so start by grounding your feet.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders to adjust your stance. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and your heart skipped a beat. He guided your arm into position, his touch steady and sure as he moved your arm, ensuring your wrist was aligned.

“Now, try to punch me,” he instructed with a small grin, stepping back and raising his hand to form a target.

You glanced at him, nervous but determined, and took a swing. Your punch landed, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Not bad for a first try. Try again, but this time put your weight into it. Use your hips,” he suggested, moving closer to guide you through the motion again.

Taking a breath, you tried again, focusing on his advice. This time, you felt the force of your punch increase, though he still didn’t seem fazed. Logan nodded approvingly. “There ya go, that’s it. Now, keep practicing that. Remember: control, not just power.”

As you kept practicing, Logan’s focus remained on you, his gaze warm and encouraging. You caught Ororo and Scott exchanging glances, a knowing smile on Ororo’s face, though neither said anything. You brushed off your flustered thoughts, managing to hold Logan’s gaze with a shy smile.

Eventually, after a few more attempts, Logan put his hands up in a surrendering motion. “Alright, I think you’re ready to take on the universe,” he joked, his eyes crinkling with that soft smile that seemed to be reserved just for you. “Now, don’t go punchin’ the wrong people, alright?”

You laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll try not to.”

As you both headed out of the training area, Logan walked beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing yours. His tone was playful, but there was a tenderness in his gaze, and you felt a connection you couldn’t quite explain—something you couldn’t put into words but could feel, lingering between you.

---

You zipped your suitcase, a small carry-on for your few-day trip to California. The upcoming Quantum Information Science conference had you both nervous and excited, though you'd never been all that eager to travel alone.

Jean poked her head in, her expression soft but amused as she saw you standing by your suitcase, taking a breath before the journey. In her hands was a wide-brimmed sun hat, clearly out of place for the mansion but perfect for a California trip.

"Since you're heading to sunny California, I got you this," she said, plopping the hat onto your head with a grin. “Just because you're going to a conference doesn’t mean you can't look like you’re on vacation."

You adjusted the hat, laughing softly, though the nervous energy still lingered. “Thanks, Jean. I’m sure it’ll come in handy,” you replied, a little shy, but you knew she was only trying to lighten the mood.

Just then, Logan appeared at the doorway, crossing his arms as he leaned against the frame. His eyes held that familiar glint as he took in the scene, though there was something else—a flicker of protectiveness, one you’d come to recognize. Logan was rarely this obvious about it, but when he looked at you like that, it was hard to ignore.

“So, all packed?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze serious.

“Just about,” you nodded, glancing at the suitcase before looking back at him. There was a strange ache in your chest, almost like you were about to leave behind something important. But it was only a short trip. You didn’t expect to feel this way.

He gave a quick nod, then shrugged as if trying to brush off a thought. "Mind if I tag along?" He asked it casually, but the tension in his posture said he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“Oh—uh, well, I mean, if you want to,” you stammered, caught off guard. “But, Logan, don’t you have training and—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t sit right with me, you crossin’ the country all alone.” His voice softened. “Call it me lookin’ out for ya.”

Jean smirked, rolling her eyes as she slipped past him. “Well, you two have fun in California,” she said with a wink, clearly in on the unspoken connection between you and Logan.

As she left, you tried to push down your shy smile. “You know, I’ll be in a conference room most of the time,” you teased him. “Not sure it’ll be much fun.”

Logan just shrugged. “Yeah, well, I can think of worse ways to spend a few days.” He bent down, hoisting your suitcase up with ease, then gestured with his head for you to follow him.

---

The flight was uneventful, but you found yourself hyper-aware of Logan's presence beside you. Each time he glanced your way to check in, your heart skipped a beat. Eventually, you arrived at your hotel, a sleek conference venue just a short walk from the beach.

Logan was grabbing the bags from the cab as you checked in.

"Yep, a single room—" the woman began.

"Oh, uh—actually, I called earlier and upgraded to a double," you interrupted.

The woman at the front desk popped her gum, gave the computer screen a flat look, and then glanced back at you. "Yeah, the single is the only room available," she said, unfazed by your surprise.

You bit your lip, stealing a glance at Logan, who had just entered with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His expression didn’t change—casual as always—but you could sense a flicker of discomfort beneath the surface.

“Guess that means we’ll be getting cozy,” he said, deadpan, though there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah,” you managed, offering the desk clerk a smile before accepting the key. Logan followed you to the elevator in silence, though you could practically feel him smirking beside you.

Once you got to the room, you stepped in and took in the minimal space: one bed, no couch. A tiny table with one chair was pushed against the wall. Logan set his bag down by the door, glancing around before turning his attention to you.

“Looks like I’ll be takin’ the floor,” he said, already half-kneeling to lay out his bag.

“Wait,” you protested, shuffling closer and folding your arms. “You can’t just sleep on the floor. It’s… well, I don’t know what’s been on it,” you finished with a grimace, barely resisting the urge to pull a face.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours, and something softened in his expression. “Couldn’t let you sleep there. Besides,” he added, with a faint smirk, “I’ve slept on worse.”

You hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re both adults. We could… share.” You kept your gaze on the floor, hoping he couldn’t see the flush creeping up your cheeks. “I mean, just sleep,” you added quickly, regretting the bold suggestion the moment it was out.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but he didn’t make a joke at your expense, which you appreciated. “Sure, if you’re comfortable with that.” His voice was softer, reassuring even, which only made your heart pound a little faster.

You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady, and took a seat on one side of the bed, facing away from him. You could hear the soft rustling as Logan removed his boots and jacket, settling onto the other side of the bed. The silence was almost tangible as he lay beside you, and your senses were suddenly on high alert—aware of every small shift he made, the warmth of him radiating just inches away.

After a few moments, Logan’s voice cut through the silence. “Nervous about this conference?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, grateful for the distraction. “It’s… a lot of pressure. Presenting in front of so many people. I know I’m prepared, but it’s hard to shake the nerves.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. You know your stuff better than anyone, from what I’ve seen. Besides,” he added, his tone softening, “you got me around if you need backup.”

You smiled, glancing over to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Logan. Really.”

He shrugged, but there was a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “S’what I’m here for.”

The two of you lay in silence after that, but you could feel the faint pull of sleep starting to settle in.

---

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he woke up like this—his arm draped loosely around your waist, your hand resting on his, and your back pressed against his chest. Logan’s breath was steady, brushing against the crook of your neck as the early morning sunlight filtered faintly through the hotel curtains. For a moment, he just lay there, motionless, taking it all in.

It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up tangled with you—not in this life or the ones before it—but it still hit him differently every time. That same ache, deep and persistent, stirred in his chest. The sense of déjà vu was almost unbearable, made worse by the fact that you didn’t remember any of it.

Logan’s thumb brushed the back of your hand, and he let his gaze drift down to where your fingers loosely curled around his. Even in your sleep, there was trust in how naturally you leaned into him, as if some part of you, deep down, remembered too.

“Darlin’, you’ve got no idea what you do to me,” Logan murmured softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it too real. He knew you couldn’t hear him—not like this—but the words still felt heavy on his tongue.

“You’re always slippin’ away from me. Feels like I’m just chasin’ ghosts,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “But not this time. Not this time.”

He pressed a feather-light kiss to your neck, just above your shoulder. The gesture was fleeting, tender, but it made his chest tighten. It was a moment he couldn’t allow himself to linger in—because if you woke up like this, he knew it would mess with your head, and the last thing he wanted was to throw you off before the conference.

Carefully, Logan began to shift, untangling himself from you with slow precision. He froze as you stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but your breathing evened out again, and he exhaled quietly in relief. Once he was free, he moved to the other side of the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the hotel carpet.

Leaning against the dresser, Logan ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft sigh. He glanced over at the bed, watching as you turned onto your side, still deep in sleep. You looked peaceful, content even. It was a rare sight, and he found himself unwilling to look away for a long moment.

The guilt clawed at him, as it always did. You didn’t ask for this—for him to carry around the weight of all your lives while you got to start fresh every time. He wondered if you’d even want to know if you could, or if you’d see him as just another piece of baggage tying you down.

Shaking off the thoughts, Logan turned his attention to the clock on the nightstand. It was just past 7 a.m., and the day would start soon enough. If he wanted to make sure you were ready for it, he needed to keep his distance—for now, at least.

He grabbed his jacket and stepped out onto the small balcony, letting the cool California air clear his head. The streets below were already bustling, the morning hum of the city a sharp contrast to the quiet of the room. Logan lit a cigar, taking a slow drag as he leaned against the railing.

No matter how many lives you lived, some things about you never changed—the way you tilted your head when you were lost in thought, the soft curve of your smile, the determination in your voice when you talked about something you were passionate about. It was those small consistencies that kept pulling him back to you, no matter how hard he tried to stay away.

When he finally reentered the room, the sunlight had grown brighter, filtering through the sheer curtains and spilling across the bed. You were starting to stir, your hand brushing against the pillow where his head had been moments earlier. Logan sat in the chair by the small table, keeping a casual distance as he watched you slowly blink awake.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low but warm.

You stretched slightly, rubbing at your eyes before adjusting your glasses. “Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still laced with sleep. You glanced over at him, your cheeks flushing faintly when you noticed how closely he was watching you.

“You ready for today?” he asked, his tone deliberately casual. He leaned back in the chair, the cigar long gone, but the faint scent of smoke still lingered around him.

You nodded, though there was a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. “I think so. Just… need a little coffee first,” you added with a shy smile.

Logan stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll get us some,” he offered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You just focus on getting ready.”

You watched him as he moved toward the door, your smile growing a little softer. “Thanks, Logan.”

He paused, glancing back at you with that familiar warmth in his gaze. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

---

You took another glance at Logan, who was seated beside you, looking ahead at the stage where Roger Koch was going to talk about dc SQUID Qubit’s.

“You didn’t have to come with me to see these talks,” you said, tilting your head slightly to look at Logan.

The two of you were seated toward the back of the conference room, a relatively quiet spot where Logan could stay unnoticed while still keeping a clear line of sight on everything. Not that anyone here would recognize him—he doubted quantum physicists ran in the same circles as mutants with claws and anger issues—but old habits died hard.

He leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out in that effortless, Logan way, arms crossed. His eyes flicked to yours, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “Didn’t seem right, lettin’ you fly cross-country alone,” he replied, his voice low, just loud enough for you to hear over the murmur of the crowd.

You blinked, a little surprised at his candor. “It’s not like I haven’t done things on my own before,” you said softly, adjusting your glasses out of habit.

Logan shrugged. “I know that.” His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that always sent a little flutter through your chest before you could tamp it down. “But maybe I didn’t feel like sittin’ around the mansion while you were out here. Figured someone oughta keep an eye on you.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the small smile tugging at your lips. “Keep an eye on me? Logan, this is a science conference, not a battlefield.”

“Still plenty that could go wrong,” he said, the smirk fading as his voice took on a softer, almost serious edge. He didn’t elaborate, but the meaning lingered between you.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure how to respond. You weren’t used to this kind of protectiveness—it wasn’t overbearing, exactly, but it felt... personal. A little too personal for someone you’d only known for a few months.

“Well,” you said finally, keeping your tone light, “I hope you don’t regret it. Physics lectures aren’t exactly your scene.”

Logan gave a short, quiet laugh. “I’ll survive.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before drifting to the front of the room. “Besides, not like I’m here for the science.”

Your cheeks warmed at the implication, and you quickly turned your attention back to your notebook, pretending to jot something down. Logan didn’t need to know how those little comments of his threw you off balance.

The lights dimmed slightly as the speaker, Roger Koch, took the stage. You straightened in your seat, trying to focus on the introduction, but it was hard to ignore Logan’s presence beside you—the subtle way his shoulders shifted, the quiet rhythm of his breathing.

It wasn’t fair, really, how easily he unsettled you. And yet, somehow, it felt... familiar, even if you couldn’t place why.

As the talk went on, Logan didn’t make a sound. But every so often, out of the corner of your eye, you could see him glance your way. It was subtle—nothing anyone else would notice—but it sent a quiet thrill through you every time.

By the time the presentation ended, the room buzzed with quiet chatter as people began to stand and stretch. Logan leaned closer to you, his voice low. “You catch all that?”

“Most of it,” you said, closing your notebook and giving him a small smile. “You?”

His smirk was back, teasing. “Not a damn word.”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “Why’d you even come, then?”

Logan shrugged, standing and slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Told you. I’m not here for the lectures.”

You shook your head, but the warmth in his tone lingered, chasing away the awkwardness.

“And the next one is…” he looked down at the pamphlet but didn’t say anything, his brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend the words on the paper.

“Rabi Oscillations in a Large Josephson Junction Qubit,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. Your eyes flickered back to Logan, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You really don’t care about that talk, do you?”

Logan just shrugged, unfazed, his lips curling into a grin that made your heart skip. "Nah," he said simply, as though that was all there was to it. "Not my thing."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a soft warmth in your gaze as you looked at him. You had to admit, it was hard not to be aware of him, even in the middle of a room full of physicists discussing things you could barely wrap your head around. It wasn’t just that Logan had a presence that drew attention. It was the way he made you feel seen, even in a crowd.

Still, you tried to refocus on the upcoming lecture, shifting in your seat and tapping your pen against your notebook. The faintest flicker of discomfort crossed your mind as you realized you had no idea why you were even thinking about him this much, especially when you needed to be thinking about work.

Logan, meanwhile, seemed to have a permanent attachment to his casual indifference, but you noticed his gaze flicker to you again as you adjusted your glasses. His smile, small and knowing, stayed just at the edges of his lips, a quiet contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

"So," Logan began, stretching his legs out even more, "what else is on your little agenda for today?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how interested he seemed in your plans, despite the fact that he'd already admitted this wasn’t his idea of a good time. “You really want to know?”

“Why not?” He gave you a small shrug, making it clear he wasn’t just asking out of courtesy.

You hesitated. Your typical habit was to keep things close to your chest, but for some reason, you felt a little more open with him. Maybe it was the fact that you’d been awake for the better part of the night on the flight out, or that Logan, for all his gruffness, wasn’t like most people you met. And it wasn't just because he was a member of the X-Men—there was something more. Something you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I think there's a session on quantum coherence in the afternoon," you said, glancing down at your schedule. "And then the poster session afterward. You’re probably gonna get bored quickly with all of that."

A slight laugh rumbled in his chest. "Guess I’ll have to keep my eye out for any... interesting distractions," he said, his voice low and just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

You pretended not to notice the way his words lingered in the air between you, but you couldn’t quite hide the slight flush that creeped up your cheeks. It was... impossible not to notice him when he spoke like that.

The conversation drifted back to the talk as the lights dimmed once again, signaling the start of the next presentation. Logan��s eyes never fully left you, even as the speaker began his complex talk on quantum information systems. His gaze, though, was softened now, absent of the usual intensity. It was as if, in the span of a few moments, he'd gone from being the aloof, silent protector to someone who just... wanted to be near you.

The thought crossed your mind unbidden—Could he be like this with anyone? Or was it only you?

But before you could chase the thought any further, the speaker’s voice became the focus of the room again, and you pushed the lingering thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand.

---

After what felt like hours—though you knew it had only been a couple—you were finally able to slip out of the conference hall. The speaker had wrapped up, and you both decided it was time for a break. The session wasn’t your favorite, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved to step out into the cool California air.

“You don’t need to keep me company, you know,” you said, a little sheepishly, as Logan followed you down the hallway, close enough that his shadow loomed over yours.

His hand brushed against yours lightly, almost absentmindedly. “Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Least you could do?” you chuckled, giving him a teasing look over your shoulder. “You’re already here. What more could you possibly do?”

Logan’s lips curled into a faint smile at your teasing tone, though there was something different in his expression. "Maybe I just like being close to you."

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned your gaze forward, your cheeks warming despite your best attempts to hide it. “You sure it’s not just the coffee you're after?”

“Could be," he replied, his tone low but warm, almost as if he didn’t mind the teasing. "Could be.”

There was something in his voice, a hint of something unsaid, but you didn't push him on it. Instead, you focused on the coffee stand ahead of you, grateful for the distraction.

---

The week was over, and you both made it back to the mansion late in the evening. You stepped through the double doors of the X-Mansion, feeling the warmth of familiarity wrap around you after days of being surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Logan trailed behind, carrying both your duffle and his, despite your protests on the ride back.

“Seriously, I can carry my own bag,” you muttered as you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Don’t mention it, darlin’,” Logan replied casually, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He didn’t bother to look back as he headed toward the main staircase, your bag still slung effortlessly over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, pulling into a small, amused smile. It was hard to stay annoyed at him when he insisted on doing little things like that.

“Jean’s in the rec room,” Logan said as you both turned toward the hall.

“How can you possibly know that?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He just tapped his nose in response, grinning in that way he always did when he knew something you didn’t.

When you walked into the rec room, Jean was exactly where Logan had said she’d be—curled up on one of the couches with a book in her lap. She glanced up as you entered, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey! You’re back!” Jean closed her book and stood, crossing the room to pull you into a warm hug. “How was the conference?”

“Pretty great,” you said, grinning as you reached into the bag Logan had just set down. You pulled out a navy-blue baseball cap embroidered with the words Quantum Information Science in bold white letters and plopped it onto her head.

Jean laughed, adjusting the cap so it sat properly. “Oh, wow. I feel smarter already.”

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a quiet smirk on his face as he watched the two of you.

Jean’s eyes flickered to him briefly before settling back on you. “Did Logan behave himself?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, your cheeks warming slightly. “He was fine. Kept me company during some of the talks, even if I don’t think he understood a word of them.”

“I understood plenty,” Logan said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Like how coffee’s the most important part of any conference.”

Jean laughed softly and shook her head. “Sounds about right.”

You reached into your bag again, this time pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. “Oh, and I got you this,” you said, handing it to her.

Jean’s eyes lit up with curiosity as she unwrapped the package to reveal a sleek pen with her name engraved on the side. “This is beautiful. Thank you, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, brushing off her gratitude with a shy smile.

Logan watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned toward the door. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

As he disappeared down the hallway, Jean turned to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “He’s been hanging around you a lot lately.”

You busied yourself with unpacking, trying to ignore the faint heat creeping up your neck. “We were just at the conference together. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” Jean said, her tone teasing but not pushy.

“Don’t start,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

Jean laughed softly, giving you a look that said she wasn’t going to let this go so easily. But for now, she dropped the subject, slipping the cap off her head and setting it on the coffee table.

“Alright, I’ll let it slide—this time. But only because I want to hear about all the science stuff I missed.”

You smiled, settling onto the couch beside her and launching into a recap of the conference, doing your best to keep the focus on the lectures and not the way Logan had stayed by your side through it all.

---

You were sitting on the bed with Jean when the first sneeze happened. You had just been telling her about how you were up with Jubilee last night since she caught a cold from Kitty, and now you hoped you weren’t getting sick.

Jean raised an eyebrow from her dresser, where the soft glow of a candle flickered against the room’s walls. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her expression shifting to mild concern as she turned to face you.

“Y/N, don’t tell me you’re catching what Jubilee had,” she said, folding her arms as she leaned back against the dresser.

You sniffled, rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand. “I don’t know. Maybe? She sneezed on me last night, and I don’t have a healing factor like Logan.”

Jean grimaced in sympathy and gestured for you to sit. “Well, you’re not about to suffer alone. Sit. Let me check.”

“Jean, I’m fine. It’s probably just a tickle.” But you obediently perched on the edge of her bed, watching as she crossed the room with her usual calm precision.

She pressed the back of her hand to your forehead, her cool touch a stark contrast to the faint warmth radiating from your skin. You crinkled your nose at the sensation, and she laughed softly. “You’re warm. Not quite a fever, but you should rest. I can cover your classes tomorrow if it gets worse.”

You started to protest, but she waved you off. “Don’t argue. If you’re sick, the students will survive one day without you explaining quantum mechanics.”

Your lips quirked up in a small smile. “Thanks, Jean. I owe you.”

“Always,” she replied lightly, moving back to the dresser. As she fiddled with the candle wick, she glanced at you. “Do you need anything? Tea? Soup?”

You shook your head, but just as you opened your mouth to respond, another sneeze caught you off guard. Jean sighed dramatically. “I’m taking that as a yes to tea.”

Before Jean could head to the kitchen, there was a knock at the doorframe. Both of you turned to see Scott leaning casually against it, arms crossed as a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you caught it now,” he said, nodding toward you.

“Caught what?” you asked, sniffling as you dabbed at your nose with a tissue.

“Whatever Jubilee had. She’s been sneezing all over the place like it’s her mutant power,” Scott replied, stepping into his and Jean’s shared room. He glanced at Jean. “Is it serious?”

Jean shook her head, giving you a playful yet sympathetic look. “Not yet. She’s warm, but I don’t think it’s a fever. Just a little rest and tea, and she’ll be fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you muttered, though another sneeze betrayed you mid-sentence. You groaned softly and dropped your head into your hands. “Okay, maybe a little tea wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll get it,” Scott said, surprising you. He glanced back at Jean, giving her a small smile. “You stay. I can handle tea duty.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “You? Making tea?”

“I’ve watched you do it enough times. How hard can it be?” he shot back, his tone light. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of you alone again.

You leaned back against the bed’s headboard, glancing at Jean. “Is it just me, or was that oddly thoughtful?”

Jean shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Scott can be thoughtful when he wants to be. He’s just not great at showing it all the time.” She perched on the edge of the bed, studying you. “But enough about him. What about you? When did you start feeling off?”

You shrugged. “Probably this morning. I thought it was just because I didn’t sleep well. Jubilee was up half the night, and I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

Jean smiled gently, nudging your arm. “You’re too nice sometimes, Y/N. It’s okay to put yourself first every now and then.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time a student sneezes directly into my face,” you replied dryly, earning a soft laugh from her.

---

The soft clink of glass against your nightstand roused you from sleep. Blinking through the haze, you squinted at the figure in your room. Even in your half-conscious state, there was no mistaking the broad frame, the wild hair, or the quiet, almost protective presence.

“Logan?” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a croak, as you shifted to prop yourself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, darlin’. It’s me,” he said, keeping his voice low. He straightened, setting down the glass of water and the small plastic cup with pills inside. “Figured you could use these.”

You blinked at the items, then at him, confusion mixing with an embarrassing sense of gratitude. “How did you know I wasn’t feeling well?”

He shrugged, his eyes scanning your face briefly before resting on the nightstand. “Jean mentioned it when I ran into her. Said you might need some downtime.”

“Oh,” you murmured, sinking back against your pillows. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t say I had to,” he cut in, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Wanted to.”

That simple statement left you momentarily speechless. You weren’t used to this—the small, subtle gestures that showed he cared in his own quiet way. Finally, you managed a faint smile. “That’s... really nice of you.”

Logan chuckled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Nice, huh? Don’t let that get around. Got a reputation to uphold.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound dissolving into a cough that you quickly muffled with the crook of your arm. Logan’s brow furrowed, the teasing edge slipping from his expression.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him, though your voice wavered just slightly. “Just need some rest. And maybe a hazmat suit next time Jubilee gets sick.”

That earned a low chuckle from him, and the sound sent a strange warmth curling in your chest. He pushed off the wall, his boots heavy but quiet against the floor as he approached your bed.

“Take the meds, Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “And drink the water. No arguing.”

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, though there was no bite in your tone. Reaching for the cup, you downed the pills with a grimace and a sip of water. When you glanced back at him, his gaze hadn’t shifted.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, setting the glass back on the nightstand. “Better.”

Logan lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you weren’t bluffing. Finally, he nodded, stepping back toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” he said gruffly, though his voice held an unexpected warmth.

“Logan,” you called softly before he could leave. He paused in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway. His head turned slightly, his sharp eyes flicking back to meet yours. “You can… stay if you want—or, uh, can you stay?”

The words tumbled out of you, shy but sincere, and you weren’t entirely sure what you expected. Logan hesitated, his fingers flexing slightly as they rested on the doorframe.

“I don’t wanna bother you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“You won’t,” you said quickly, the corners of your lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “I mean, unless you snore.”

That earned a faint chuckle from him. “You’re the one who’s sick, darlin’. Sure it’s not the other way around?”

You laughed softly, the sound fading into a sniffle. “Jean says I get cuddly when I’m sick,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your blanket. “Last time, she stayed in here with me instead of with Scott.”

Logan’s brows lifted at that, a mix of surprise and something else flickering in his expression. He stepped fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Alright,” he said after a long moment. “But if I’m stayin’, you’re restin’. Deal?”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the bed as Logan pulled up the chair from the corner of the room. He turned it backward, settling into it with his arms crossed over the back.

But the sight of him there—close, but not close enough—made you hesitate. Gathering your courage, you patted the empty space on the bed beside you. “You could sit here, you know. It’s more comfortable than that chair.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the spot, then back to you. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Logan studied you for a moment longer before nodding. He rose from the chair and approached the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat on the edge. When he didn’t move further, you reached out and tugged lightly on his sleeve.

“You don’t bite, do you?” you teased, the shyness in your voice tempered by a touch of humor.

That coaxed a smirk from him. “Not unless I’m provoked.”

You rolled your eyes but shifted to give him more room. What he didn’t expect—what surprised him to his core—was the way you shifted closer, curling into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your head rested on his shoulder, and one of your hands lightly gripped the fabric of his shirt.

“Jean was right,” you murmured sleepily, the warmth of him lulling you into comfort. “I do get cuddly when I’m sick.”

Logan swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing as he glanced down at you. His arm, tentative at first, came up to wrap around your shoulders, his hand resting lightly against your arm. His heart, which had weathered over a century of battles and losses, seemed to ache in a way it hadn’t in decades. Not since the last time you’d smiled at him like that—lifetimes ago.

“You’re fine, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a rumble. “Get some rest.”

You hummed in response, already half-asleep, your breathing steadying as you settled deeper into his side. Logan leaned his head back against the headboard, the faint scent of your shampoo lingering in the air between you.

He couldn’t remember where he was born. Couldn’t remember the faces of his parents, or the details of any life he’d had before them. But he remembered you—every life, every smile, every loss.

And as you rested against him, Logan vowed silently that this time, he’d do everything in his power to protect you. For as long as he could, for as long as fate allowed, he’d stay by your side.

---

Logan opened the kitchen door, his palm resting against it until it clicked open fully. You walked through without hesitation, balancing a pile of graded papers in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. Your focus was elsewhere, likely on your day’s agenda, leaving you unaware of the small effort he made to keep the door steady for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured absently, not looking back as you continued into the hallway.

Logan followed behind, his boots a quiet, steady rhythm on the floor. He didn’t respond, didn’t need to—you’d said the same thing a dozen times this week alone, and each time, you hadn’t quite noticed who you were thanking. His lips tugged into a faint smirk as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

The hallway was bustling with students heading to classes, some chatting animatedly, others juggling books or laptops. Logan stepped closer to your side, subtly adjusting his pace to match yours as the two of you navigated the crowd.

One of the students, a wiry teenager with goggles perched on his head, nearly stumbled into you as he fiddled with a small gadget in his hands. Logan’s hand shot out, a firm but careful grip on your elbow guiding you out of the boy’s path.

“Eyes up,” Logan said, his tone gruff but not harsh.

“Sorry, Mr. Logan!” He called back, clutching his gadget and scurrying off.

You glanced up, startled for a moment, before flashing Logan a small, grateful smile. “That kid’s going to accidentally build a time machine one day.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. “Probably already did. Just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

You shook your head, your smile lingering as you shifted the papers under your arm. Logan stayed close as the two of you weaved through the remaining students. When you reached the door to your classroom, you paused, glancing at him as he leaned against the frame.

“You’re not my shadow, are you?” you teased, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Guess you’d know if I was,” he quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged the door open with your shoulder, juggling your tea and papers. Before you could get too far, Logan’s hand darted out, steadying the door before it could swing back against you.

“Thanks again,” you said, the words automatic as you made your way inside.

This time, Logan didn’t reply, watching as you set your things down on your desk and began sorting through them. You were focused, your brow furrowing slightly as you pulled a red pen from the pocket of your blazer and began marking something on one of the papers. He didn’t interrupt, but he didn’t leave either, leaning against the doorframe and letting his gaze linger just long enough to notice, once again, the faint sheen of gloss on your lips.

Logan clenched his jaw, willing the thought away as he straightened and stepped into the room. “You eat anything yet?”

“Hm?” You glanced up, your pen pausing mid-sentence. “Oh, uh, not yet. I’ve got a granola bar somewhere.”

Logan raised a brow, unimpressed. “That’s not breakfast, Y/N.”

“It’s close enough,” you argued, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

“C’mon,” Logan said, jerking his head toward the hallway. “Kitchen’s still got pancakes out.”

You hesitated, glancing between your papers and the door. “I should really get through these—”

“They’ll wait,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “And so will the kids. You’re not gonna teach ‘em anything on an empty stomach.”

You sighed, relenting with a small smile. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

Logan smirked, stepping aside to let you pass before falling into step behind you. As the two of you walked, he couldn’t help the faint sense of satisfaction that crept over him.

You might not have noticed the small things—the doors, the guiding hand, the way he made sure to keep you in his sight in a crowd—but he did. He noticed everything, because every moment with you, no matter how ordinary, felt like a fleeting gift.

And if there was one thing Logan had learned in the countless lifetimes he’d lived, it was how to savor the things worth remembering.

---

You sat on the bench in the Danger Room, the kids, Rogue, Bobby, Peter, and Kitty, had just left, Jean and Ororo behind them.

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your water bottle, clutched between your hands.

Jean leaned against the bench beside you, her expression calm but thoughtful as she took in your posture—the hunched shoulders, the downturned gaze on the water bottle cradled in your hands.

"Rough session?" she asked gently, her voice breaking the quiet.

You exhaled slowly, barely lifting your head. "Not rough. Just... pointless."

Jean frowned, shifting slightly to face you more directly. "Pointless? You’re one of the smartest people here, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you handle yourself in simulations. You’re anything but pointless."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Simulations are one thing. But in real life, what can I do? Everyone else has powers that actually help in a fight. Logan, you, Ororo... even Bobby. And then there’s me—slowing down time but not actually stopping anything from happening. It’s like... I’m just a delay button, not a solution."

Jean tilted her head, her brows knitting in concern. "You don’t think slowing time is a solution?"

"Not when it’s all I can do," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t fight. I can’t stop an attack. I can’t... save anyone. Not really."

Jean was quiet for a moment, her gaze softening. When she spoke again, her tone was steady but full of warmth. "Y/N, the reason so many of us are still here—why we’ve survived the fights we’ve been through—is because of people like you. People who think ahead, who create opportunities for the rest of us to make it out alive. Slowing time isn’t just a delay; it’s giving us a chance to breathe, to act, to survive."

You didn’t look up, but her words seemed to reach you, making your grip on the water bottle loosen slightly. Jean shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

"You’ve saved people more times than you realize," she continued. "It’s easy to think that because you’re not throwing punches or shooting fire, you’re not contributing. But the truth is, without you, a lot of us wouldn’t have the chance to do those things in the first place."

You blinked, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. "I just... feel like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Jean’s hand squeezed your arm gently, grounding you. "I’ve known you long enough to know that’s not true. And I think, deep down, you know it too. It’s not about being like everyone else, Y/N. It’s about being you—and using what you have to make a difference. And you do make a difference."

Her words hung in the air, settling in your chest like a quiet reassurance. You nodded slowly, still unsure but comforted nonetheless.

"You’re not alone in this," Jean added softly, her gaze turning slightly distant as if searching for something she couldn’t quite grasp. "We’re a team, and we’ve got your back. Just like you’ve got ours."

You managed a small, grateful smile, finally looking up at her. "Thanks, Jean. Really."

She smiled back, but there was something in her eyes—a flicker of something not quite Jean. It passed quickly, but not before you noticed it.

"You’ll see," she said, her tone steady again. "You’re stronger than you think."

And as she rose from the bench, her hand briefly brushing against your shoulder, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her words meant more than she let on. As if she knew something neither of you could quite explain.

---

You were making a simple pasta dish for yourself for dinner, it’s not something you do often, but since you didn’t have anything to do this Saturday night, you thought ‘why not?’

The pasta was almost done, the garlic and onions were caramelized in the pan, and now all you needed was the small can of tomato paste in the cupboard, way above your head.

You got on your tiptoes and reached up, your fingers grazing the can but unable to fully grasp it. You let out a huff as you stood back on your feet, frustration bubbling.

“Fine,” you muttered, glancing at the counter. Climbing up was starting to look like your only option.

You grabbed the edge of the counter and were just about to boost yourself up when a low voice from behind startled you.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?”

You spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Logan leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He looked like he’d been there for a moment, just watching.

“I—uh,” you stammered, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Logan pushed off the frame, walking toward you in that unhurried way of his. “Not my fault you’re so focused on... whatever it is you’re makin’ over there.” His eyes flicked to the stove before landing back on you. “What’s goin’ on? You stuck?”

You folded your arms, trying to mask your embarrassment. “I can get it. I was just about to—”

“Climb up there like a squirrel?” Logan teased, one brow arching. Without waiting for your reply, he stepped closer, his hand settled on your lower back as he reached over your head. Logan held the can of tomato paste out to you, the smirk still lingering as his eyes scanned your face. “There. Easy enough, yeah?”

You took the can from his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers brush against yours. “I had it under control,” you replied, though your tone lacked conviction.

“Sure, sweetheart.” His voice was low and teasing, but not mocking. “Looked like you were about to break out a ladder for that one.”

Your cheeks flushed as you turned toward the stove, trying to focus on your cooking rather than the way his presence seemed to fill the room. “Thanks, though,” you muttered, keeping your back to him.

“Don’t mention it.” Logan didn’t move away, instead leaning against the counter beside you, watching as you added the paste to the pan. “So, this what you do for fun on a Saturday night? Whip up a fancy dinner for one?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Not exactly. Just didn’t feel like the dining hall tonight.” You stirred the mixture, trying not to let his teasing tone get to you. “Besides, it’s not that fancy.”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Smells pretty damn good for ‘not that fancy.’”

You felt your lips twitch into a small smile despite yourself. “It’s just pasta.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still impressed.” He nodded toward the pan. “You always this good in the kitchen, or is this a one-time thing?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Definitely not a regular thing. Usually, I stick to coffee and toast.”

“Figures.” Logan reached over, snagging a piece of garlic bread from the plate on the counter before you could stop him. He took a bite, his smirk deepening. “Not bad, though. You might be sellin’ yourself short.”

“Hey!” You playfully swatted at his arm. “That’s supposed to go with dinner.”

He held the bread just out of your reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m just helpin’ you taste-test. Gotta make sure it’s up to standard.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Fine. Just don’t eat all of it.”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, raising his free hand in mock sincerity before taking another bite.

You turned your attention back to the stove, but you were acutely aware of Logan’s lingering gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it was grounding, like he was anchoring you in the moment. Still, it made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, less teasing. “What’re you doin’ with the rest of your night?”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the bubbling sauce. “Probably nothing. Maybe read a little.”

“That Physics of Time book you’re always lugging around?”

You blinked at him in surprise. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to.” He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to that rough, intimate tone that always seemed to make your pulse quicken. “You carry it like it’s part of you.”

“Well, it’s... interesting,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And, you know, kind of relevant.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess it is, huh? Still, doesn’t sound like much of a Saturday night. You ever think about takin’ a break? Havin’ some fun?”

Your lips parted, caught off guard by the question. “I... guess I just don’t think about it much.”

He tilted his head, studying you with a look that felt uncomfortably close to knowing. “Maybe you should. Life’s short, darlin’.”

You couldn’t help the small, ironic smile that tugged at your lips. “Coming from you?”

His expression softened, something almost wistful flickering in his eyes. “Even for me.”

The moment hung between you, quiet and heavy, until the sauce began to hiss and pop, snapping you back to the present. You turned to the stove, giving the pot a quick stir. “You staying for dinner, or was this just a drive-by teasing?”

Logan smirked, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Depends. You invitin’ me?”

You hesitated, then glanced at him over your shoulder. “Maybe.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, you saw something behind it—a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to say. “Guess I’ll stick around then.”

You turned the burner off before going to a bottom cabinet and pressing the wall inside, revealing five wine glasses and a bottle of wine. You grabbed two glasses and the bottle before placing them on the counter.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “so there is alcohol here.”

You chuckled, “it’s mine and Jean’s secret. We had Scott build a secret compartment a while ago for us.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk as he reached for the wine bottle. “Scott, huh? He’s got a soft spot for his favorite students, I take it?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling a corkscrew from the drawer. “More like Jean batted her eyelashes, and he caved. I’m just lucky to reap the benefits.”

“Smart move.” Logan opened the bottle with ease, the cork popping with a soft thwip. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Logan poured two glasses, sliding one toward you. “Don’t sell yourself short. A secret wine stash, cooking skills you claim are ‘basic,’ and a brain that can bend time—pretty damn impressive if you ask me.”

You laughed softly, taking the glass. “When you put it like that, it sounds cooler than it is.”

Logan lifted his glass, his eyes meeting yours over the rim. “Trust me, it’s cool.”

For a moment, you were caught in his gaze, the easy confidence in his expression making your pulse quicken. Then you shook your head, breaking the moment. “Okay, well, to secret wine stashes and mediocre pasta.”

Logan clinked his glass against yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

You both took a sip, the smooth wine adding a warmth that settled over you as the night unfolded. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you plate the pasta and sauce. You felt his presence like a magnet, steady and impossible to ignore. When you finally handed him a plate, he took it with a nod of thanks, heading toward the table without being asked.

“You always this much of a gentleman?” you teased, carrying your own plate to the table.

“Depends who I’m with,” Logan replied, pulling out your chair. His voice was casual, but there was a weight behind the words that made your breath hitch.

You settled into your seat, trying not to overthink it. “Guess I should feel special then.”

“You should,” Logan said simply, taking the seat across from you. He didn’t elaborate, but the look he gave you said plenty.

The two of you ate in companionable silence for a moment before Logan spoke again. “Jean know you’re hiding wine from her boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on your pasta. “She’s the one who helped me hide it! I’m not about to risk her wrath by spilling the secret.”

Logan chuckled, his grin wide. “Good to know you’ve got a rebellious streak.”

“It’s not rebellion,” you said, twirling your fork. “It’s... strategic resource allocation.”

He laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, ranging from light teasing about your cooking to him recounting a story about a bar fight he once got into over a bad jukebox selection. You found yourself relaxing, the usual shyness that often held you back melting away under Logan’s steady, easy presence.

After dinner, you leaned back in your chair, sipping the last of your wine. “Thanks for sticking around. It was... nice.”

“Nice, huh?” Logan leaned back, resting his arm on the back of his chair. “High praise.”

You laughed softly. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” His tone softened, and his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary. “You’re good company, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short on that either.”

You ducked your head, hiding your smile behind your glass. “Thanks.”

Logan stood, gathering both plates before you could protest. “I’ll get these.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut you off gently, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You watched him move to the sink, his broad shoulders a comforting presence even as he washed the dishes. A warmth settled in your chest that had nothing to do with the wine.

For the first time in a long time, the quiet of a Saturday night didn’t feel so lonely.

And Logan had to ignore the faint pink stain on your wine glass in the shape of your lips.

remember to go read the next chapter for the full story!

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

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ch6rm · 28 days ago

Text

✧ ࣪˖ how angel!reader & dealer!chris met

˖ soph's note yayyy first blurb about this au, it's a bit longer than i intended (oops) but more coming soon i promise <3

the music thudded through the walls, the house packed with people you didn’t know. it wasn’t your scene—not really. your friend had begged you to come, promising it would be fun. instead, it was a bunch of people spilling drinks everywhere and messily making out in every corner of the house. not really your jam, but you made the best out of it.

you wove through the crowd, flashing friendly smiles and striking up conversations with anyone who didn't seem insanely drunk. you had no idea where your friend disappeared to—probably off to hook up with some guy. you figured you might as well make some new friends while you were at it.

after chatting with a couple of people about nothing in particular, you spotted a quieter corner of the house. as you approached, you noticed a guy lounging on a worn-out sofa, a back beanie on his head and a joint resting between his fingers. another guy sitting beside him slid him some cash before getting up and strolling away. it clicked in your head, and you realized they were probably doing some sort of drug deal. maybe you should have walked away, but there was something intriguing about him, and you found yourself walking over.

he looked up, anticipating the sight of someone wanting to make a deal, but instead, he was met with a girl who looked way too carefree for this scene, bright smile cutting through dim light of the room.

"can i sit?" you asked, watching as his eyebrows shot up in slight surprise. you almost expected him to say no, but after a moment he gestured with his hand and invited you to take a seat. you settled down beside him, the worn fabric of the couch slightly rough against your skin. he didn't say a word as you sat, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. you figured he probably didn't want some random girl sitting down next to him, no intention of buying anything he's got, but you couldn't help but steal glances at him, intrigued by his laid-back demeanor.

he finally looked over at you, and there was something in his gaze—a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. “what’s your deal?” he asked. you blinked at him, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question.

“my deal?”

“yeah,” he said, nodding toward the crowd. “why're you sitting here?”

you shrugged, offering a small smile, unfazed by his tone. "why not? i was bored of walking around.”

he hummed, taking a slow drag from his joint. the smoke curled up into the air, mingling with the heavy beat of the music. “so, you sat next to a stranger with a joint and a wad of cash? bold choice.”

you pursed your lips at his statement, before glancing around the room. after a moment of silence, you looked back at him and spoke up. "okay... well, we don't have to be strangers. what's your name?"

he raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. he had expected you to take the hint and leave. “chris,” he replied, the edge in his voice still present. “and you really think it’s safe to sit here?”

you almost laugh at his question, a smile finding it's way to your face. “safe?” you echoed, not missing a beat. “oh, come on. what’s the worst that could happen? you sell me some bad stuff?”

chris let out a low chuckle, clearly amused despite himself. “yeah, that’s definitely one way to look at it.”

“well, i’m not too worried about it. i don't get into that stuff.” you said, gesturing toward the table in front of him. a silence settled between you again, and you realized he wasn't much of a talker. that didn't stop you though. after his lack of response, you spoke up again and told him your name.

eventually, the tension in chris’s posture began to fade away—the edge in his voice disappearing as you began to chat. once you started talking, it was kind of hard to get you to stop. he didn’t offer much at first, but his occasional chuckles and quiet remarks kept the conversation moving.

“are you always this chatty with strangers?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"sure, but aren't strangers anymore, remember?" you say.

he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “guess not,” he muttered, leaning back against the couch and still watching you with that same curious look. "what are we then? friends?" he says, his tone laced with slight sarcasm.

you grinned, "yeah, friends.”

there was a brief silence as chris looked at you, like he was contemplating something. after a moment, he let out a quiet laugh. “alright, sure. friends it is.” he wasn’t one to make friends at parties where he was dealing—especially not sweet girls like you. but, for some reason, the idea didn’t seem all that bad.

as the night dragged on, you checked your phone, realizing it was getting late. “i should probably head out,” you said, standing up. chris looked at you for a moment before he stood up and flicked the ash off his joint, setting it in the ashtray.

“i’ll walk you out.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by his proposition. “don't worry, you don’t have to-”

"it's fine, c'mon," he shrugged nonchalantly, already beginning to walk off. you smiled at his words, immediately nodding.

“okay!”

you both made your way through the house, the noise of the party fading as you stepped outside. the cool night air hit you, and soon, you were standing next to your car.

“well,” you said, unlocking the door. “i'll see you around, then?” you hoped you would—he was the only person at this party you’d actually enjoyed talking to, and you'd even forgotten the part where he was a drug dealer. normally, you’d be a little apprehensive, but with him, you didn’t feel an ounce of fear.

chris gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable as he watched you. "yeah," he said, his voice low. "see you around."

🏷️ @sweetestpoetic | comment here or interact with this post to be added to my taglist

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mattybsgroupie · 2 months ago

Note

Thoughs on milf reader x shy Chris

many, many thoughts. enough thoughts for a fic, perhaps…..

edit: the fic was written. HERE

chris never fails to make you laugh. he’s younger than you, but that doesn’t make him any less attractive. you daughter introduced him as a friend and he’d often come over to play video games or just hangout, and whenever your daughter was upstairs, getting ready to go out or busy with something else, chris would keep you company at the kitchen.

until he came over while your daughter was traveling with her father. you were home alone, and he knew it.

“hi, dear” you said while opening the door, the sweet yet sensual tone in your voice sending a shiver down chris’s spine.

“uhm, hey” he said, scratching the back of his head. you noticed how his fingers tangled on his hair — chris was tense. the other hand was placed inside his pocket and chris had his lips bruised from biting them all the time.

“she’s not here today, honey” you told him, thinking your daughter could’ve forgotten to tell him she’d be absent. “i know” chris answered on a firm voice, looking at you for the first time. “c-can i come in?”

you nodded and entered the house, waiting for chris to join you. he already knew the way to the kitchen and quietly followed you there. “i haven’t cooked since it’s just me” you said, noticing how his blue eyes scanned the empty table.

“oh” chris was caught off guard. “y-you don’t have to” he said. you raised an eyebrow and placed both of your hands on your hips, a classic mom pose. “i just like your food, that’s all” he looked away as you chuckled.

“oh, baby!” you said, opening your arms to give him a warm, tender hug. “fuck, don’t call me that” chris mumbled under his breath as you approached him. you clicked your tongue in disapproval, silently calling him out. you were the older one and he needed to show some respect.

that’s when you noticed it. you just glanced at him and said a few pet names, and there he was. hard, in front of you. you walked towards him in slow steps, the sound of your heels clacking on the floor. you placed you hand on his tummy and gradually lowered yourself to his boner, gently palming it.

“chris, what’s this?” you say as if you’re surprised. “you’re a naughty, naught boy” chris lets out a loud whimper, throwing his head back as he feels your hand around him for the first time.

“i just— ‘m s-sorry” he tried to speak when you finally got a proper grip of his cock, stroking him over his sweaters.

“are you?” you teased, getting inside his pants. you wrapped your knuckles around chris’s dick and place a kiss on his neck. you could feel his shaft covered in pre-cum, his cock twitching around your fist. “hm? what is it baby?”

“mommy” he let out without even thinking. his eyes were closed and his forehead was glued to your shoulder, his pathetic moans filling the quiet house. “‘m gonna cum!”

“is that why you came here, chris? you wanted mommy to take care of you?” you cooed, biting the exposed skin of his neck. with one last stroke, chris came all over your fingers.

the thick, sticky liquid covered your hand and dripped down his legs, staining his grey sweatpants. you brought your hand to your lips, licking all of his release. chris whimpered as he watched the scene, feeling his cock getting hard again.

poor little chris. he just needed mommy to make him feel good.

#ask maria #chris sturniolo smut #sub!chris #maria’s blurbs #chris x milf!reader

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superbat-lmao · 4 days ago

Text

Bruce shows up at the Kent farm because he wants Martha’s blessing to marry her son.

It’s an outdated custom, but Clark is sentimental about the oddest things, so Bruce resigns himself to it.

He made sure to show up in some of his most relaxed clothes and brought some of Alfred’s cooking. To anyone else he would appear to be any random passerby, which was the objective. Ma Kent expressed a distinct distaste for Bruce’s masks, either as Brucie or Batman.

It was difficult to hide his nerves.

He hoped by following all of her past critiques of him he would pass muster. You aren’t at a board meeting, million dollar suits have no place in a pig pen, or, You must bring that butler of yours with you, I would love to trade recipes.

When Martha eventually opened the door she smiled easily until she really took in his appearance.

“Bruce! What’s happened? Are you alright? Where’s Clark?”

Caught off guard, Bruce blinks.

“No Mrs. Kent, it’s just me. I had something I wanted to discuss with you-”

“Dressed like that? And what have you got there?”

“Alfred sent it with me. Everything’s alright, I just wanted to abide by your suggestions.”

He bears her scrutiny for 37 seconds before being ushered inside. He cannot stop himself from going over his actions and the best course for rectifying them. He is unaware of what would be a cause for such concern.

She fusses over him and Alfred’s dish until he is sat at her kitchen table, empty handed.

“So, Bruce, honey, what was it you wanted to talk about? Must be important if it got you to fly all the way out here by yourself. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, but you boys are a rare sight indeed these days.”

Without appearing obvious, Bruce tries to brace himself for a moment. The words are difficult for him to say, and Martha’s kindness has always been hard to bear the full brunt of.

“I had hoped to discuss something with you.”

There is no exasperated sigh, but he does see her patience at his silence as he tries to string together what he’d like to say.

“I would like to ask for your blessing.”

Martha’s eyebrows pinch together for less than a second before her face slackens in surprise. Bruce does his best not to fidget, or indeed move a muscle.

“My blessing.”

“Yes.”

“In marriage.”

“Yes.”

“To Clark.”

“Yes.”

Martha sits down on the chair across from him, keeping a hand on its armrest to steady herself.

“Goodness.”

Martha turns almost mechanically to face him. He still hasn’t moved.

“You haven’t discussed this with him?”

“Two years ago we discussed the institution of marriage and its surrounding customs as part of a mission involving marital law.”

“But you haven’t discussed the possibility of you two getting married on Earth?”

“No.”

Martha holds the fabric of the table cloth between her thumb and forefinger, pressing it against itself to make slow circles.

“Why do you think you need my blessing?”

There is a distinct pause as Bruce thinks this over.

“Clark values your opinion as well as Earth’s customs. It is not exactly standard practice, nor a custom rooted in a particularly ethical social mores, but it is one I think he would see sentimental value in. If I have overstepped-”

Martha is kind enough to cut him off.

“No, no, no. It’s just. You’ve really surprised me is all.”

“I will, of course, submit to any questions or trials you require to illustrate my sincerity.”

Her forehead wrinkles as her eyebrows race toward her hairline. It’s a look Clark has made after some of Bruce’s more severe injuries when he had suggested returning to patrol. It is endearing to see where he gets it from.

“Trials.”

“Any requirements or standards that I must meet.”

“Ah.”

They lapse back into silence for 3 minutes and 12 seconds before Martha sighs gently. A cold feeling passes through Bruce at the realization he has somehow already failed.

“I’m so sorry honey. This is just such a surprise. I think I have a couple of questions for you, but I had just never considered anyone would be asking for my blessing. Being a Mother of the groom doesn’t usually have that in the job description. Is there a reason you picked Earth customs instead of Kryptonian ones? Clark says you’ve spent an awful lot of time in that ship of his.”

“Kryptonian marriage customs do not place emphasis on courting rituals, only the ceremony itself. I had planned to ask Clark if he wanted us to follow them or incorporate them into Earth’s customs or even forgo customs altogether, but that’s only a consideration if he accepts. As it stands, I would estimate there are two aspects of Kryptonian marriage customs he would likely incorporate and a majority he would be disinclined to, given his current frequency of preference for Earth customs. Although I have prepared everything in case he does wish to follow Kryptonian customs.”

“Prepared everything?”

“I would have to substitute the Hall of Justice for the Palace of Marriage, but I have done my best to acquire a jewel from Diana that could stand in for the Jewel of Truth and Honor. I have also acquired rings or bands to the specifications of custom, depending on his preference, and commissioned the parental statues.”

“Parental statues-?”

“However, I estimate that Clark would choose that option if Superman got married. I believe his original preference would be to have a ceremony here. Though if he agreed to a ceremony with media presence, it would likely be at the manor. I do think he may find three separate weddings to be excessive, but if he did want more I would be willing to-”

“Bruce!”

He paused, looking up from the checkered pattern of the tablecloth to see Martha smiling, faintly. The cold feeling had spread while he was talking and he tried to push it away.

“Honey, I think I’ve done a poor job of this. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a shock, you showing up here dressed like you work in town, with a home cooked meal and detailed wedding plans, but you must forgive me. I feel my age catching up to me sometimes and it can take a minute for my brain to catch up with you youngsters.”

She rubbed at her eyes for a moment before continuing.

“Lord knows that Clark was always an idealist, he was a happy child who loved so much. I used to quite literally have to ask him to come down from the clouds.”

“I don’t think I have ever met another person as grounded as you are. Literally, Clark has told me stories about that cave of yours. All that to say, in my own marriage, Jonathan and I tried to strike a balance.”

She paused, looking out the window in the kitchen for a moment.

“I think the both of you have polar opposite approaches to the same thing. That your practicality balances out his optimism. And that he is a counterbalance to your cynicism.”

“I am so proud of the both of you boys. To have found each other and support each other. That boy loves absolutely, and while I can’t speak for him, I would support him in whatever decision he would make.”

“But I have also come to know you and your children. I see your dedication and commitment to everything you put your mind to. Family is important to you, and I am glad my son has met someone who loves as fiercely as he does, even if it looks a little different on the outside.”

Martha’s hand reaches across the table and folds neatly over his own. Bruce finds it’s the easiest thing in the world to match her smile.

“Of course you have my blessing. I’m sorry if I made you think you didn’t. It’s just that “bat-preparedness” as Kon puts it, is a bit beyond my speed. I’m so glad you came by. I’d be delighted if you stuck around for a while to really explain to me what some of those ceremonies entail, but then I don’t know how much time you set aside today.”

The cold feeling had morphed into a warm sort of liquid, like Alfred’s hot chocolate. Slowly, Bruce relaxed his muscles and posture to be more at ease.

“Thank you. I would love to stay. My schedule is free for the next few days actually. I had been planning to ask if you wanted anything done around the place, or for me to take a look at that tractor again. Jon mentioned you were having trouble with it and I know none of my boys have been by in a few weeks or I’d have asked them to take a look.”

Martha leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Bruce’s temple, effectively stunning him for a moment. She laughed at the look on his face.

“Oh you sap, you better get used to it. Come on, you’ll have to show me how you’re setting that thing to rights each time.”

As they got up and made their way towards the tractor, Martha asked one final question.

“I’m surprised Clark didn’t stop by halfway through your explanations. He told me he showed up once during one of your patrols unannounced because your heartbeat suddenly picked up. Lois made fun of him for weeks. How did you know he wouldn’t be listening?”

Bruce smiled slightly as he rolled up his sleeves to take a look at the well worn machinery.

“Easy. I’m on light duty for the next two weeks and the rest of the League got called on a mission for the Lantern Corps. He won’t be anywhere near this solar system for at least four more days. Perfect opportunity to stop by.”

Martha snorted beside him as he pointed out the different systems. She was warm and solid next to him, something that made him smile and think distinctly of family.

Bonus Below the Cut: Kryptonian Marriage Customs from Google.

#batman #bruce wayne #clark kent #superman #superbat #martha kent #bruce: anxiously infodumping abo it kryptonian wedding customs #martha: 👁️👁️#martha (much later): so do you plan on adopting kon and jon or do you think clark would take in your boys??#bruce (thinking of tim and kon or damian and jon and how his boys would murder him): no

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months ago

Text

How We Became Us

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’re a mom first, navigating the chaos of single motherhood with no time or desire for romance. But when a close friend introduces you to a handsome actor, your carefully guarded heart begins to open in ways you never expected.

🔗 Masterlist

💝Romantic Smut 💝 Austin pursuing • slow burn• guarded heart • single mom of 2•friends to lovers• romantic get away• fluff •first kiss•falling in love• sweet talk •body worship •praising •edging • fingering •oral on fem • clit play •sexual awakening• breast play •p in v• multiple orgasms• cream pie

📖 Proofreaders @purejasmine @magicovento

💌 Inspo via request: ( I had to get it perfect ✨ thank you for your patience)

How We Became Us

The movie set buzzed with energy as crew members scurried around adjusting lights, cameras, and equipment.

You stood off to the side, balancing your two-year-old daughter on your hip, her chubby fingers tugging at your necklace, while your four-year-old son played with a toy car at your feet, repeatedly pushing it forward only to chase after it.

His remote control for the car had been misplaced somewhere in the chaos of the morning, so he had resorted to manual play, his determination both endearing and exhausting.

Your best friend, Emily—your childhood confidant turned big-time movie producer—had invited you for a behind-the-scenes visit to her latest project, American Speed. You were more focused on keeping your toddler from drooling all over your shirt than paying attention to the organized chaos around you.

“Come meet someone!” Emily called out, striding toward you with a grin. She gestured to a tall man following her—a striking figure with sandy-blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a laid-back smile. He wore a plain black T-shirt and jeans that seemed almost too normal for someone in Hollywood.

“This is Austin Butler,” Emily introduced. “Austin, this is my best friend I’ve been telling you about, and these are her little ones—”

“Jack and Lily,” you filled in, shifting your daughter on your hip as her toy slipped to the ground. “Sorry, I don’t have a free hand to shake.”

Austin bent down, picking up the toy before holding it out. “No problem. I think I’ve got this.” His warm smile lingered on your daughter as he gently handed the toy back to her. She giggled, and your heart warmed, but you weren’t about to let yourself be charmed that easily.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t mind a little baby drool?”

“Not at all,” he said, straightening up. “I like kids.”

Emily smirked. “Austin’s starring in the movie. He’s kind of a big deal right now.”

“Ah,” you said, nonchalantly, bouncing Lily on your hip. “Sorry, I don’t keep up with movies these days. The last thing I saw in theaters was Sonic the Hedgehog Three—and only because Jack begged me.”

Austin chuckled, looking genuinely amused. “I can’t compete with Sonic, but I’ll take what I can get.”

His easygoing demeanor caught you off guard, and you found yourself smiling despite your initial wariness. Still, you had no intention of getting swept up in Hollywood charm. You were here for Emily and your kids.

The conversation shifted as Emily took Jack’s hand to show him around the set, leaving you and Austin standing there. “Let me guess,” you said. “You’re used to women throwing themselves at you?”

His laugh was soft and genuine. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a hunch.” You adjusted Lily’s position and gave him a pointed look. “Don’t expect me to join the fan club.”

That only seemed to intrigue him more. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “But how about coffee instead?”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re asking me out? After knowing me for five minutes?”

“More like six,” he teased, his hands slipping into his pockets. “But yeah. I like your vibe.”

Emily returned at that moment, overhearing the exchange. “Go, I’ll watch the kids. You deserve a break.”

You hesitated. “I don’t think—”

“Go,” Emily insisted, already reaching for Lily. “Seriously. I’ve got this.”

Before you could argue, Lily was out of your arms, and Jack was waving happily as Emily led them away. Austin tilted his head toward the lot exit. “What do you say?”

With a resigned sigh, you followed him.

The café was small and cozy, a short walk from the studio, tucked away from the glitz of the city. You stirred your coffee absently as Austin sat across from you, his gaze steady. He was too attractive for his own good, but you weren’t about to let that rattle you.

“So,” he began, “what’s your story? How’d you end up raising two awesome kids on your own?”

You gave him a guarded smile. “That’s a long story. And not exactly first-date material.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Fair enough. What should I know about you, then?”

“That I’m a mom first, everything else second. And I’m not looking for… this.” You gestured between the two of you. “Whatever it is.”

“Why not?” he asked, his tone curious rather than pushy.

“Because I’ve been burned before,” you admitted, your voice firm. “And I’m not interested in repeating history.”

Austin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I get that. But not everyone’s going to hurt you.”

You met his gaze, something in his sincerity making you falter. “I don’t need saving, Austin.”

“I didn’t say you did,” he replied softly. “But maybe you deserve something good.”

His words hung in the air as you exchanged soft smiles and soon you slipped effortlessly into other topics. He understood your humor with ease, and the way he listened—really listened when you spoke—felt both disarming and endearing.

You got along so well that before you knew it, he smiled and asked for your number. Hesitant and caught off guard by how natural it felt, you found yourself slowly grinning as you typed it into his phone.

By the time you returned to the set, you had convinced yourself it was just a harmless coffee date, not the start of anything real—

Kneeling down to Jack and Lily’s level, his smile was warm and genuine.

“It was great meeting you, Jack,” he said, offering a light fist bump that made your son beam with pride. Then he turned to Lily, his tone soft and playful. “And you, little Lily, take good care of your mom, okay?” He grinned , and she giggled, clutching your leg shyly. Austin cutely winked at you before standing back up, the small gesture almost making you part of his fan club—though you’d never admit it.

Later that evening after you’d settled in from a whirlwind day your phone buzzed. Seeing Austin’s name appear on the screen so soon surprised you, but you picked up quickly brushing your excitement aside.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice calm and confident. “I just wanted to say I really enjoyed meeting you today… and…” he paused for a moment, his tone carrying a hint of warmth, “I was wondering if you’re available for dinner at the end of the week. You know, so I can steal a little more of your time before you come up with an excuse to avoid me.”

You held back your laugh, and even though the guarded part of you wanted to say no, your curiosity got the better of you. “Dinner, huh? That’s a lot longer than a coffee date. You think you can handle me for that long?” you quipped, keeping your tone playful, even as the flutter in your stomach betrayed your nerves.

His chuckle was rich and smooth. “Oh, I can handle you,” he said, his tone laced with just enough confidence to make your cheeks warm.

You rolled your eyes to avoid showing it, but you couldn’t stop the smile creeping across your face. “Fine, dinner. But don’t think I’m easy to impress,” you said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Noted,” he replied, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. “Friday at seven?”

“Friday at seven,” you agreed, already mentally running through your list of babysitters.

By Friday evening, you were standing in front of your closet, sighing at the assortment of clothing. Why were you so caught up in what to wear for him?

You settled on a modest yet flattering outfit—a fitted black dress with a low neck and long sleeves. It hugged your waist just enough to feel confident without being over the top. You paired it with simple earrings and ankle boots, letting your natural spark shine through with a subtle rouge lip.

When you arrived downtown at the restaurant it was a modern elegant Italian place with dim lighting and flickering candles reflecting off the polished marble floors and glass walls.

Austin was already there, waiting in the lobby. He looked effortlessly put together in a black shirt and suit jacket that highlighted his broad shoulders and dark jeans. He uncrossed his arms as you approached, a calm smile softening his handsome face.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice warm and sincere.

“Don’t start,” you replied with a grin, though the way his gaze lingered on you made you feel like you were glowing.

He opened the doors for you and led you into the dining area, an enchanting space housed under a grand dome. The walls were lined with lush, cascading plants, and soft golden lights intertwined with the greenery, creating an ethereal glow.

Overhead, the glass dome revealed the night sky in all its splendor, the stars twinkling like scattered diamonds. The combination of natural beauty and elegance made the atmosphere feel both romantic and magical.

The tables were small and intimate, each adorned with a single candle. As you sat down, you couldn’t help but notice how at ease Austin seemed, his calm demeanor contrasting with your nervous energy.

Over a a few glasses of wine, you found yourself loosening up, your playful side surfacing as you bantered with him.

“So,” he asked, leaning forward slightly, “What was the funniest thing Jack or Lily did this week?”

You grinned, swirling your wine. “Well, Jack decided to wear his Spider-Man pajamas to school the other day and told his teacher he was ready to save the world.”

Austin chuckled, his smile warm and genuine. “He’s in character—I like that,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Kid’s got commitment.”

You could barely contain your laugh. “Well then, you’ll really enjoy this—Lily has convinced herself she’s a cat. Full meowing and everything.”

You both laughed, the sound deep and genuine, filling the cozy space between you. Austin shook his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “The kids are their own little variety show. I can see why you’re smiling all the time,” he said, his tone warm and sincere.

“You have no idea,” you replied, your guard slipping as the conversation flowed. “They’re my world.”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening. “You’re an incredible mom.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You looked down, taking a sip of your wine to compose yourself. “Thanks,” you said finally, your voice quieter.

By the time the plates were cleared, the conversation had shifted to everything from your childhood memories to guilty pleasure movies. His calm, patient presence coaxed you out of your shell, and before long, you were laughing so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

After dinner as you stepped outside into the crisp evening air, you turned to him, your cheeks slightly flushed from the wine and laughter. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” you said with a teasing smile. “I was really impressed this evening Austin.”

“I’ll take that as high praise,” he smiled, his eyes sparkling as he stepped closer. “But I think I can do better.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips kissing yours softly at first, as if waiting for permission.

You froze for a split second, caught off guard that it was even happening, but then you melted into the kiss, clutching his firm arms to steady yourself. His scent was warm and woodsy, with hints of vanilla and bourbon, and the way he held you made your heart race.

When he pulled back, you blinked up at him, trying to gather your thoughts. “I…uh… that was so.. h—unexpected,” you said, your tone uncertain as your voice trembled slightly.

“Was it bad?” he asked with a playful smirk.

“No!” you blurted out too quickly. “No, it wasn’t bad at all, Austin… it was so good—it was really good . I just—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in and kissed you again, this time with even more intensity.

His hand cupped your cheek, steady and warm, as his lips moved against yours. Your entire body relaxed as the kiss deepened, your mouth sliding over his in a way that made your thoughts scatter.

He tasted so good—like wine and something unmistakably him. He felt so good, so irresistible, that it made you frantic, your hands gripping his jacket as you leaned closer, consumed by the fire of his intensity.

His other hand found your waist, anchoring you as your kisses grew more heated, your mouths moving together like you couldn’t get enough of each other. The world around you blurred, reduced to the warmth of his touch and the way he made you feel, and for the first time in a long time you were unmistakably aroused

With a soft gasp, you pulled back, your chest rising and falling, breathless, your mind spinning. “I—I should go,” you said quickly, avoiding his eyes as you tried to compose yourself.

Austin tilted his head slightly, concern flickering across his face. “Are you alright?” he asked, as his thumb stroked your cheek gently.

His voice was calm and patient, his tone making it impossible to ignore the genuine care in his words.

“Yes,” you nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Really. Just—it’s late.”

“Alright,” he said with a soft smile and without hesitation, he walked with you toward the valet stand.

As you waited for your cars, he stayed close, his fingers brushed against your shoulder lightly at first then, his hand slid lower, resting gently on your waist, his thumb grazing your hip absentmindedly. The casual intimacy of it made your stomach flip, as the entire time, all you could think about was how badly you wanted to climb him like a tree.

Your car arrived first, and as the valet opened the door, you turned to him. Unable to resist, you leaned in for a quick hug, your arms wrapping around his firm chest. The scent of him—warm, woodsy, and undeniably intoxicating—filled your senses, and for a brief moment, you let yourself get lost in it, your mind overtaken by the smell of him.

When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, affectionate and soft, like he was trying to understand what you were thinking.

“Good night,” you said, your voice soft and reluctant, lingering in the air between you.

“Good night,” he replied, his tone low and smooth, laced with a quiet intensity that made your stomach flutter. His eyes lingered on yours, and the way his lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile felt almost seductive, as though he was daring you to stay just a moment longer.

You bit your lip as you stepped back, resisting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you and kiss him again.

Instead, you turned quickly and climbed into your car, your hands gripping the wheel tightly. As you drove away, you glanced back at him in your rearview mirror, his tall figure still standing there, watching you leave. His scent still clung to you, warm and intoxicating, and your mind raced with thoughts you weren’t quite ready to face.

Over the next few weeks, Austin was extremely busy with filming, but he still found little ways to remain a part of your life.

You were busy with work and wrangling your little ones, but the two of you FaceTimed when you could, and every time, he made a point to say hi to Jack and Lily. They adored him, and his genuine warmth toward them made it harder for you to keep your guard up.

One evening, he asked for your address and casually suggested a playdate. “If it’s okay, I’d love to take you and the kids somewhere fun,” he said, his voice calm but hopeful. You hesitated for only a moment before agreeing. His excitement was contagious.

On Saturday, Austin picked the three of you up and drove to a sprawling outdoor park with a petting zoo, a huge playground, and plenty of open space. The day was crisp and sunny, and the laughter of children filled the air. Jack and Lily were wide eyed with excitement as they took in the colorful slides, swings, and the fenced area with goats and bunnies.

Austin was a natural. He jumped right into the action, helping Jack climb the rock wall on the playground and pushing Lily on the swings, her giggles echoing through the park. “Higher, Austin!” she squealed, and he laughed, obliging her with a playful grin.

When they wandered over to the petting zoo, Austin crouched down with Lily, gently showing her how to hold out her hand for a baby bunny to nibble on. “See? Just like this,” he said, his tone patient and encouraging. Jack ran up, curious, and Austin seamlessly shifted his attention, answering Jack’s million questions about the animals with the same enthusiasm.

The whole time, he was equally attentive to you. He carried Lily when she got tired, helped Jack when he scraped his knee, and made sure you had a moment to breathe.

“You okay?” he asked softly when the kids were momentarily distracted, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, his blue eyes full of quiet concern.

You nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice soft but genuine. “This… this is wonderful.”

His lips curved into a gentle smile before he leaned in, brushing an encouraging, kiss against your lips. The tenderness of it, the way he made you feel so seen and cared for, made your heart flutter and left you completely swooning. You barely managed to catch your breath before he pulled back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned back to check on the kids.

By the end of the day, the kids were tired but beaming, their hands sticky from ice cream cones Austin had insisted on treating them to. Jack climbed onto his back without hesitation, declaring him “the coolest grown-up ever,” while Lily clung to his hand, refusing to let go.

On the drive home, the kids fell asleep in the backseat, and you turned to him, overwhelmed by how effortlessly he had fit into your little world. “You’re really good with them,” you said softly, watching as his lips curved into a small smile.

“They’re great kids,” he replied, glancing at you for a moment before focusing back on the road. “And you’re an amazing mom. It’s easy to see why they’re so special.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just smiled, the warmth of his words lingering in your chest. By the time he dropped you off, you realized something you hadn’t let yourself admit before—Austin wasn’t just charming or fun. He was something more, something steady, someone you could rely on.

The next week, Emily called, insisting on coming over for wine in the evening . When she arrived, she was practically glowing, a bottle of your favorite wine in one hand and gifts in the other.

“Okay, don’t kill me, but I’m just the delivery person here,” she said with a grin as she stepped inside. She placed the wine on the counter and held up the items in her arms. “This,” she said, presenting the remote-controlled car, “is for Jack. Austin heard he lost the remote to his old one and said no kid should be without a car they can crash into furniture.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Of course he did.”

“And this,” she continued, holding up a handmade bunny quilt, “is for Lily. Austin found it at some little shop and said it reminded him of her. Thought it would be perfect for her to snuggle with.”

Your chest tightened despite yourself, but you kept your expression neutral. “That’s… thoughtful.”

“Oh, and the wine?” Emily added, gesturing to the bottle on the counter. “That’s from him, too. He said, and I quote, ‘Moms deserve their favorites, too.’”

You sighed softly, shaking your head, but couldn’t entirely stop the smile spreading across your lips.

Every heartfelt gesture from Austin chipped away at your defenses, despite your best efforts to resist.

Later that night, Jack was already asleep when you peeked into his room. He was clutching the new remote-controlled car to his chest, his little face peaceful in the dim glow of his nightlight. You smiled softly, adjusting the blanket over him before stepping out.

In Lily’s room, Emily was already there, kneeling beside the bed as she tucked the bunny quilt from Austin snugly around her.

Lily smiled sleepily, murmuring something incoherent about ‘ her bunny blanky” before drifting off. You leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching Emily smooth the blanket gently over Lily’s tiny form, a look of affection on her face.

You stepped into the room quietly, standing beside Emily as the two of you looked down at Lily, her breathing soft and even.

“She’s adorable,” Emily whispered, her voice low so as not to wake her. “Just like Jack.”

You nodded, a faint smile on your lips.

Emily glanced at you, her expression shifting to something more serious. “Austin is entirely smitten with you, you know,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “And honestly? You should give him a chance. He’s a good guy.”

You sighed, your gaze fixed on Lily’s peaceful face. “Good guys don’t exist,” you muttered, almost to yourself.

“They do,” Emily said, her tone firm but gentle. “And he’s one of them.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the room settling around your thoughts, and despite your best efforts, they drifted to Austin.

His thoughtful gestures, his warm smile, the way he spoke to Jack and Lily like they were the most important people in the world—it all tugged at something deep inside you.

Over the next month, each date with Austin chipped away at your walls. Whether it was sharing stories over dinner, walking through the park hand-in-hand, or watching a movie with Jack and Lily nestled between you, he made every moment feel meaningful.

The kisses grew deeper, more frequent, and harder to pull away from, leaving you breathless each time. He never rushed you, but his quiet patience and unwavering care made it impossible not to feel safe with him. Slowly, you began to trust him, to let him into the spaces you’d kept so carefully guarded.

One evening, as the kids were decorating a small Christmas tree in the living room, Austin sat beside you on the couch, the glow of the twinkling lights casting a soft warmth over his face.

Christmas had always been a stressful time for you. Your ex had made it that way, his constant criticism, belittling remarks, and refusal to help turning what should have been a joyous season into a source of dread. The kids had felt it too, the tension in the air overshadowing their excitement.

It had left you doing everything you could to distract and shield Jack and Lily from his moods. Even now, the memories of those Christmases lingered, making it hard to feel the holiday spirit.

“Christmas is a few weeks away,” Austin chimed in, his voice calm but with a hint of nervousness. “And I know this time of year isn’t always easy for you…” He said his hand rested gently on your knee, his thumb brushing against it. “But…I was thinking—what if you and the kids spent the holidays with me? At my villa in the mountains.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Your villa?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He smiled, leaning slightly closer. “Yeah. It’s quiet, peaceful. There’s a big fireplace, snow-covered hills, and even a spot for sledding. Jack and Lily would love it. And… I’d really like to spend Christmas with all of you.”

You hesitated, glancing toward the kids, who were now deciding over the placement of an ornament. The idea was tempting, but memories of past holidays made you pause. “Austin, I don’t know…”

His fingers tightened slightly on your knee, his gaze steady. “You deserve a Christmas that feels good. And so do the kids. Let me give that to you.”

The sincerity in his voice made you take a deep breath. You looked at him, his hopeful expression, and couldn’t help but give in. “Okay,” you said softly, nodding. “We’ll spend Christmas with you.”

His grin was immediate, lighting up his entire face. “You won’t regret it,” he promised, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

The drive to the mountains from the airport was an exciting drive. Jack could barely stay still, practically bouncing in his seat as Austin navigated the winding snowy roads. Lily, strapped in her car seat, clapped her tiny hands together every so often, babbling happily about “ big trees” as the snow-covered forest grew thicker with every mile.

When the cabin finally came into view, your breath caught. It was stunning—a sleek, modern design with large glass windows that reflected the surrounding snow-covered landscape. Nestled in a lake bed, the cabin was surrounded by towering evergreens dusted with fresh snow. The lake itself was frozen, shimmering like glass in the crisp winter light.

“Wow,” Jack breathed, pressing his face to the window. “Mom, look at all the snow!”

“It’s beautiful,” you confessed, your voice soft with awe as you stared at the serene scene in front of you.

Austin pulled into the driveway, his grin wide and full of joy as he glanced at you. “Wait until you see the inside,” he said, stepping out of the car and immediately opening the door for you and the kids. “C’mon, Jack. Let’s get your sister.”

Jack scrambled out, immediately grabbing handfuls of snow. “Ahhh It’s so cold!” he exclaimed, laughing as he threw it into the air.

Austin chuckled, unbuckling Lily and lifting her into his arms. She let out a delighted squeal, pointing at the snow with her tiny fingers. “Snow snow snow!” she babbled, her cheeks pink from the cold.

“It’s cold, sweetheart,” Austin said softly, pulling her scarf higher as he carried her toward the cabin. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

The cabin’s interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior. The open floor plan had a large stone fireplace in the living area, with cozy furniture arranged around it. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the snowy landscape, and a fully decorated Christmas tree stood in the corner, twinkling with lights.

“This is…” You trailed off, taking it all in. “Austin, this is amazing.”

He adjusted Lily on his hip and smiled. “I wanted it to feel special—for all of you.”

Jack immediately began exploring, his excitement infectious as he darted from room to room. “Mom! There’s a bunk bed! And a big kitchen!” he called out, his voice echoing through the space.

Austin laughed as he watched Jack with a proud expression. “I think he approves.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “I think we all do.”

The next few days were filled with moments that felt like magic.

Jack and Lily experienced snow fall for the first time, their laughter filling the air as Austin pulled them on sleds down gentle hills near the cabin.

Jack insisted on building the biggest snowman ever, and Austin happily obliged, rolling snow into giant mounds while Lily giggled, toddling after him and attempting to help with her tiny mittens.

Later, you all sat inside by the fire, steaming mugs of hot cocoa in hand. Lily held her sippy cup with both hands, sipping carefully, while Jack sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with his toys.

The warmth of the fire wrapped around you, and for the first time in years, you felt the tension of the holidays melt away.

Austin sat beside you, his eyes soft as he watched Jack and Lily. “They’re amazing, you know,” he said, his voice low and full of emotion.

“They are,” you agreed, glancing at him. You couldn’t help but look at him with affection, your heart swelling at how effortlessly he fit into your little family. Without thinking, you brought your legs over his lap. He smiled at the gesture, his hand resting on your knee, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb,

“You look so happy,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “It looks beautiful on you.”

You felt your cheeks warm and looked away, watching the kids. “I am happy,” you admitted softly. “This… this is all so perfect.”

He pulled you closer, his thumb brushing over your waist. “You deserve perfect, you know that? And so do they.”

You turned to him, your heart catching in your chest. “Austin…”

Before you could finish, Jack looked up from his toys. “Can we go sledding again tomorrow?” he asked, his face full of hope.

Austin grinned, his smile warm and genuine. “Now that you know how we can even have a race tomorrow.” He said excitedly.

Jack whooped with happiness, and even Lily let out a tiny squeal of approval, clapping her hands together with delight.

Later that night, as the snow fell lightly outside, you watched Austin tuck the kids into bed with a tenderness that melted your heart.

He listened intently to Jack’s excited chatter about sled racing and gently adjusted Lily’s bunny quilt as she murmured sleepily. The way he handled everything with such care stirred emotions within you that you had never fully allowed yourself to feel for him.

Quietly, you slipped away, heading to your room. After a warm, soothing bath, you wrapped yourself in a robe and walked to the dresser. Nerves overtaking you as you opened the drawer, your eyes falling on the lingerie you’d packed but had been dreading to wear.

It was simple yet elegant—a soft, black lace slip that hugged your curves just enough to make you question if you could really go through with it. You stood there for a moment, hesitating, your heart pounding in your chest as you wrestled with both excitement and uncertainty.

After the kids were sound asleep, you gathered your courage and walked down the hall in your lingerie slip toward Austin’s bedroom.

Your heart pounded as you hesitated at the doorway, nerves fluttering wildly in your stomach.

You raised your hand and gently knocked, the sound somehow louder in the quiet house. For a brief moment, you thought about retreating, but before you could, his calm, deep voice called out.

“You don’t have to knock,” he said softly, his tone warm and inviting.

Stepping inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of the crackling fireplace, the flickering light casting shadows across the walls.

Austin stood near the foot of the bed, dressed in gray sweats and a simple white t-shirt. His sandy blonde hair was slightly tousled, and his blue eyes, illuminated by the firelight, were filled with tenderness as they locked on yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted quietly, taking a hesitant step forward.

His expression softened, and he crossed the room to you, taking your hands gently in his. His palms were warm and grounding, his thumbs brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Just cuddle with me ,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

You smiled as he led you to the bed and sat down with you. He laid back, propping himself up on one elbow, and gently pulled you down beside him. The closeness of his presence calmed you, and as you rested your head against his firm chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounded you in the moment as you both looked at the fire place.

“I care about you so much,” he said after a long silence, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your arm. “You, Jack, Lily—you’re everything to me now.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling as his words washed over you. “Austin…” you whispered, unable to find the right words, but the way you gazed at him said everything.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before his hand slid to your jaw, his touch gentle but firm, as he tilted your chin up.

Then he kissed your lips—heartfelt and tender—as he brushed them softly against yours, his movements were unhurried and full of emotion.

You whimpered into his kiss, eager and unable to hold back. Your hands trailed up his strong neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, kissing him deeper, needing more.

His other hand rested on your stomach, his fingers brushing the lace of your slip. Slowly, he let his hand wander lower, testing your reaction. You didn’t stop him—in fact, you arched slightly, giving him permission, and his hand slipped into your panties just as his tongue slipped into your mouth, the dual sensations drawing a soft moan from your lips.

He glided his fingers up and down your wetness, each movement deliberate and teasing. Your body responded eagerly, and when he pushed two fingers inside, a gasp escaped you. You kissed him deeper, your lips parting for him as his tongue matched the rhythm of his hand, the intimacy leaving you trembling and craving more.

Your breaths grew ragged as his long, deft fingers curled deep inside you in a way that made you see stars. You cupped his jaw, pulling him closer, devouring his mouth hungrily as your hips moved against his hand. His other hand tugged the strap of your slip down, exposing your breast, and he wasted no time lowering his lips to it.

His mouth was warm and wet as he sucked your nipple, his tongue flicking the sensitive peak with precision. He alternated between soft teasing pulls and harder deeper sucks that made you cry out softly, your hands gripping his shoulders.

You couldn’t hold back any longer, your moans turning into soft, broken cries of pleasure as his fingers moved faster, as his mouth sucked your nipples. Your vision blurred, and every nerve in your body seemed to ignite as waves of pleasure rippled through you. “Oh, Austin—Austin!” you gasped, your hips pushing up involuntarily as you orgasmed the release sending tingles through every inch of your body.

Your breaths came in desperate, shuddering gasps of pleasure as he kept his fingers inside you, kissing his way down your trembling body, his lips warm and gentle as they pressed along your thighs.

He pulled your panties down slowly, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of desire and reverence as his mouth lowered on to your clit. His tongue flicked and circled with expert precision as his fingers continued thrusting inside you. You babbled incoherently, unable to form words as your body writhed beneath him, the intensity of his touch consuming you entirely.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he slipped his fingers out, replacing them with his mouth, his tongue working you over with devastating skill.

His movements pushed you over the edge as another powerful orgasm tore through you, your cries of his name echoing in the room as your body shuddered beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your body limp and your core throbbing.

He climbed back up, his eyes filled with affection and lust as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his sculpted chest and strong, defined abs. You couldn’t stop the soft “yes, yes,” that slipped from your lips as you tugged off your lingerie and slid out of your panties in return. Then you spread your legs open for him, lying fully exposed on his bed.

He smiled, his voice low and full of promise. “I’m going to take my time with you,” he said, his blue eyes locked on yours as he pushed down his sweats.

You nodded, your voice trembling with need . “Take whatever you want Austin.” You breathed.

His smile widened as he leaned down, kissing you. “That’s what I love about you,” he whispered against your lips. “You give yourself so completely—so openly—when you finally let go for me. It makes me want to protect that trust with everything I have.”

His words made you gasp against his lips. You couldn’t respond at first, your breath caught in your throat as his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Give me all of you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with longing. “Every part of you. I’ll take care of it—I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes… please, yes.” Your hands reached up, threading into his hair, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t bear to let him go. “Take all of me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you surrendered completely.

He aligned his cock to your slick wet entrance and pushed in slowly, the stretch making your eyes flutter shut as you took all of him inch by inch.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest as he stilled letting you adjust to his size. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, eliciting soft gasps from you as he slowly began to thrust.

Every coherent thought left your mind, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of him—his size, his warmth, the way he filled you so completely. His mouth claimed yours, devouring it hungrily, and your moans were muffled against his lips, soft and pleading as you melted beneath him.

When you became breathless, he pulled back, his lips brushing over your jaw before lowering to your chest. He hunched over you, lowering his mouth to your breasts, sucking each nipple softly at first, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peaks licking in slow, strokes. Then, as his thrusts grew deeper, his mouth became more insistent, lapping and sucking at your breasts as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

The rhythmic sounds of your wetness filled the room, mixing with the slap of his narrow hips between your legs. He groaned loudly, his voice thick with arousal. “Fuck— you feel —so good —I can hardly think” he whispered against your skin, his words broken by heavy breaths.

He thrust harder, his cock twitching inside you with every movement, his satisfaction undeniable. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he pressed deeper, each thrust more forceful, his voice low and guttural. “I can’t… I can’t get enough of you,” he praised, his tone filled with raw need. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer the pressure of his cock filling you even more, making you feel completely claimed, entirely his.

Your thighs instinctively squeezed against his hips, and he groaned again, louder this time, his voice unrestrained. “Oh fuck,” he gasped, his pace quickening.

Pulling back slightly, he rested on his elbows, his blue eyes blazing with intensity as he lifted to look between your bodies.

You looked down, your breath catching at the sight of his thick cock disappearing into you, stretching and filling you completely, creating a visible bulge in your abdomen with each deliberate thrust.

The sight alone sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, making your thighs tremble as your walls clenched tightly around him. His breaths came harder, his groans breaking as he thrust faster.

“You make me feel so complete,” he whispered, his voice rough and trembling with desire, his gaze locked on yours as if you were the only thing in the world. “I love us… I love this… so much.” His words were filled with reverence, laced with the raw need that fueled every thrust.

His cock twitched inside you again, and you moaned in response, your body arching to meet his as he pressed forward, his lips finding yours once more, capturing every sound of pleasure that escaped you.

You were, unable to speak as your moans overtook you, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his.

The sensation built higher and higher until you both reached your peak, and your orgasm shattered through you leaving you gasping as your vision blurred. You cried out his name, your body tightening and trembling as the intensity consumed you completely.

Feeling your walls tighten around him, he groaned deeply, his hips faltering as his own climax followed. His come spilled into you as he called out your name, his voice rough and trembling with pleasure. The sensation made you cling to him, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as you pulled him down for a deep, heated kiss.

Your tongues tangled desperately, the kiss full of shared intimacy and raw emotion, as your bodies moved together, covered in a light sheen of sweat.

His kisses were slow and heated as his hands traced a path that left you breathless, making you feel cherished in a way you’d never experienced before. As you came down, the sensation was all-consuming, leaving you trembling in his arms.

He held you close, his lips brushing your temple. “You’ve got me,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “All of me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as his words washed over you. “I want all of you,” you whispered back, your voice soft but filled with conviction. “Every piece.”

The weight of your own words settled between you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something crack open inside you—love. This wasn’t just passion or a fleeting connection; it was something deeper… it was real. His arms around you felt like home, his steady heartbeat against yours like a rhythm you’d been searching for your entire life.

His thumbs caressed your hips as he slowly, carefully pulled out but the sensation left a soft ache, a reminder of how completely he had filled you.

He rested his head against your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin, and you instinctively brought your fingers to his hair, holding him close. His chest pressed against yours, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

After a few quiet breaths, his voice broke the silence, soft and a little hesitant. “I know you don’t want more kids right now,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “But… do you think you’d ever want more one day?”

You paused, your fingers lightly threading through his hair as you considered his question. A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you answered, “If I were married… then yes, maybe.”

He let out a quiet, thoughtful hum, and instead of responding right away, he nuzzled back into your neck, his lips pressing softly against your skin. “Married,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of affection and quiet contemplation.

He didn’t say anything more, just held you close, his breath warm against your neck, letting the moment speak for itself.

As you closed your eyes a small, contented smile crossed your lips. Austin was the was the start of something real and something you were finally ready to believe in.

Two years later, you stand hand-in-hand with Austin in the cabin, the same one where everything truly began. Lily dances around your feet, giggling as Jack chases her with a toy airplane. Your gaze drifts to your wedding ring, the diamond catching the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the large windows.

Austin’s hand slides lovingly over your growing belly, his touch gentle but protective, as if cradling the life you are creating together. His blue eyes soften as he looks at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

As the sun dips lower, casting golden hues across the frozen lake, he leans in, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before his lips brush yours in a tender kiss. “Together forever,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise.

And forever, with him, feels exactly right

🎄 THE END 💕

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goblin-jr · 3 months ago

Text

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

Part 6 of 12

Synopsis: Surfing lessons and more confessions (shocker)

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—--

Y/N glanced at her phone with a sigh, wondering if it was just another reminder of her complicated feelings. But instead, her screen lit up with a name she hadn’t expected. Rafe Cameron

She frowned at first, thinking it was some weird mistake. Rafe? Why would he be texting her this late? Her finger hovered over the screen, hesitant, before she swiped to open the message.

Rafe: Midnight drive?

Her brows furrowed. Midnight? Was he serious? Y/N looked at the clock—she wasn’t really tired, but the last thing she expected tonight was an invitation from him.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

She typed quickly, half-joking, half-curious, but honestly, more interested than she’d like to admit. She almost deleted it, but the words were out before she could stop herself.

The reply came almost instantly, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his reply.

Rafe: Don’t worry about it.

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. The guy was insufferable, but also oddly charming in a way that caught her off guard. She sat back in her chair, contemplating for a moment. What could it hurt? She was used to hanging out with the Pogues at all hours of the night anyway. This wouldn’t be any different.

Still, she had to tease him a little.

Y/N: You logged on to the country club’s computer, didn’t you?

She waited, half-expecting him to respond with something smug and condescending. Instead, the reply was simpler. A smiley face emoji with a single word:

Rafe: Maybe.

Y/N let out a breath, part exasperated, part amused. The fact that he was so cryptic made her want to know more, but she wasn’t about to let him get under her skin so easily. She typed back quickly, deciding to go with it.

Y/N: You’re lucky I’m bored. I’ll meet you out front in 10.

Without waiting for a response, she tossed her phone on her bed and stood up, running her fingers through her hair. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the door and slipped into something comfortable enough to hang out, but still warm enough for a late-night drive.

---

A few minutes later, Y/N was standing outside, the cool night air ruffling her hair. Her heart raced a little—not from nervousness, but from the odd excitement she felt at the thought of going out with Rafe. Maybe it was because she never really got the chance to talk to him in the way she wanted to. Or maybe it was just the spontaneity of it all.

The headlights of his car cut through the dark before she heard the engine, and Rafe’s sleek black car rolled up to the curb. He leaned over from the driver’s side and rolled down the window, looking effortlessly cool as usual.

“Hop in, princess. You ready for an adventure?” His grin was playful, and Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head in disbelief at his arrogance.

“You really think I’m going to get in that car after you—” Y/N started, but Rafe cut her off with a raised eyebrow.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Unless you want me to.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. She slid into the passenger seat, rolling her eyes as she buckled up. “You’re unbelievable.”

“That’s why you like me.” He winked, his grin still wide. “But seriously, you up for a drive around the island?”

She shrugged, trying to seem casual, though she felt a bit of a flutter in her stomach. “Sure. Why not? What else is there to do around here?”

Rafe nodded approvingly as he shifted the car into gear, and they were off, the soft hum of the engine the only sound for a while.

The drive was slow at first, the cool breeze from the windows mixing with the music playing softly in the background. Y/N looked out the window at the familiar sights of the Outer Banks—everything she’d grown up with, but somehow different tonight.

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, trying to ease the silence. “You just wanted to drive around and look at the stars?”

“Nah.” Rafe chuckled, his eyes glinting as he focused on the road. “I thought maybe you could use a little excitement. Besides, I thought you might want to take a break from the whole Pogue routine for a change.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying the Pogues are boring?”

“Not boring,” he said, his voice turning mock serious. “Just predictable. Plus, it’s nice to hang out with someone who doesn’t have the same baggage as the rest of them.”

Y/N considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair point. But we all have our baggage, don’t we?”

Rafe glanced at her, a flicker of something in his eyes. “True,” he agreed quietly. “But I think you’re a little more... chill about it than the others.”

“Maybe.” She let out a soft laugh, feeling the tension between them lighten just a bit. “I’m just used to it by now. Besides, everyone’s got their own mess to deal with.”

Rafe nodded, his gaze on the road as they sped through the dark, but Y/N could sense that he was thinking about something deeper, something personal. The moment was quiet, comfortable in its own way, until he spoke again, his tone a little more vulnerable this time.

“Do you ever think about what happens after we graduate? What’s next?”

Y/N turned toward him, surprised by the question. It was a conversation she wasn’t prepared to have, but it felt oddly important.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I think about it all the time. Like, what’s out there beyond this island? But then I remember that I don’t really know if I’m ready to leave.”

Rafe’s lips quirked into a soft smile, but his eyes were faraway, distant. “I get that. For me, though, it’s... it’s more about living up to what my family expects. You know?”

Y/N nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she understood completely. But she could sense the pressure in his words, the weight of his own struggles. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I can imagine that.”

The car fell into silence for a while as Rafe focused on the road, and Y/N sat back, thinking about everything he’d just said. For a moment, the world felt smaller, simpler—just the two of them driving through the night, talking about things they didn’t normally share.

The car pulled into a secluded spot near the beach, the wheels crunching softly against the gravel as Rafe parked. For a moment, the only sounds were the hum of the engine winding down and the waves crashing against the shore.

Y/N looked out the window, feeling the familiar pull of the ocean, but also the strange quietness that accompanied being out here at this hour. She wasn’t sure what Rafe had in mind, but she wasn’t complaining. The night felt open, full of possibilities.

“Come on.” Rafe slid out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him, and walked over to the trunk, pulling out two surfboards.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What are you, some kind of surfing guru now?” she called out, a teasing smile spreading across her face.

Rafe turned to face her with a grin, his eyes glinting mischievously in the moonlight. “I’ve been doing this for years. Figured I’d teach you a thing or two.” He tossed one of the boards toward her, and she caught it easily, though the weight of it surprised her a little.

She shot him a skeptical look, but as usual, Rafe wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“JJ tried to teach me when I was younger,” she said, stepping out of the car and slinging the surfboard over her shoulder. “Let’s just say it didn’t go well.”

Rafe’s smirk widened. “What happened? He let you fall off on purpose?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Something like that. He never really took it seriously.”

“Well, I’m serious,” Rafe said, his tone suddenly more intense, though his smile remained. “And maybe you’ll have a better chance with me. Who knows?”

Y/N laughed softly, her thoughts momentarily drifting to JJ and the way things had shifted between them recently. After she left his home the night of Luke’s outburst things went back to normal quickly and that night was never brought up again. The pogues never changed, with Pope worrying about his summer reading and John B disappearing for hours citing a mystery that needs solving as a reason. JJ’s tour guide business was booming and he went back to eyeing Kie at group hangouts. This combination left Y/N wanting to see the group less and less. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside for now.

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, setting her board down on the sand. “We just gonna swim out and start paddling like a couple of idiots?”

Rafe snorted. “Pretty much. But you’ve gotta get the basics down first, and then we’ll take it from there.”

She turned to face him, eyeing the water in front of them. It looked calm enough, but she knew how deceptive the ocean could be. Still, the thought of being out there with Rafe, even with the awkwardness she sometimes felt around him, was strangely comforting.

They waded into the water, the cold ocean waves crashing around their ankles, and Y/N tried to keep her balance as she adjusted the surfboard beneath her feet.

“You remember the basics?” Rafe asked, his voice quieter now, as though he was assessing her readiness.

Y/N nodded, though she didn’t feel particularly confident. “I remember enough to fall flat on my face.”

Rafe chuckled, stepping up beside her. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

There was something in his voice that made her look at him, really look at him, for the first time in a while. His demeanor wasn’t just cocky—it was calm, almost protective. And for a moment, Y/N felt the weight of the night and the change in their relationship.

“I’m not a total beginner, you know,” she said, trying to hide the sudden feeling of vulnerability. “I’ll probably wipe out once or twice, but I’ll figure it out.”

Rafe shot her a sidelong glance. “I’m not worried. You’ve got a good attitude. You’ll get it.”

He stood beside her, both of them paddling out toward the deeper water. The quiet was nice, just the sound of their boards slicing through the water and the rhythmic rush of the ocean around them.

As they reached the spot where the waves began to form, Rafe turned to her, his expression serious. “Okay, Y/N. I’m gonna have you paddle and pop up at the same time. It’s all about timing.”

Y/N nodded, already feeling a little nervous. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she trusted Rafe, even if she didn’t fully understand why. She had a feeling he was trying to teach her more than just surfing. But she wasn’t going to think too hard about that right now.

“Ready?” Rafe asked, his gaze meeting hers. There was something reassuring in his eyes, though it was quickly masked by his usual cocky grin.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding again. “Let’s do it.”

He paddled toward the first incoming wave, signaling her to follow suit. The water seemed to move with a kind of rhythm, and for a moment, Y/N felt herself getting caught up in it, the tension in her body releasing as she focused on the task at hand. The world outside of them—the drama, the confusion with JJ, everything—seemed to blur. All that mattered was the wave in front of her.

“Don’t forget the pop-up!” Rafe’s voice cut through the night, just as she felt the first wave start to pull her forward. She barely managed to push herself up onto the board, her body feeling stiff as she tried to find her balance.

For a second, she was standing, and she thought maybe this was going to work. But just as quickly, she lost her balance and crashed down into the water with a loud splash.

She resurfaced, laughing at herself. “Well, that didn’t work.”

Rafe was already paddling back toward her, grinning. “Don’t worry, that’s the first try. You’re getting the hang of it.”

Y/N wiped water from her eyes, giving him an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “If you say so. You should’ve seen the way JJ taught me. At least I’m not face planting into the sand.”

Rafe laughed, his voice warmer than she expected. “Hey, you’re doing better than I thought you would.”

Y/N smiled, feeling more at ease than she had in a while. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t caught up in her head about JJ or the others. She was just... here, with Rafe.

They tried again, and though Y/N wiped out once more, the sense of accomplishment from even attempting it felt good. Rafe stayed close, offering tips and words of encouragement that felt different from what she’d gotten in the past.

“Want to try again?” he asked, his voice softer this time, more serious than before. There was something in the way he looked at her, something almost protective, like he wanted her to succeed, not just because of surfing, but because he genuinely cared.

Y/N nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They spent the next hour on the water, laughing, talking, and occasionally falling, but each time, she felt herself getting a little better, a little more comfortable. Rafe didn’t push too hard, but he kept her focused, making sure she understood the mechanics of it.

By the time they made their way back to the beach, Y/N felt like she’d learned something more than just surfing. Maybe it was the way Rafe had opened up, or maybe it was the shared experience of being out there at night, away from everything. Either way, she knew that things were changing between them.

And though she didn’t realize it yet, Rafe was beginning to feel something too. But that was a thought he wasn’t ready to confront—at least not tonight.

---

Y/N flopped down onto the sand, stretching out her legs and feeling the coolness of the sand seep through her damp clothes. She let out a contented sigh, her heart still racing from the thrill of the waves. Rafe dropped down beside her with a light thud, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes.

“Okay, not gonna lie, I was expecting a lot more flailing,” Rafe teased, leaning back on his elbows and looking over at her. “I’m impressed. You only wiped out... what, three times?”

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “Excuse me? It was four. I’m counting the time I almost stayed on, but then I hit that stupid wave and face-planted.”

Rafe chuckled, his usual confident grin slipping into something more genuine. “Well, in that case, you deserve an award for ‘Most Improved.’ From barely standing to almost staying on? That’s basically a pro.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Oh, sure. ‘Most Improved.’ What’s next? ‘Most Likely to Get Pushed into the Water by Rafe?’”

“Now that would be an award you’d win,” Rafe quipped, his grin widening. “But you have to admit, you’ve come a long way from your first wave.”

Y/N groaned at the memory. “Ugh, don’t remind me. JJ was a terrible teacher. It was just ‘don’t fall,’ ‘good luck,’ and ‘try not to drown.’ He might as well have handed me a board and told me to figure it out myself.”

Rafe let out a soft laugh, but his eyes softened a little. “Well, you didn’t drown. That’s something. You might’ve had a few wipeouts, but hey, that’s surfing.”

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance. “You say that like you didn’t totally bail on that last wave too.”

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, that was just an elaborate move to give you more space to shine. Didn’t want to make it too obvious I was carrying you through the session.”

Y/N snorted. “Oh, so now I’m ‘shining,’ huh? I thought I was the one struggling to stay upright.”

Rafe’s grin was playful, teasing her. “Well, you were struggling. But I like to think I was a good influence on your, uh, form. You should be thanking me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes, though her voice was warm. “I’ll put it on my ‘thank you’ list. Right after thanking JJ for almost making me break my neck out there.”

“See? If you’d just let me teach you from the start, you wouldn’t have needed to almost break anything,” Rafe shot back with a raised eyebrow, a little spark of humor in his eyes. “We could’ve avoided all the drama.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Sure, next time I’ll take you up on that offer. But for now, let’s just pretend you didn’t totally bail in front of me.”

“Only because I didn’t want to make you feel bad about your wipeouts,” Rafe said with a smirk, nudging her with his shoulder. “You know, being a good friend and all.”

Y/N scoffed, nudging him back. “Uh-huh. Sure, let’s stick with that story. So, what else do you teach, besides making excuses for bad surfing?”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with amusement, but then, for a moment, his expression softened. He leaned back, staring out at the water, his tone shifting slightly.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect to be out here tonight. It feels good, though... getting away from everything.”

Y/N noticed the change in his voice but didn’t push it. Instead, she gave him a teasing grin. “What, the great expectations of your perfect life getting to you?”

He shot her a quick glance, a mix of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite place. “Something like that. It’s just... a lot. You know, with grade 12 and all that comes with it. I can’t even think straight sometimes. University stuff, family, the whole ‘do everything perfectly’ thing.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I thought you had it all figured out. You’re the guy everyone looks up to, right?”

Rafe scoffed lightly. “Yeah, right. I’m just really good at pretending I have it together.”

“Seems to be working for you,” Y/N said with a grin, nudging him again. “You’ve got that ‘I’m a cool, chill guy who doesn’t care about anything’ vibe down.”

He laughed at that, but it was quieter, less confident than usual. “Guess I’m really good at that too. But... the truth is, I don’t feel that way a lot. Like, I feel like everyone’s counting on me to know what comes next, and I don’t.”

Y/N paused, her playful grin faltering for a moment. “You mean... your family’s putting pressure on you?”

Rafe’s gaze flickered to the horizon, his expression distant for a moment. “Yeah. They have their whole life planned out for me. The best schools, the right job, the perfect future. It’s like... I’m supposed to fit into this box they’ve already decided for me, and I’m not even sure it’s the one I want.”

Y/N shifted, sitting up straighter as she looked at him, her teasing smile fading into something more thoughtful. “That’s... a lot to deal with,” she said quietly, her voice softening. “I mean, I get it. Parents want the best for you, but they don’t always get to decide what’s best for you, you know?”

Rafe gave her a dry laugh, glancing sideways at her. “Yeah, that’s the problem. I don’t know what I want. It’s like, the more I think about it, the more it feels like I’m just... following a script. I don’t even know who I am outside of what they expect from me.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought before she gave him a gentle, almost teasing smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t know what I want either. I think the whole world’s just kind of... winging it, you know? Maybe that’s the point. Not everything needs to be figured out right now.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, surprised by her response. “You don’t know either?”

She shrugged, a little smile playing on her lips. “I’m not pretending to have it all together. Who does? I’m just... trying to figure it out day by day. And honestly, I think you’ll get there. I mean, yeah, your family’s expectations suck, but they don’t have to define what you’re capable of. If you want to follow your own path, you can.”

He looked at her with a slightly skeptical look, then shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

Y/N leaned back on her elbows, looking out at the waves, her voice more serious now. “No, it’s not. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. You’re not stuck with whatever they decide for you. You’re still young, you still have time to figure out who you are and what you want. It might take a while, and that’s okay.”

Rafe absorbed her words, his gaze still distant but a little less guarded now. “Yeah... I guess you're right. It's just hard to shake that feeling, like I'm already behind, you know? Like everyone else has it figured out.”

Y/N gave him a wry smile, nudging him with her foot. “You’re not behind. You’re just... not living in anyone else’s idea of what your life should be. That’s actually pretty damn impressive.”

Rafe snorted, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in a half-smile. “Impressive, huh?”

“Yeah. Seriously. Not everyone can walk away from a path that’s already paved for them. Takes guts,” she said with a grin. “And maybe the fact that you’re thinking about it at all means you’re already ahead of the game. Everyone else is just... stuck in their little boxes.”

Rafe let out a long breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re way more insightful than I give you credit for.”

Y/N shrugged, still smirking. “It’s what I do. But, seriously, Rafe... don’t let anyone else decide for you. If you need to figure it out on your own, take the time. You’re allowed to take the time.”

He looked at her for a moment, clearly processing her words. “Thanks, Y/N. I needed to hear that.”

Y/N smiled back, her voice softening again. “Anytime. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

Rafe nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

She leaned back, turning her attention back to the ocean. “Well, if you’re ever in doubt, just remember: I’m always around to tell you how awesome you are... even if you do try to bail on waves every now and then.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, now we’re back to you being a smartass. Much better.”

Y/N grinned, glad to see him lightening up again. “Hey, someone’s got to keep you in check.”

—-

A few days later, y/n found herself in the usual chaos of the Pogues. They gathered in the backyard of the Chateau, the soft hum of late-night music mixing with the sound of laughter and bickering for the first time since the bonfire. Everyone seemed to be in their element—JJ and Pope were in the middle of some heated debate about which local spot had the best surf conditions, Kie was perched on the porch railing, her legs swinging as she poked fun at them, and John B was sprawled across a lounge chair, half asleep, a grin on his face.

It was the same scene as any other night.

Except, for Y/N, it felt different tonight. She felt a strange detachment, like she was watching from the outside, looking in. Sure, she was there with them, part of the group, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong. The conversations felt more distant, the jokes falling flat in her mind. She realized, with a sharp pang in her chest, how much things had shifted.

There was a time when she could dive into the banter, effortlessly teasing JJ or playfully arguing with Pope about anything. But now? She felt like an intruder. She couldn’t even remember the last time JJ had cracked a joke at her expense or dragged her into one of his pointless arguments. Instead, he was laughing with Kie, his attention entirely elsewhere.

The emptiness she felt was palpable. She hadn’t been able to talk to him properly in weeks, not since everything had gotten so complicated between them. And now, when they were together, it felt as though they were both just pretending. Pretending to be okay, pretending to be friends, pretending that things weren’t hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

The warmth of the fire pit did little to ease her discomfort as she scanned the group. They all seemed so... effortless. So natural with each other. She used to feel like she was part of that flow. But now, more than ever, Y/N felt like a ghost in the background.

She found herself looking for a way out, a way to get some space from the group, but before she could move, JJ caught her eye. He was laughing about something Pope had said, his gaze meeting hers briefly before his expression faltered. He didn’t smile at her, didn’t make a sarcastic remark like he usually would. He just... looked away.

That was it. That small action sent a wave of frustration crashing over Y/N. He hadn’t even tried to make her feel like she was still there, still part of their tight-knit group. He’d been avoiding her, sure, but now it felt like he wasn’t even trying anymore.

“Everything okay?” Kie asked softly from beside her, breaking her train of thought. She had a way of reading Y/N, always able to tell when something was off.

Y/N forced a smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, just... tired,” she said, but Kie wasn’t fooled.

“You sure?” she pressed, eyes narrowing with concern.

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied quickly, but her voice lacked the conviction she had hoped it would carry. She just didn’t know how to explain it, not without diving into a conversation that she wasn’t sure she was ready to have yet.

Kie, still watching her with a skeptical look, didn’t press further, but Y/N could feel the unspoken question between them. Was it about JJ? Was it about the way he’d been pulling away from her? Or was it about something deeper that even she didn’t want to admit to herself?

The moment stretched too long, and Y/N, desperate to break the silence, stood up abruptly, brushing the dirt off her jeans. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” she muttered, before walking away without waiting for a response.

The air by the dock was cooler, a sharp contrast to the heat of the fire pit. She walked aimlessly around the yard, her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind. It felt like everything was unraveling, and she had no control over any of it.

Before she knew it, JJ was behind her, his footsteps quick and urgent as he caught up. “Hey,” he said softly, the warmth of his voice a stark contrast to the tension she felt. “You good?”

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. She wanted to tell him everything, to scream and throw all her emotions at him, but instead, she held back. She didn’t want to be the one to make the first move, not anymore.

“I’m fine,” she said again, but this time, her words felt hollow.

JJ didn’t buy it. “You’re not fine, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Y/N wanted to ignore him, to walk away, but the words had already started spilling out before she could stop them. “What’s going on? Really, JJ? You’ve barely spoken to me in weeks. You’ve been so distant. I feel like I don’t even exist to you anymore.”

He flinched at her words, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about? We’ve been hanging out. We’re all good, right?”

“Are we?” Y/N shot back, the hurt bleeding into her voice. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. We went from spending every minute together to barely seeing each other. You don’t even try to talk to me anymore, and when you do, it’s like you’re doing it out of obligation.”

JJ’s expression flickered, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer to her. He had a way of getting in her space, of making her feel like his presence was a force she couldn’t escape, even when she wanted to.

“You think I’m doing this on purpose? You think I want things to be like this?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a mix of frustration and guilt.

Y/N shook her head, her chest tightening with every word she spoke. “I don’t know, JJ. I don’t know what you want from me anymore. You’ve got this whole life that’s just... different from mine, and you’re pushing me out. You don’t get it.”

For a moment, JJ just stood there, his eyes scanning her face, as if trying to figure out what she meant. “So, what? You’re mad at me because I’ve been focused on other things?”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. “I’m not mad, JJ. I’m just... tired. Tired of trying to hold onto something that isn’t there anymore.”

The silence stretched out between them. JJ opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Y/N blurted out the words she’d been holding back for far too long.

“I love you, okay? I love you, and it’s breaking me that you can’t see me anymore. I used to be your best friend, JJ. But now? I’m just someone you pass by when it’s convenient.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. For a moment, JJ didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at her, his face a mixture of surprise and something else—something she couldn’t name.

And then, without a word, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing against her arm, pulling her gently toward him. She could feel his breath against her skin, his body close enough that it should have felt comforting, but instead, it felt like an intrusion.

His lips hovered near hers, but there was no fire in his touch. No spark of longing. Just... guilt. Obligation.

Y/N pulled away quickly, her heart racing. “Don’t,” she whispered fiercely, her voice trembling. “Don’t do that. Don’t kiss me because you feel sorry for me.”

JJ’s eyes hardened, his jaw clenching as he stepped back. “You think I’m just pitying you?” he spat, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “You think I’m that much of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what you are anymore,” Y/N said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m done trying to make sense of this. You don’t get to just kiss me when you feel like it and then ignore me when it’s convenient. I deserve more than that, JJ.”

He took a step back, his face dark with fury. “You’re unbelievable, Y/N. I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m done with this.”

Y/N stood there, chest heaving, as JJ stormed off, his steps heavy against the grass. The door slammed behind him, leaving Y/N standing alone, her words still echoing in the silence.

She had said it. She had finally said it. And now, there was nothing left to do but walk away.

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Next up: the scene that inspired this fic

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Taglist:

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin

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A/N: I wrote this chapter last night at 2 then woke up and read through it with the shocked pikachu face

#obx4 #obx #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x reader

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