#the way this au has consumed me

[queen-scribbles]

She returned to link her arm through Red’s once more. “Shall we, Headmaster?” “We shall, Miss Shrike,” Red answered with one of his dazzling smiles, and they headed out the door. God help her.

HEY Y'ALL LOOK WHAT I GOT!! 😍 Ryn and Red all dolled up for the gala from my @shepherds-of-haven 20's AU, courtesy of the amazing and wonderful @twiddletaffy!!!

LOOK AT THEM. BASK IN THEIR GORGEOUSNESS. While I go scream into a pillow and stare at it for five hours.

[lovesickeros]

popping in randomly after almost an entire month just to talk non stop about the tsaritsa again everyone sit down.

specifically just thinking about the implications of tsaritsa's ideals originally being about love + the abandonment of those ideals to complete her goal of, presumably, destroying Celestia or whatever she's cooking up. to the point even her people don't love her and I probably don't even remember a time her ideals were of love. now it's all just ice and snow and cold.

which makes romantic fics w her even funnier because she's purposely removed this part of herself and suddenly reader walks into teyvat like they own the place (they do) and I can only imagine her reaction. angry, probably. because why you? what are you doing to her that's caused her hundreds of years of strict adherence to rejecting "love" both from others and to others to just. collapse. absolute shattering of her world and you probably don't even know it bc if nothing else she's good at hiding it. a lot of denial. tries to pick you apart and see what's makes you so different.

and oh she just hates it. she loathes it.

basically one sided enemies to lover trope because she can't stand you for a while but if you stick around she starts warming up to you and it makes it WORSE. so much worse. tries to distance herself but your just everywhere and it gets on her nerves because why does she love you? she isn't capable of love, not anymore. she thought she was.

g-d forbid one of the harbingers or PIERRO notices she'd never live it down. might even consider the implications of just killing you (she doesnt). worse if you know about it and act like a brat she will lose her damn mind

just the tsaritsa being an absolutely horrible mess internally.

[fumifooms]

Thistle & Falin

Just my narrative of Thistle & Falin, collection of shippy thoughts and dynamic analysis. Creating some imagery and threads, etc. What if we both made devotion to our loved ones our purpose, what if we both hadn’t lived for ourselves in a long, long time. Who are we? Beyond who we love and our powers, what are we?

Background info: a short Falin analysis touching on Faligon and Thistle + an old thistlin post, compiling most of their moments. Here I delve into further thoughts but for base analysis of what they have in canon and in potential those are good starts. If you want I also have a full Falin analysis.

Disclaimer: Beyond the nebulous 1000 years I place Thistle as a young adult, and though I agree Falin mothers him to some degree I don’t think it’s unsimilar to the way that Marcille is a mom friend that sometimes mothers Falin and Izutsumi especially. Their relationship has layers like every other one in Dunmeshi, reducing it to being incestuously motherly or age discoursy to justify it being problematic is so funny to me, hello did you miss the mind control. Ah yes I love the 1090 yo with godlike powers being groomed by his chicken slave. You can have your own interpretation but canon is ambiguous enough, and dare I say intentionally ambiguous, that I have no qualms with not infantilizing Thistle, same with Yaad at the end of canon. I do ship Thistle and Falin, and although it’s in a nebulous qpr-or-other third secret thing situationship instead of conventionally romantic way, like, I puke on anything giving them a parental framing so don’t come shitting on my doorstep, kid-Thistle truthers be warned. Only nuance enjoyers allowed on this post. It’s valid if you’re uncomfortable with the ship!! Don’t make your issue others’ problem.

I thankfully finished my Falin analysis before posting this, but besides that I also have an analysis coming on the whole Thistle age thing which I think is interesting, beyond the well being poisoned there are things to explore there, idk in how long that’ll be done though. That’s all for plans that are relevant to this, now let’s get into it.

Part 1

So my favorite Falin things are Faligon + her sense of being like a pawn/misplaced, going on autopilot to follow the wishes of others, a feeling of identity being a burden and sort of fleeing from that, and her not really caring in the way/with the intensity that she’s "supposed" to (as per the points I go over in my Falin analysis). Meanwhile, Thistle has a lot of shit going on already but then there’s also how being a dungeon lord is highly wearing on his mind. As Faligon and as dungeon lord Thistle, the way they’re both so out of touch with reality in different ways holy shit?? They have power imbalance between them and it very much comes from mind control lol, but it’s also not something Thistle is fully aware of himself, because the powers are driving him unstable and he’s not even aware there’s someone in front of him really. He’s so out of it that he can’t even recognize that the dragon has been fused with a human and she’s so out of it we can’t even tell how conscious of her actions she is.

And then the interesting thing is that they’re kind of in it together… Mostly from Falin’s standpoint. We see that he does rely on the dragon increasingly so, hanging out with it, being saved by it and embraced by her etc. When he lets them both fall after breaking the web they were hanging from, he automatically, fully and wordlessly trusts her to catch him, instead of relying on magic or anything, and she does. Falin devotes herself to him but he’s devoted to The Cause which is just chasing ghosts at this point. But despite it all there’s a weird comfort here too… From the guy who in his last moment of lucidity reached out for someone, anyone’s hand, from the guy who hasn’t felt companionship in hundreds of years probably, hasn’t taken it slow and slept and eaten in who knows how long, from the girl who feels compelled to care after him like she’s always done with others… And the beast-ness allows her to have some freedom to figure herself out in a weird way, to simply enjoy being beside someone and doing anything her own whims tell her to.

It’s very destructive and weird and layered but like…. I can see the sliver where it works out. Where her kindness reaches him and he has a moment of lucidity where he sees her and it’s like, wait, who are you, you’re not the dragon?? Where finding someone else who feels just as messed up and devoted as them, like they’re just trudging along life like it’s a dream following their loved one, heals them a bit. Where caring for the other becomes a way to care for themselves too, a dark mirror of each other that shows you, oh, this is how bad it can get and I want to choose something else for myself actually. To grow to see the person standing in front of you, instead of only searching with your eyes in what way they’ll reflect on you. In helping each other, finding some companionship that’s weirdly vulnerable and self-healing. He gets her in touch with herself and her own needs again through the arc and conflict they have, and she gets him in touch with the world and his surroundings again. They have clashing ways to be selfless, very self-sacrificial from Falin meanwhike self-centered with Thistle (he ‘knows best’, ‘everything needs to be left to him’, etc etc, he needs the control, but he does it all for others, meanwhile Falin leaves that control to others and only grabs it for herself in exceptional cases like sacrificing herself to the dragon for Laios).

Like just let yourself be, damn!!! So then them being like, zombie mentally stunted babies kind of enhances that theme in a way too lol. The way they communicate together is very… Instinctive and basic, and I’d love to see how it could develop into a functional dynamic. They’re in ‘learning to be your own person’ kindergarten together to me. Thistle looking at her coloring wildly outside the lines and being like "you’re doing it wrong" and then you look at his and he colored everything a weird color. The precision is scary but then his crayon goes 1 mm out of the lines and he blows up into tears. Ok the metaphor has run its course

So yeah like the ship/brotp is very, them being isolated and against the world together and like… Slowly regaining their minds together. Getting their sense of identity grounded into them again. In my mind they have a 50k words adventure where they hang out and he slowly realizes there’s more to her than just dragon and she encourages him to dawdle around and eventually just play in water and shit and it’s like, starting to see life again beyond the laser focus you limited yourself to… And she’s allowed to just chill out and do whatever she wants besides the whole searching for Delgal thing. You can’t tie down a dragon! They are a duo they are an unit‼️ He’d have been fucked without her and at this point in time he sort of made her and he’s her world. Traumabonded kittens do not separate but it’s onesided in different ways haha. Honestly it’s sort of reflavored mickuro wait fuck…

If nothing else, they’re a very interesting dynamic to ponder. The depths of it all… I want to use them as a social experiment. I want them to stop to smell at the flowers and learn to work together… They’re master and servant they’re owner and pet they’re mothering and mothered (in a guardian hound way, in a mom friend way) they’re both incredibly (emotionally and physically) vulnerable in different ways…… Master and monster if you will. Mostly I see them as guardian & leader. Like I said I ship them but it’s not really romantic atp I think but it’s not quite qpr either it’s truly a weird secret third thing… What if we were sort of coworkers but also ?!!!>??????! You should hate me but you fiercely protect me I should appreciate you but I only see you as a tool WHAT IS GOING ONNN IN THERE

He wants to be protected even if he can’t really admit it. Here the catalyst was emotional distress moreso than physical threat. Notice how he lays there under her wing for a bit as he (refuses to) processes what Mithrun told him about Delgal dying and betraying him. She’s becoming his safety net, his comfort hound. Somehow, the both of them find they’re soothed in each other’s presence.

It kills me. Them being so toxic at the start of it, then somehow ambiguously just hinting towards how things could have went on to be better, could have been headed somewhere nice and healing and healthier, she dies and he dies everyone fucking dies and they forget each other and it ends there they never speak of each other again. Canon wanted me dead specifically. Like remember too that I was there when the last chapters where being released, my ass really was like "Oh I wonder how Falin will react seeing Thistle after being revived!" 🤡 But yess at least that means there’s a lot of Unsaid, a lot of space for speculation, and I want to see what could have been. I want to see it so so bad. It’s so interesting

Post-canon is also so interesting, where they’re sort of recovered but not fully not really, them actually getting to know each other… And she doesn’t remember him but he doesn’t remember her either, in a way they’ve never met even though they have, even though she was the first one on his side since so long, the first hint of companionship he’s had, companionship that he’s so unused to getting that he can’t even recognize it for what it is. He couldn’t even recognize a human standing in front of him!! He is so disconnected from others and the world!! He spoke to ghosts like they had no worries in the world and everyone was ok!! He’s out of touch, tone-deaf af!! Has always been tone-deaf!! Being tone-deaf when he was younger, a stick in the mud, caused him to be more isolated than he already was… Autism4autism, anyways—

It’s them not knowing why or how to express it but being drawn together, a bond forged together by the fire of circumstances and coincidences— or is it only that? No one can know for certain but there’s a grip they have on each other there somehow. Weird distant caring thing. I dont know who you are but I feel like I should know you

It’s like my headcanon that she doesn’t know why, but on her travels she feels something when she comes across wild thistle flowers… There are just faint remnants, whispers of feelings like ghosts.

They should be remnants in each other’s lives. A deja vu of a person in the way Falin hugs small dolls to her chest, or how Thistle reminisces of something when he sees bird feathers discarded on the ground. < This paragraph courtesy of @cabinette’s huge brain

He canonically writes poems btw… Poems would be such a good way for him to get in touch with himself again post-canon, find desires in again and get creative fulfillment. He should make poems about her. To explore and vent and express all the vague feelings and memories he has, both those of during canon and after canon. He doesn’t remember her but he remembers her, slivers of kind eyes and warm gentle hands and healing magic like a blanket…

Yaad, an unlicensed therapist but the best you're gonna get in fantasy land: Maybe you should try journaling.

And too the thing is their relationship with each other in a way is ONLY about themselves, even when Falin is being self-sacrifical it’s less about him and more about how she generally is, that sort of instinct to latch onto someone and just follow along with whatever they do and ask, meanwhile to Thistle she’s only ever been a factor in his plans. Idk idk them getting to that point where they see and know each other, stumbling into that through canon or actively working towards it post-canon, there’s weird beauty in that Like. Thistle cares about her because he’ll take anyone as long as they fit the job description well enough, he’s desperate to find Delgal and will grasp at straws to find him. In a similar way that he’ll reach for someone, anyone’s hand on the verge of death, she seeks to protect someone, anyone. That’s how she centers herself, makes someone her compass and her world. Falin wants to protect someone and Thistle would use anyone, pushed to the states they were in they would latch onto anyone for comfort (caring for him, grabbing Marcille’s hand).

Mirrors truly truly. And Thistle likes to shatter those, and silence anyone who tries to talk to him about reality, so then the option left is to be by him quietly and subtly gradually, gently (her specialty) nudge him in the right direction … Nooo but actually why did he shatter those mirrors. Very interesting to think about. Would seeing himself in others anger him?

I like to call him a ghost of who he was sometimes, a ghost of the past, he’s so haunted, and I think there’s fun imagery there too. The care she offers Thistle somewhat reminds me of the one she offers ghosts. I wonder if part of it is that she sees herself in ghosts, that she wants to offer them freedom and peace of mind she can’t get for herself.

And of course meanwhile on her end, the thistlin arc is also about growing self-respect. I don’t want to see Thistle as a lost cause in saying that her efforts are wasted on him, but being so permissive and invested in him is obviously not healthy for her. She needs to learn when to put her foot down

Oooh, just realized that choosing to eat in this scene was a big character moment all things considered. By eating she faltered in her task, stood up for herself and her needs, was selfish for once (/positive go get your damn food girl). She chose to eat. Anyways

I bet he’s the one who healed her wounds after the Shuro party fight. And on that note— it’s interesting he could change her form from Falin to Faligon without touching her isn’t it? Healing by everyone else like Marcille and Falin always required touch, physical contact between the healer and healee, which some like Chilchuck say is a negative, but… The dungeon lord not needing to touch to heal makes a nice metaphor for how isolating the powers are I think. Truly clinical instead of warm. Theme of community and freely offering affection in Dungeon Meshi etc etc. Like I said, Thistle is out of touch.

The way that he has the powers to change her form and heal and like soo much magic power but he can’t even realize when he’s hurting himself and she’s the one who has to heal him. He’s so fully devoted to the cause even when he acts selfishly that he neglects himself too, and she has to remind him to take care of himself, to eat, etc. That she feeds him. Eating is an act of love to yourself and to life. The berries, the curry, the soup that Thistle refuses to eat—

Do you see the vision. Do you see all the narrative relevance and themes and parallels of their dynamic. To chase ghosts, to cling onto them so they stay with you no matter how warped and ugly they get, and to soothe souls, purifying them and helping them depart for the afterlife… Both magic prodigies whose lives revolve around protecting and caring after their loved ones more than anything else. A family member who looks elsewhere while they are their whole world. They can flee their emotional issues together 🤝 Who are we? Beyond who we love and our power, what are we? I think about the way she cradled him in her arms just before they fell down into the dungeon all the time idk idk

^ End notes from the one fic I wrote about them so far: Slivers, on AO3. For a moment, they were both slivers of themselves, bound together.

Thistle feverishly holding onto ghosts of the past and his source of power, meanwhile Falin cradles the people she can protect in the now with the powers that reside in her… Him cradling his book, her cradling her master……… Parallels

Interlude

And yess it’s important to remember too, Thistle became a mage only after delgal asked… He had innate talent, but moreso than Falin it’s through studies that he learned to actually harness his magic etc. Idk I think it’s an interesting parallel that could have interesting stuff be done on it. People often characterize him as predominantly bratty but. He’s smart and composed he’s mainly smart and composed… He’s unstable and everything during canon was happening all at once with the winged lion being freed and Laios’ party and the canaries and agh </3 He can have a meltdown as a treat he’s smart and cool-headed if it wasn’t for the dungeon wearing on his mind ok… Obvi I love my chars with anger issues but saying he’s overly childish is having tunnel vision I think

Ok so the elephant in the room… First of all how present is Falin in Falugon exactly…… We have no clue. The end sequence does show her in purgatory with a dragon foot holding her down, which can easily be read as it suppressing her personality- with how it’s shown though it feels like she’d be fully suppressed by that? And we know that’s not the case, since not only does she recognize Laios and calls out to him, she hesitates to hurt Kuro because of the dog association, she’s excessively kind towards Thistle, the latter which her Adventurer’s Bible profile confirm to be "her kind nature remaining as the chimera". Maybe it’s a dream-like state? Maybe the dragon is the driving force with the instincts, and it’s only bits of Falin and her personality that show through? A state of mind very primal and not very think-y, even if Falin has enough brains to think of sharing the berries, gesturing and oh- of course, casting magic. No issues with controlling the human half of her body as well. To some degree, her and the dragon are working in tandem. My own preferred interpretation is the driven by instincts one, a state of mind like an actual dragon’s, which in my Falin analysis I delve into the significance of it for other parts of Dunmeshi too. So yeah, dreamlike mindless autopilot… I think exploring her pov as Faligon would go super hard. Aware of her surroundings but sort of disconnected with it, and disconnected from herself too, entirely living in the present… And like with her talking to Laios— the only time she speaks in her chimera form, a simple observation, "Laios, brother", sometimes her human thoughts peek through more sharply, short moments of lucidity… I think it’d be interesting to see an arc where as the chimera, she learns to share the "brainspace" more with the dragon.

It’s also unclear if Thistle had a say in how much of ‘Falin the human’ is in control? He very well might have suppressed her somehow when he changed her form to be more dragonlike. That might also be due to just getting back the dragon meat though— and the dragon meat itself might be why/how the brainspace is shared. There is a lot less of Falin’s body in the chimera than there is of the dragon, body mass wise. Dungeon Meshi is a lot about physicality so I wouldn’t be surprised with this reasoning. But there’s the whole mind control soul bond situation too…

The mind bond is another thing that’s left mostly to interpretation when it comes to the details. She feels compelled to listen to the dungeon lord’s orders as a monster created and owned by it, like the dragons Thistle summoned during the fight at his house, but again like we see with the dragons, if the monster has a "strong will" it can disobey to some level without being punished by the bind or anything. The eyes of the magician, the small wyverns, level-of-control wise can’t be accurate examples because they’re sort of like familiars, Thistle can see through their eyes in real time no matter where they are but it’s only this species as far as we know. So otherwise the mind bond is more subtle… There’s also the question of how much the control is shared between the dungeon lord and the demon, which again Thistle’s situation is exceptional because he managed to seal his demon in a book, presumably all the power goes through Thistle without the intermediate of the winged lion, though we do see he has some reach since he reaches Laios through his dreams. ANYWAYS all that to say. I do really ponder about how a dungeon lord's monsters get their orders, like... For the fight on the first floor, did Falin just feel Thistle's agony in her bones and came clawing and barging her way in desperately and angrily to protect him because of his distress, or did he more directly demand she come, consciously or not?! Idk, since Falin is actively protective of him unlike the dragons who reluctantly listen to him, her being very fast and intense about it doesn’t have to be forced… It’d be interesting if she can sense his feelings, wants or thoughts, bc I don’t think it’s as conscious as like, telepathically communicating "hey you, do this"…? Pondering, pondering. Mind bond <3 Soulbound <3

They’re both very trapped in the past… I wonder if as Faligon a lot of her mind goes back to memories of Laios and such, if she’s in a dreamlike state and not just sort of absent, where would her mind retreat... I don’t think so like I said I think she’s mostly driven by dragonlike mindlessness, but still… Thistle stuck in the search of Delgal, thinking back to everything they’ve shared and where it all went wrong obsessively, and Falin, sort of larping that she’s still beside Laios, not unlike how Thistle treats having the corpses of the royal family at his house like them being safe. Delusions. Idk I just want more character studies.

The metaphors in this truly… It’s not literal, like def not something that happens during canon at no point are they or could be ever atop a mountain of frames and paintings of the Golden Kingdom’s royal family and fine art lmaoo, so then like the meaning behind it all… She offers him reprieve, an outsider from all the Golden Kingdom expectations and drama, just someone warm to lean on, someone who’ll stay…….. I love Faligon pushing him to rest and nap so much. Man has first nap in a thousand years. Feather duvet like a nice warm pillow. The peace she offers him man……. Live in the present bbygirl Unfortunately it doesn't help. Look at them eyebags… Man needs to sleep!!

Part 2

^ This panels drives me crazy It’s the possessivity. It’s the "my". It’s the "stealing".

What if you have fear of abandonment and think you have to prove your worth for people to stay by your side. What if belonging to someone makes you feel like you belong and you feel loved and soothed by it lowkey, feel like it makes things easy. What if I was bought as a slave and servant but I was adopted into a pretty loving family. What if ownership is what love looks like to me. What if that’s why I have no problem rationalizing keeping people against their will in a glorified kingdom-prison, because that’s just what someone with the power who Knows Better does, and… Did he always call her his dragon hello? Feelings

He is not letting it go damn He hates when people mess with what's his. Or Delgal’s.

But imagine. The dragon is like, the last thing he has. The Golden Kingdom has moved on from him, everything is shit, but his dragon is the last thing he still has some realm of like. Ownership over. But that ownership is kinda just his sense of belonging. His role, his duty.  So it’s like "Don’t steal the last thing I have" especially if post-canon… It’s thinking from his time as a jester bought into a loving family that ownership is natural in love and care. It’s thinking that’s the way you get to belong beside someone, beside earning that through achievements and being useful and capable. Everything is being stolen away from him. Control and things and people and even the importance he has to the Golden Kingdom as he becomes part of the background & past history and the kingdom switches into new hands aka Laios’…

My dragon, not the dragon. I do like to imagine especially after the berries he’s starting to feel differently about her. He keeps being like "you’re acting odd, dragon". His dragon is special. She’s not just another regular monster npc to easily replace, there’s human contact in there. His dragon just for him. <3

I do think Falin has some issues with like, asking to be with the people she loves, feeling safe in asking for that, that she’s worth that. She follows them and is quiet and just takes the crumbs of love that they offer, she doesn’t ask Marcille at the academy to spend lunches with her, doesn’t ask anything of her distant busy father and ill anxious mother… The person she did ask things of, Laios, who she always asked to go travel the world with him and whatnot, left her behind. Like how Delgal left Thistle. Theme of leaving </3 theme of family and abandonment issues </3 So she just follows and cares after them and makes herself useful and is grateful she gets to be beside them at all. So yeah what I’m saying is being owned/belonging to someone might feel yeah like, belonging. Being One Person's. He’s seen her at her worst and most bloody and raw, and still wants her? Very comforting And especially post-canon he doesn’t need her to be witty or useful or such, he just needs her love and that’s what she has lots to give.

Do you think Falin wants to be needed… Do you think she’s a little restless if she doesn’t feel like she is, like she thinks just like Laios people might leave you behind and you never see them again.  It’s also because of what she said, that she put others before herself, that she just followed/imprinted on her parents/Laios/Marcille. She avoided conflict, she wanted to be liked and live in peace. The only times she was selfish, she hurt people (left school for Laios, sacrificed herself for them, teleported them out despite possibly hurting people on the surface), so she chooses to be selfless instead. "One of the most selfish things i've ever done was barely even for the sake of myself" - Falin and Toshiro both hah Falin is often told she doesn’t care the right way or not enough, you’re cutting classes Falin, I’m upset you left me and you don’t even seem to think it’s a big deal Falin, you shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself to save me (her not noticing her ostracization in her village wasn’t told to her but I’m including it also). And with Toshiro when considering her proposal, she was worried to accept because yeah it’s have been convenient but she wouldn’t be reciprocating his feelings in the way he wants and expected her to with what he asked of her… And she’s worried it wouldn’t be right… Bc she doesn’t care about the proposal on the same level he does….. I just think that’s neat I think that Falin caring both too little and too much, with laser focus on Laios & Marcille neglecting even herself, is a big part of her. She focuses on others and their emotional needs so so much always, babygirl be selfish for a while…

Thistle’s interaction with Laios is interesting too, especiaoly when Kaios heals him. How he looks at his shoulder, surprised and confused… Guy who's used to not having his personal needs met because he's so busy doing everything for the people he cares about receives care??? Woah that’s crazy Something something being so unused to human contact and affection that you don’t know how to process it and don’t recognize it when it happens/stares you right in the face. Thistle the Toudens are gonna make you open up ur heart to humans again on god…

What if… He doesn’t want to admit she’s not the dragon. If he admits it’s not the dragon that means giving up some control… This was not in his plan, he doesn’t know how well he can control a chimera rather than a dragon, it’s weakness it’s vulnerability it’s feeling like he’s losing his grip on everything again and thus losing his place and purpose. Hmm…

Finding yourself through someone else… Because defining yourself through others is what you’ve always done… Yeah. Yeah.

I do love it tying into Falin’s arc of finding herself. Like, she doesn’t remember her time as a chimera, she just remembers this guy she has conflicted but fond feelings of for some reason, so say if they travel post-canon, traveling with him would also be a way to figure out more how she’s feeling, and then there’s how when looking at him she gets the feeling that it’s been a long time he hasn’t lived for himself either… And like for him traveling is about seeing the world a bit too. Seeing it not as something to control or always dangerous but something to explore, and just enjoy the little things instead of worrying about the court. And just. Aghhhh. He hasn’t had someone on his side for centuries. Sighs. Of course Yaad also becomes that largely but traveling post-canon with Falin… Would love to see that in fancontent

Them growing to SEE each other, with the film in front of their eyes slowly fading away. Both of them coming out of it more genuine than they’d been even before meeting, before becoming warped, growing more comfortable in their skin and with the thought of connecting with others. It’s the mutual care <33 it’s having been on each other’s side at both your ugliest <3 Unconventional caring...

Toshiro saying "you can’t tie down a dragon" is always so good… Someone should so do stuff with that. "But you can tame it" / "I tried to once" / "but she chose to stay with me anyways"… Musical theme of How to Train your Dragon starts playing in the distance

When/after they get together, I feel like their relationship isn’t something they like to label… If anything it’s like. Partner. Or calling each other by name… Him calling her my dragon, except now it’s warm and personal would be so. Aughh <3 But then that just also makes the first time he calls her by name so huge.

Conclusion

They and their relationship is weird and unusual but that’s just how they are, and how they need to accept themselves (again: as they are) and roll with it! And make a place in the world for them anyways!

Magic forced them to be vulnerable in front of each other but it’s them who have to like… Be pushed out of their passivity and do something with that vulnerability.

BROTHERSSS THEY’RE BOTH ALL ABOUT BROTHERS. LEAVING. OUT OF TOUCH WITH REALITY. OUT OF TOUCH WITH THEMSELVES AND THEIR OWN IDENTITY. In a twisted way only the other would understand what it’s like.

Thistlin is so crazy, in humanizing you it humanizes me, in recognizing you for what you are I get more back in touch with the world again.

Flighted birds have hollow bones. With freedom there are risks and drawbacks. Thistle was Falin’s.

It’s not everyday you can have a ship where both characters are out of touch with reality and others and themselves and have this weird almost innate bond of her being compelled to protect him and care for him and him holding onto that unknowingly… Even if he didn’t need to, keeping her by himself and sitting on her while he plans and has a panic attack….. And also he owns her and robbed her of her freedom & body & full mind but she still wuvs him. Weird intimacy with the guy who horrifically changed you into something else, and yet is not even aware he has done it.

Falin loves nature and Thistle is named after a flower… Her post-canon coming across wild thistles and feeling a rush of fondness and she doesn’t know why… Thistles have thorns, but they taste sweet. Just gotta peel them off and enjoys the sweet taste of it once it’s open <3 Eat it like them honeysuckles

Slice of life 40k words thistlin sitcom I need you. Don’t make me write it myself. Sob

You are so so close sweetie…

wutiwant

I don't know what I want But I know it's not this These words don't mean nothing Once they left my lips More awake inside of my dreams Was that really you, next to me? Give me what I want, who am I supposed to please? Who am I supposed to please? Who am I? Who am I? I? Give me what I want Give me what I want

Some links, since the pair is small enough that finding stuff for them can be hard: Falin & Thistle search on pixiv Falin & Thistle search on danbooru Ao3: Thistle x Falin, Thistle & Falin Ship names: ファリシス / シスファリ. Thistlin

My own spotify playlists: Thistle & Falin, Thistle, Falin

source v

[emily-mooon]

You know when I hear people say they want more messy relationships in ST, I’m tempted to point my finger to the corner where Stonathan sits.

[sesamenom]

Ar-Pharazon from the Reverse Gondolin AU and as Witch-King of Numenor - thanks to @who-needs-words for helping develop this idea!

[enigmaticcattic]

Me, upon finishing Cryptid Sightings:

@naffeclipse YOU DID THIS 🫵 /POS

[liorlen]

I kinda like the whole sorcerer!gale idea. I don’t have it as a headcanon bc, personally, I just think he was a super fucking nerd as a kid and decided reading magic textbooks was fun so he ended up casting spells quite early and not by accident like a magical bloodline sorc would (I think??).

But I like thinking of a sorc!gale au. It’s really funny and even a bit sad. I genuinely don’t know how someone with a sorcerer bloodline who trains as a wizard would work. I’d think his bloodline would either be very weak or he simply doesn’t have the charisma to control the sorc magic (sorry gale. your charisma is NOT high enough to multiclass into sorc).

[sleepy-crypt1d]

having really bad anxiety and mild hallucinations (?) whilst simultaneously having horror as your main special interest is such a horrible combination like no i cant interact with my favorite media because my brain came installed with the Agony Simulator 2000 sorry

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

man. theres just something abt cult leader geto huh

[kuiinncedes]

ahhhhh

[ame-to-ame]

the thing abt btr is i really wanna see more characterization/ ixn but i don't think anything i write will be able to capture the essence of the source material :(

[cielospeaks]

tbh dog guides is basically the precursor to golden week (also as of today happy 17 yr anniversary to dog guides!) which just makes me lol

dog guides: great dogs au

dog guides: kin no sehai (monty x kin no shuu)

dog guides: the museogers (scooter x idolgers)

dog guides: escape the san dimas jail (rocky x escape the ri-o verse)

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

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

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

----

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

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

Everyone, except for you.

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

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

Logan Howlett.

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

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

Jean Grey.

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

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

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

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

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

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

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

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

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

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

It’s Logan.

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

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

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

Brown.

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

Why him? Why me? Why now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

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

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

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

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

“Logan, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

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

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you are the only one who does care.

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

—

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

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

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not fair.

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

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if it just makes things worse?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words hurt. 

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

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

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when it really hits you. 

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

You give up.

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

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

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

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise,” you assure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The X-Men have arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. "Okay."

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that makes all the difference.

----

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

[cocomere]

I see so much MCYT/DSMP fanart and I get Worried(tm) that I accidentally tag the characters as the content creators and vise-versa

this is an irrational fear, I know. Most artists Will Not Notice. BUT WHAT IF THEY DO, the anxious little worms in my brain cry out. BUT WHAT IF THEY NOTICE AND ARE OFFENDED AND HATE YOU FOREVER??

I try to look at the artist's original tags but this is not always as enlightening as I would hope.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Missed me? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (love island au)

Summary: Rafe arrives at the villa as the newest bombshell 😝

Warnings: nothing rlly!!

Word count: 1,609

A/n: im so glad you guys are enjoying my love island au, put thru any requests you might have!

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"I'd rather that than-" Theo’s about to finish his sentence when his phone suddenly dings, snapping you both out of the moment. Your eyes widen in excitement as you sit up, and Theo’s face lights up. "I got a text!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the villa. Instantly, everyone around the pool and loungers lets out thrilled squeals, rushing over to where you and Theo are perched on the sunbed, eager to hear the news.

Theo holds up his phone dramatically, soaking up the attention, then reads aloud, “All islanders to the garden deck!” He pauses for effect, raising his brows as everyone hangs on his words. “Hashtag fun and games, hashtag don’t be scared.” His teasing smirk only fuels the buzz, and the whole group erupts with another round of happy cheers and squeals, all of you giddy at the idea of a game.

As the blindfold slips over your eyes, Theo’s fingers graze your cheeks, adjusting it gently. “Can you see anything?” he asks, a chuckle lacing his words. You can’t help but giggle, feeling the warmth of his hands as you hold onto his wrists for balance. “Nope,” you reply, playfully tugging his hands away.

Before you can say more, another familiar ding sounds from across the deck, and Leo clears his throat to read the message. “All boys to the balcony immediately,” he announces. A wave of gasps echoes among the girls, and you instinctively tense, butterflies fluttering as everyone tries to guess what this means. A bombshell, surely—it has to be.

“Girls, stay where you are with your blindfolds on,” Leo continues. Your jaw drops, excitement sparking as the tension in the air thickens. You can feel the guys shuffling around, some making teasing comments, others exchanging quick words. Suddenly, Theo’s hand is on your cheek, steadying you, and then his lips press against yours in a familiar, gentle kiss that makes your stomach flip.

“You better not enjoy it,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone carrying a playful but unmistakably serious edge. You let out a soft laugh, unable to help yourself. His hands linger for a second longer, and then you hear his footsteps retreat as he joins the other boys, leaving you and the other girls alone, blindfolded, and eagerly wondering who is about to walk in.

It takes only a few minutes before you hear the villa doors swing open, followed by the whispers of the boys on the balcony. Anticipation curls in your stomach as you wait, feeling every second drag out longer at the end of the line. The girls beside you giggle nervously, and you try to calm the growing thrill in your chest.

Suddenly, you hear the boys erupt in a chorus of surprised shouts, and confusion spikes—what could be causing such a reaction? Then, out of nowhere, a firm hand grips your chin, tilting your head up. Before you can even process what’s happening, warm, insistent lips press to yours in a kiss that is as bold as it is demanding.

The kiss catches you off guard, yet you find yourself instinctively leaning into it, feeling the urgency and heat of his touch. His hand tilts your jaw, deepening the kiss, while your fingers cling to his shirt for stability. The kiss is almost dizzying, and there’s something achingly familiar about it—the way his mouth moves over yours with a teasing, all-consuming intensity.

As he finally pulls away, his breath is warm against your ear. “Missed me?” The low, unmistakable voice sends a rush through you. Rafe. You let out a small, surprised laugh, giving him a playful shove, though your lips can’t help but lift in a smile. Rafe here? In the villa? As the new bombshell?

“What are you smiling for?” Theo’s voice cuts through the air from the balcony, irritation evident in his tone. Biting back a laugh, you hear Rafe’s deep, confident chuckle as he reaches up, pulling off your blindfold. Blinking in the bright sunlight, you see Rafe before you, grinning with a finger pressed to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.

Your eyes widen, the thrill of the situation hitting all at once. Without another word, he takes your hand, guiding you toward the steps with an air of cool confidence. Your gaze darts to the balcony, catching sight of Theo’s expressionless face, though the way his hands clenched at his sides told you he wasn't happy.

But before you can react, Rafe’s already leading you down the stairs. When you finally spot the villa door, it all clicks—you’re about to go on a date with him. Heart racing, you follow him outside, your head still spinning from the kiss and the whirlwind of it all.

~

“Your hair’s different,” you blurt out as soon as you both sit down, the words slipping out before you can filter them. Rafe chuckles, rubbing a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. “Yeah, wanted a change, y’know?” His gaze holds steady on you, and you feel the intensity as he takes in your features, studying you like he’s trying to remember every detail.

It’s surreal, sitting across from him after all this time. It’s been two years since you walked away from him, two years since you left the Outer Banks and everything that came with it. And now here he is, in Spain, on Love Island of all places. You try to shake off the memories and give him a warm, genuine smile. “So… how are you?” you ask, curious but careful.

Back then, Rafe had been drowning in a world of drugs and alcohol, and now you can’t help but wonder if the man in front of you has changed. His response is immediate, almost as if he’d anticipated the question. “I’m clean. If that was what you were wondering.” His tone is steady, but there’s an underlying edge, as if he’s been waiting for this chance to prove himself.

The swiftness of his answer catches you off guard, and he seems to notice, softening as he continues, “Since you left, I got my shit together. Took over Dad’s business. I’ve changed, Y/n.” His voice carries a sincerity that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, you see a different side of him—a version of Rafe who’s fought his own battles and come out the other side.

You reach across the table, your fingers brushing his as you give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad to hear that, Rafe. Really.” His eyes drop to your hand, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his expression before you release him, pulling back. But he clears his throat, shifting slightly. “You’re with Theo?” he asks, his tone laced with curiosity as he leans back, watching your reaction.

You nod, meeting his gaze head-on. “Yeah? Didn’t seem like your type,” he says with a hint of his familiar teasing edge, though his eyes betray a flash of something deeper. You smirk, taking a sip of your drink. “Maybe my type changed when I moved to the city,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. His mouth quirks up, but before he can counter, you find yourself asking.

“Why me? You could’ve chosen any other girl to pull for a date—” “Because it’s you,” he cuts in, his voice soft but firm, like he’s been holding back those words for ages. The air shifts, and your lips part in surprise, your mind racing to come up with a response. But before you can, he leans in, his gaze piercing. “And because I’ve missed you.”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Two years, miles apart, and yet here he is, still managing to unearth that old feeling buried deep inside. You don’t know what to say, the memories flooding back, bringing a rush of emotions you thought you’d left behind. “Give us another chance,” Rafe says, his voice filled with conviction as his eyes search yours.

You press your lips together, glancing down as a flood of emotions tugs you in different directions. A part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. After everything, after two years apart, he’s here in Spain asking for another chance. He looks different, sounds different, and maybe he’s changed, but the past still lingers, and you’re not sure you can trust him, or even yourself, to dive back in.

“Rafe…” you begin slowly, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I’m not going to lie—I’m skeptical. Things were messy between us before, and I don’t know if that’s something we can just… fix.” He nods, an understanding smile playing at his lips. “I get it. I don’t expect you to just jump back into this. I know I messed up. But I’ve worked on myself, and I want a chance to show you who I am now.”

You sigh, your fingers toying with the stem of your glass as you process his words. “I do see a difference in you… and I don’t want to just shut you out. Maybe we can give it another try, see if there’s still something here.” You bite your lip, feeling the flicker of hope you’re trying to keep under control.

“But I need you to know I’m not doing this lightly. If I’m going to open that door again, I need to be sure you’re all in.” Rafe’s expression softens, and he reaches across the table, his hand gently covering yours. “I’m all in. Whatever it takes. I just want a chance to make it right.” A small smile forms on your lips, and against all the doubts, you nod. “Okay, let’s try.”

[thewonandonly]

LONGING FOR YOU

PLAYLIST : spotify

PAIRING : pro-baseball player!jaehyun x fem!college student!reader

GENRE : fluff, smut

PROMPT : "if you were my little girl, i'd do whatever i could do, i'd run away and hide with you." au

WC : 15,323 words

WARNINGS : strong language, sports medicine student!reader, reader used to play volleyball, teeny tiny age gap (reader is early 20's, jaehyun is irl age), greek life, jaehyun is implied to be a (former) frat brother (never officially states it), frat party, drinking/alcohol, there is a mention of puke/vomit, mention of overstimulating setting, cameo by yeri :3, mark, and johnny, consent is sexy, protection is hot, lots and lots of praise, BRIEF locker room sexual tension bc i had to, ig it can be considered a kind of sugar daddy au?, jaehyun has no rizz 🗣️, penetration (f), oral (m + f),

AUTHOR'S NOTE : jaehyun military enlistment 😞 jerma helped me write this thats why it took so long. forgive me for the horrendous explicit scene i quite literally have not written full length smut in so long. and also, jaehyun jaehyun jaehyun jaehyun jaehyun jaehyun. :3 that's all.

DISCLAIMER : the characters in this story are to be allusions to real people, and none of the situations, personalities, and actions found here should reflect reality. this story was created with zero intention to violate the images of the artists.

"Come on, come to the party with me!" Yeri groaned, tugging on your arm as if you were her mother and she was your child begging for a toy.

You sighed, rubbing your temples, "I would love to, but I've got work I've gotta do." It was the seventh time — yes, all in one day — where Yeri has asked you to join her at this giant frat party that her friend, Johnny, who happened to be the RA where said party was being held, invited her to. She would've loved to go by herself, but she planned to consume insane amounts of alcohol and would require someone with wonderful bedside manner, i.e. you. 

Yeri groaned, throwing her head back dramatically, "All you do is do your homework." She complained, "I'm sure the wonderful science behind athletic medicine can wait for one night off."

"I'm sorry, Yeri, but my entire scholarship is riding on this." You mumbled, watching Yeri groaned louder, as her head moved forward, trudging her way out your bedroom doorway.

You would be ecstatic to go to some lame party down University Road. You'd love to get drunk, hook up with some dude who is looking to hit. You'd love to take a break, but, unfortunately, your life after you graduate was already starting. You had 29 thousand dollars and two internships invested in your future. If you wanted to be an accredited professional in athletic medicine, you'd have to focus, and not get distracted or discouraged. 

But, then again, you're still young. You're only getting closer to the end, and Yeri is busy with her cheerleading career. You'd rather not lose this connection. Glancing at the clock, you noticed as the second hand tick away, sighing softly. It was thirty to 12. The night was still young.

You turned in your chair, calling to her, a small laugh escaping your lips as she looked at you with eyes that looked as if she was a kicked puppy, "I'll go."

Her face immediately lit up and she smiled, "You will?"

You held up your hands in surrender, standing from your cluttered desk, "You're right, as much as I hate to admit it. The world of medicine can wait."

"I'm so happy right now." She cheered happily, "Okay, I'll let you get ready. I'll take a quick shower and everything." She turned the corner into the hallway and you heard the shower run.

Sighing, you opened your closet door and analyzed the clothes on the hangers. You didn't have any "sexy" outfits, so to speak. Everything was strictly professional clothing, especially considering you had your internships around the corner. But, who could show up to a frat party in high rise, flared dress pants? Maybe it was time to break out the clothes you packed right out of high school. 

Once you tore through the boxes, pulled on the clothes, you could swear they grew tighter, which was normal; you were still growing, in more areas than one. You opted for sticking to the items you chose, for the most risqué look, considering it was a frat party.

Yeri was quick to get in and out of the shower, quick to get her makeup done, and quick to get dressed. You're sure she was going to be quick to get out the door as well.

You leaned against the wall to pull on your shoes, watching Yeri immediately grow frazzled as she struggled to find her keys, which were normally in the catch bowl, but was strategically hug up on the key hook earlier for convenience. 

The trip to the Pi Phi house wasn't far, but the blistering cold wind bit at your nose and cheeks as you and Yeri both walked down the road from your apartment to the frat house.

You both turned the corner, your jaws opening in shock. 

The Pi Phi house was huge, damn near 3 floors. And much to your dismay, it wasn't a new brother of the house at the door, it was two sisters from the Kappa Omega Pi sorority. They seemed nice, letting in quite a few people, until they turned away another girl. 

You looked to Yeri, sighing softly, "I don't think we're gonna get in." The small queue was moving quickly.

Yeri rolled her eyes so far back you were sure they'd get stuck, "Relax. If they don't let us in, I've got an in." She rubbed her hands together, the cold chill in the air slowly building, "God, fuck! It's fucking cold."

"Just don't think about it. We're almost to the front." You mumbled, stepping forward up onto the porch, watching the girl's faces drop at the sight of you after letting two guys inside.

They gave the two of you a once over, exhaling a deep breath through their nose, "It's six bucks to get in."

Yeri pulled out her phone, scoffing, "That's not what it says on the flyer." She turned her phone to the girls, giving a smartalick smirk, "And, besides, I know Johnny." 

The girls looked at each other, chuckling, "You know Johnny?"

Yeri crossed her arms, motioning to the open front door of the frat house, "Go on. Go get him."

One of the girls stepped inside, and walked out in seconds, a tall male peeking his head out, pulling a face at the girl, "Come on, you're really asking if Yeri can come in?" He nodded his head to the two of you. 

Yeri smiled at the girls, waving to them before turning to you and speaking over the music that grew significantly louder as you walked through the crowded hallways, "Those girls were definitely not girls girls."

"Aren't the Kappa Omega Pi sisters like really tightknit with Pi Phi?" You responded, watching your temporary escort split off from the two of you.

"Yeah," Yeri sighed, "Let's not worry about them, though! Let's just have fun!" She immediately turned a corner and you found yourself by your lonesome, squeezing past people with small whispers of "Excuse me's" and "Sorry's" before you finally made your way into the kitchen where it wasn't as crowded, but was definitely still filled with a few people. Pi Phi brothers and Kappa Omega Pi sisters were lined up along a wall where they took pictures together to show their love for their greek life. Your hand moved to grab at a bottle of Michelob Ultra, pouring it into the cup while you stared at the group taking photos. Maybe a social outing wasn't the best idea, considering the setting. You weren't much of a—

"Hey." Someone reached over and set the glass bottle down on the counter, laughing softly, "Your cup." 

You tore your eyes away from where you were staring, glancing down at the cup filled with foam from the beer, "Oh." You mumbled softly, glancing up at the person who was kind enough to take the empty bottle from your hand, "Thanks."

You watched him dump out the foamy beer into the sink, grabbing another plastic cup and beer, slowly pouring it out in front of you, "Here." 

"Thanks." You mumbled out again, grabbing the cup from his outstretched hand. It was dim in the kitchen, much to your dismay, only a string of Christmas lights you weren't sure the brothers ever took down from the passing holiday. You squinted your eyes to try to get a glimpse at who this person was for pouring your drink out. "I recognize you from somewhere."

"Damn, dude, what's taking so long?" A voice spoke over your own, at a much louder octave. He patted the guy on his shoulder, "Gotta celebrate your big game tomorrow."

Your brows pinched together as you assessed the voice, "Mark?" You questioned, your eyes squinting more, almost blinded by your lashes.

The shorter male turned to look at you, "Woah, Y/N, bro, I didn't even know you were here!" He smiled, laughing out loud, "What's up?" He asked.

"You're Pi Phi?" You asked him, waving awkwardly at him, "I didn't know you were part of the greek life."

"I didn't know you were either." Mark laughed again, "Bro, that's crazy. I didn't know you were in a sorority."

The unknown man turned to pour out some drinks, Mark's hand holding onto his shoulder for balance as people shoved their way through. 

"Oh, I'm not." You shook your head, taking a sip of the beer poured into the cup, "Yeri was able to get us in."

"Yeri's here?" Mark began to whip his head around, looking for the mentioned lady, "Dude, I didn't know she'd be here." His hand began to slap at the other's shoulder.

"Guess it's time you get over your fear." The other called to Mark, who grabbed three of the cups in his hand.

"Oh, I completely forgot." He motioned between the three of them, "Uh, Jaehyun, this is Y/N, she's in my athletic science class. The one I was telling you about!" 

The man, now named Jaehyun, waved his free hand at you, "Nice to meet you."

"Man, Y/N's, like, the smartest girl in the class! She knows a lot about that stuff." Mark nudged him, "Maybe once she completes her residency, she can be your primary physician." He teased.

"You play sports?" You questioned, taking another sip of the beer from the cup, "What do you play?"

"Baseball. Nothing too exciting."

"Does he play sports? He's in the ML." Mark seemed more excited about it than Jaehyun was, your smile growing as you saw Jaehyun roll his eyes. "ML means major league." 

"I know what it means, Mark." You laughed, "But, hey, congratulations! It must be nice." You smiled to Jaehyun, "Have you always wanted to play major league?"

Jaehyun shrugged, "Got scouted in high school. Johnny was the one who convinced me to accept it."

Mark laughed, "Well, hey, Y/N, it's nice to see you. If you want, we're gonna be at the couch with everyone." He used his elbow to motion over to the center of the house, "No pressure!"

You nodded, "Yeah, sure. I can help you carry some of the cups." You grabbed two of the cups from the counter in one hand, following the two of them back over to the couch where Johnny, Yeri, and other attendees sat, including the girls from the front door. You squatted slightly to place the cups down on the coffee table, wincing softly as you felt your knee creak.

"You okay?" Jaehyun, who wandered behind you to sit down, asked, his hand lingering on your back as you stumbled.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." You laughed awkwardly, sitting down on the couch, "Old injury." You waved it off, taking another drink of your beer.

Mark found a spot next to Yeri, smiling softly as he greeted her and began conversating with her. You glanced at the two, chuckling softly as you watched Mark's cheeks turn pink.

You heard a jumble of words from Jaehyun, turning your head back to him, "What was that?" You leaned closer to him to hear him over the music playing over the subwoofer speakers.

"What from, if you don't mind me asking?" He repeated into your ear, his breath gently fanning across your cheek.

"I used to play volleyball." You shrugged, "Liberio, so, I normally fell on my knees." Your hand found it's way to the cap of your knee, rubbing it with your hand.

"Used to?"

"Yeah. I stopped playing after the injury." You laughed, nodding your head, "But, my doctor was really sweet. She actually helped me to study up until the entrance exam." 

Jaehyun nodded his head, "Well, I know myself and other athletes will be happy for your help." 

You smiled, laughing softly, "I hope." You turned slightly to look at him as he sat back against the couch, his arm resting over the back, "Do you like the major leauge?" Setting down your cup, you looked at him.

Jaehyun shrugged, "It's nice. I've been on a training regimen since I started. I mostly joined just cause I love baseball, though." He smiled, the cup resting in his hand on top of his thigh, "But, I mean, the coach and my teammates are pretty cool. And the pay isn't bad."

"I bet." You chuckled softly, "At least you get to do what you love." You smiled at him.

"How do you-"

"When are you-"

You both spoke over one another, both of you laughing.

Jaehyun motioned to you, "You go first." He reached his hand up to lean his head against it, looking at you.

"I was just gonna ask how you know Johnny and Mark." You shook your head, "I know you said that Johnny encouraged you to accept the scouting offer in high school. But, how'd you meet Mark?"

Jaehyun laughed, his hand reaching up to rub his temples, "Well, it's a pretty funny story." He started, glancing at Mark, who continued to talk Yeri's ear off, "He kinda joined the frat after finding out I was apart of it. I was only apart of it for a month, but, you know, sometimes people just get close."

"Well, if I do say so myself, it seems Mark is ecstatic that he knows you personally." You nodded to Jaehyun.

"I'm glad."

Yeri turned to you quickly, tapping your shoulder, "Hey, Y/N." She called to you, pulling your sight away from Jaehyun to look at her, "Wanna dance?"

You glanced at Jaehyun, and back at her, your mouth open and shutting like a golfish, "I-I really shouldn't... My knee."

Yeri groaned, "Come on! I love this song." She pouted, rubbing her hands together as she silently pleaded.

It was true, she did love this song. God, the amount of times she'd play this song in the car would make you nauseous. And you didn't have much of a choice when she pulled you up from where you were sitting to drag you into the crowd of people dancing to the music.

"How are you and Mark?" You called into her ear, the two of you holding hands as you both lazily danced.

Yeri glanced back at Mark, who was happily comversating with Jaehyun and Johnny, giggling like a little kid before she turned to you, "He's so much fun to talk to." She smiled.

You smiled back, happy to see her happy. "I'm glad." You responded, "Plus, he really likes you. You know he can't hide his feelings well." You glanced back at the three, glancing at your feet as you caught Jaehyun's eye.

Your friend smirked, laughing softly, "Oh, I see what's going on." She nudged your shoulder, which you rubbed with your hand as you looked at her, "You've got the hots for number 16." Yeri teased.

"What?" Your voice came out slightly higher, considering the assumption, "No, no." You shook your head, "I just met him."

"Doesn't mean you can't find him hot." She nudged you again, "Johnny told me he was expecting him to come tonight." She pulled out her phone, opening the tab of her browser to show you the search. "Jung Jaehyun, major league pitcher." In the middle of the crowd, you glanced between the phone and the man who sat on the couch, "Number 16." Yeri's finger clicked on a photo of Jaehyun, the front of the jersey embroidered with big red letters that read, "Sentinels".

"Wow." It's all you could say. You knew Mark said he was in major league, but you didn't think that major. You were thinking maybe small hometown baseball that made it big. "He even has a trading card?"

Yeri nodded, locking her phone before putting it back in her pocket, "He's big." She nodded her head, "Professional Sentinels player, going on his fourth year with the team."

You were flabbergasted. No wonder Mark was so excited telling you.

Standing there, you thought for a second, "If he's so big, why isn't anyone freaking out about him being here?" You raised an eyebrow.

Yeri raised her own brow, "You'll be surprised how many athletics students don't watch athletics." She hummed, nodding her head at her own statement.

"Okay, well, now that you told me this, I'll just feel like a gold digger." You rubbed your neck shyly, completely unaware the end of the song just as another one kicked up.

"Shut up." She scrunched up her face again, grabbing your hand to lead you back to the couch where you both were previously sat, "You're fine. You're nothing like a gold digger."

"Welcome back!" Johnny called, motioning to the couch.

Yeri sat the both of you down, smiling at Mark as soon as she got comfortable, taking the cup from his hand to take a sip.

You sat down, Jaehyun to your right and Yeri to your left. 

Jaehyun's whole hand covered the top of the cup he held, slowly passing it to you, "I held onto your drink while you were gone." He smiled.

"Oh, thank you." You nodded to him, taking a small swig of the drink, glancing at him shyly.

He wore much more lax clothing; a black long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants, various rings along his fingers and a silver necklace with an charm you couldn't quite see as it was flipped over. You glanced away, watching Jaehyun smile softly as you took another sip.

"What?" You questioned, blushing softly as he continued to stare.

"Nothing. Nothing." He mumbled, "Just... don't drink too much." 

You smiled softly, setting the now empty cup down on the table, "Don't worry. I normally only have one drink and I'm done." You sat back on the couch, looking at him.

You both sat there for a second, not saying anything. Jaehyun would glance over the back of the couch every once in a while, meeting the hands of other members of Greek life, making small conversations with them, or even sharing a few laughs as they conversed. Sometimes Johnny or Mark would join in.

Slowly, you felt your social battery slowly drain, and you whispered to Yeri to share where you'd be going; outside, in the expansive, empty backyard of the frat house, away from the music, crowds and smell of alcohol in the air.

You sighed softly as you relaxed against a chair in the backyard, glancing down at your phone to slowly recharge your own battery.

Yet, it seemed like despite being away, your thoughts and fingers lingered back to Jaehyun, typing his name across the keyboard into the search bar.

There were articles about him, fan pages, compilation videos of some of his pitches and plays. Professional photos and fan captures. He really was larger than life. 

The baseball uniform he wore was clean and pristine aside from the red dirt across the left side of his body, and after much digging, you found out that after batting, he'd reach a base by sliding. 

You found yourself diving headfirst into doom scrolling about Jaehyun, his career, what people thought about him. His record with the team was clean, and his ability was impressive. He was often claimed as MVP of his team, giving them several wins in their games.

The sliding door opening was enough to have you scrambling to lock your phone and set it down in your lap. You glanced behind you, finding it was nothing more than another guest at the frat party, gagging as they turned the corner to spill their guts. 

You pulled a face, standing up to move back inside to the party, the sudden smell of puke and alcohol mixing making you feel sick, mixing together just as you opened the door to step back inside. 

You recharged your social battery just enough to continue talking before Yeri wanted to leave, yet it dropped right back down again as the smell settled around you. Did it always smell like sweat? Did the floor always feel sticky? Did the counters have all those cups on them? 

Everything felt so overwhelming.

"Hey, are you okay?" 

It's the second time that voice has asked you if you were feeling okay. You pull your eyes away from looking at the scene before you to look at Jaehyun, whose eyes were softened.

"I was just about to check on you." He mumbled.

"I'm okay." You took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling, "It's a little overwhelming in here." 

"Yeah." Jaehyun chuckled, letting him step behind you to slowly guide you away from the big group of people, "Here. This way you can get the best of both worlds." Jaehyun leaned beside you against the wall close to the front door, holding the brim of his plastic cup with his fingers, glancing around at the group as it only grew bigger.

"Thank you." You whispered, crossing your legs as you leaned against the wall, "Hey, so, I know Mark said you were in major league, and... Yeri kinda showed me the google search about you."

Jaehyun laughed softly, "Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Sentinels."

"Yeah." You nodded, looking at him, "Must be cool going places and getting recognized." 

He shrugged, "I mean, it's all the same. Often times people don't know it's me without a cap or a batting helmet." Jaehyun nodded, "It is pretty cool having a trading card, though." He smiled to you, turning to look at you.

"I saw that! Did you see how much someone's willing to pay for a signed one?" You chuckled.

"Yeah, I did." He laughed too, "Can't believe someone has that much money to spend on a piece of paper. Especially when I started not too long ago."

"Well, I mean, you do get that type of money." You nudged him, feeling your uneasiness quickly disappearing as you spoke to him.

Jaehyun shook his head, "Most of it goes to bills and taxes." A group of some Pi Pho frat brothers pushed by, forcing Jaehyun into you, his arm above your head to make sure he didn't crush you, "Jesus fu- Christ." He didn't finish the swear, glancing at you, "Are you okay?" He glanced at the people sprinting by, one slipping and dropping their cup of alcohol.

"I'm fine." You whispered, "Fine."

Jaehyun leaned his arm on the wall, right above your head. His face was close enough to see the details. He smelt good — like rose and ember; so much so that it was intoxicating. His dimples and his eyes as he smiled, the faint stubble along his chin and his upper lip. The necklace hanging from his neck, the emblem still flipped backwards; you were beginning to think he put it on backwards for it to face away from others. As you appreciated his features you realized that perhaps he was sculpted from marble by Michelangelo himself. 

The faint smell of alcohol from his red solo cup and a puddle of the spilled liquor from the brothers swirled around the both of you. The song changed beat and volume, glancing around the corner to find Johnny turning up the dial, the bass nearly blowing out your eardrums.

"Don't you have a game tomorrow?" You spoke into his ear over the music, feeling your heart flutter as he turned his head slightly so you didn't have to move much.

He chuckled, shrugging, "It's kinda tradition to visit before a game." He responded, his lips gently brushing against your cheek as he spoke.

You nodded as he moved back to his position, smiling at him, "So, do you always linger around the university or...?"

"No," He shook his head, and you can see the liquid courage glossing his eyes, "But, I mean, if I got to find someone as beautiful as you, maybe it's not a bad idea." Someone nudged behind him, causing him to straighten up with his chest hitting your own. He had you pressed flush against the wall, but he obviously wasn't focused on that as he glanced behind him, "A lot of energy for you students." He laughed as he looked back at you, "Must be nice to be young."

You laughed, smiling at him, "Aren't you only 27?"

"Well, yeah, but..." He playfully rolled his neck over his shoulders, "At some point in time, these old bones have to rest."

"And you decided to do that at an old frat house with a bunch of newly turned 21 year olds?"

He shrugged again, "Better than the old farts in the league." He glanced around the party, noticing multiple of the attendees either drinking to their restless end, making out with some of the bubbly blonde sorority sisters or passed out on the ground, table or couch. He noticed Mark talking up a storm with Yeri, and Johnny handing out more drinks to guests, "But, you're right. Wanna head out?"

"Yo-you wanna leave with me?" You stammered.

He laughed, "Yeah!" He smiled, his dimples making an appearance once more, "How rare is it that I meet a beautiful woman here among all these girls?"

You blushed at his compliment, smiling before nodding your head, "Yeah. Yeah, let's head out." You stood up straight, Jaehyun pushing away from the wall, "Let me just let Yeri know where I'm gonna be at." You stepped around him, making your way over to the couch where Yeri sat, "Yeri." You tapped her shoulder, and when she didn't turn around you called her again, "Yeri!"

"What?" She turned to you, "Is something wrong?"

"I'm heading out." You spoke into her ear, "With Jaehyun."

Yeri smirked, nudging your shoulder, "Come on, stop messing with me." She laughed.

"I'm not messing with you!" You chuckled, "Hey, you have my location, and maybe I'll be back tonight, most likely tomorrow morning." You gave Mark a wave as you made your way down the hallway once more.

"Use protection!" She called loudly as you walked off, continuing her conversation with Mark. 

You made your way back to where you and Jaehyun were standing previously, catching sight of Jaehyun in the kitchen, bidding Johnny farewell with a one-armed hug and an untraditional handshake. The two were laughing as they both finished up their conversation, Jaehyun walking straight towards you, "You ready?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

Jaehyun took your hand in his own, guiding you out of the frat house. The silence of the night was a comforting contrast to the loud frat party you were both victims of attending. The rustle of the leaves, the sound of wind whistling. It was the only sounds you could hear as your ears adjusted to the noise disappearing. 

The street lamps gave you better sight of Jaehyun's figure. His arms were ripped, to say the least. He had veins crawling up from his hand to his elbow, and his hand was a little rough, calloused skin from swinging baseball bats for a lifetime. 

The two of you approached a fairly new car, but still a few years behind the recent model. Jaehyun unlocked the door, and pulled open the passenger side.

"Thanks." You whispered, settling into the seat. You slowly buckled in the seatbelt, Jaehyun gently closing the door just as the realization just set in that you were in the car with a national professional athlete. The butterflies began to fly from your stomach into your throat, and you were worried if you even spoke that you'd just embarrass yourself.

Jaehyun climbed into the driver's seat, sighing softly as he reached up to stick the key into the ignition, "Sorry. I didn't expect to bring anyone back with me, so, I brought my less inconspicuous car." He chuckled softly.

"No, no! It's fine. I mean, you're already one step ahead of me. I don't even have a license, so, I have no right to judge." You matched his chuckle, smiling at him. "Besides, there's something more humble about an old 2008 Honda Civic." 

Jaehyun let the car warm up for a second before he pulled off from the curb, his hand lingering on the stick shift, his foot lingering on the clutch. 

You began to admire his hands once more. He had slender fingers, his wrist was adorned by a silver cuban link bracelet, another vein wrapping around his arm and ending at his bicep. You could tell he's worked out, but not too much. I mean, he is a professional athlete for a living, so him working out wasn't much of a surprise. Just as he stopped at a stop light, you pulled your eyes from his form and glanced out the window. 

The both of you drove through the heart of the city, your eyes catching the bright lights as you stared at the window. It was a nice difference from University Road. The quiet melody of music played from the radio, filling the tense silence between the two of you. Jaehyun clearly kept the car in good shape. There were zero stains on the seating, the steering wheel and bulb of the stick shift were a little worn from where his hands rested, the radio seemed intact.

Jaehyun continued to drive, clearing his throat, "You can change the channel, if you'd like to." He motioned to the radio, before he quickly downshifted, "I have a bunch of CD's in the glove box."

You took the initiative to open the glove box, smiling to yourself as you saw the CD case, unzipping and opening it. You weren't sure if you were smiling because he seemed like such an old soul for keeping CD's for his older car, or because it looked like the CD's were all in alphabetical order. "Crazy Town?" You questioned teasingly.

There was a slight tint at the shell of Jaehyun's ear, chuckling, "What can I say? They're revolutionary." He looked into his mirror and over his shoulder as he switched lanes, glancing over at you as he saw you eyeballing him, "What?"

"Just never took you for one who enjoyed rock music like this." You continued to flip through the CD case, seeing various discs of music; including, but not limited to rock, pop, hip hop and r&b. There were more genres that you didn't really recognize and you tried to read the fine print to see if they printed it, but no luck. "I think it's definitely fair to say you listen to every genre."

Jaehyun chuckled, watching you insert the Crazy Town CD into the reader, his hand quickly moving to turn down the volume, "I just listen to music. Genre doesn't matter to me."

You smiled to yourself, slowly turning the volume up as the CD started playing. The silence felt less tense now as the music played between the both of you. Given the circumstances, you needed the tension to die down. 

You looked out the window, not recognizing the area you were in very well, but you definitely recognized the giant building on the side of the road; two tall buildings beside each other, the sign reading "The Hallows".

Jaehyun took a very gentle left turn into the roundabout, stopping right in the middle as he climbed out and passed the keys to his 2008 Honda Civic to the valet. 

"You live... here?" You questioned, staring up at the buildings.

Jaehyun chuckled, grabbing your hand in his, "Yeah." He smiled, "It's pretty nice. Out of the way." He guided you into the lobby of the building, and you were even more awestruck.

Everything in the lobby were either expensively vintage or expensively new. They even had a couch you would see frequently in a magazine you glanced over while you waited in line at the supermarket. A couch you could only dream of purchasing. For this condo — penthouse, seems more likely — complex to have 4 sets of a couch that only the richest people can afford already told you what to expect.

Jaehyun greeted the front desk attendant, calling the elevator for the two of you, his hand holding yours gently. 

A small chime was heard just as the doors to the lift open, and he motioned for you to step inside. You took a step in, glancing at every corner, making eye contact with the camera. 

Jaehyun sighed softly, clicking the floor button as he stepped inside, stopping just beside you. "Sorry if this makes you all uncomfortable." He started, "I realize now just how awkward it might be to show up here. Like I'm showing off."

"No, no, it's not your fault! You make your money the same way I do, you're allowed to spend it where you please." You smiled, "And sometimes where you please to spend it is at a gigantic apartment building, and that's okay." 

Jaehyun chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm just enjoying your company so much, I don't wanna scare you away."

You smiled to yourself, messing with your fingers as you glanced down at your feet, "I'm enjoying your company, too." You chuckle, "A lot."

Jaehyun smiled brightly as the elevator doors opened once more, and grabbed your hand back in his own as he guided you down the hallway, swinging your intertwined hands as he walked. His free hand grabbed his keys and skillfully unlocked the door, allowing you to step inside.

Which you agreed to, and you were met with a large condo, with a window large enough to span across the wall of his condo. The skyline was bright enough to light up the wall straight across from it. There was a giant kitchen, a giant living room. The whole place was giant. 

Jaehyun tossed his keys into a catch bowl by the front door, flicking on the lights.

"It's..." You paused as you continued to take in the sights, "It's beautiful."

"Yeah, my... Johnny and Mark kinda got a little excited with an interior designer and they decorated it like crazy."

You smiled, taking off your shoes to set them to the side before you took a step further. "Did you always have the idea to have an open floor plan?"

"Well, no, but like I said, Johnny and Mark got excited." Jaehyun chuckled, "Gave me a bachelor's pad when I'm hardly even a bachelor."

"Live while you're young." You whispered to yourself as you admired the city line. Jaehyun stopped beside you, but his eyes lingered on your reaction, which he was generally pleased to see.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, his fingers pulling at the cuff of his long sleeved shirt, "So, Mark told me a lot about you." He started.

"Did he mention how I let him cheat off my papers?" You teased, turning to look at Jaehyun.

"No, no, nothing like that." Jaehyun laughed, shaking his head, "But, he did show me your SNS accounts." 

"Oh, that's embarrassing."

"I think you looked amazing." Jaehyun whispered back almost immediately, "But, you look more amazingin person."

"It seems like we both looked up each other."

Jaehyun shrugged, "That's why I wasn't as upset when you did it." He smiled, "Where was I going with this?" He mumbled to himself, "Mark really talked me up for this." 

The tension between you both returned. And it wasn't an awful tension. It was tension that was telling you that obviously something was going to happen. You didn't know how long or what Mark said to him, but you couldn't help but thank Mark for whatever length of time he's been talking to Jaehyun about you.

Jaehyun cleared his throat again, feeling like all the words he prepared for this moment had disappeared from his mind. His eyes that were once watching you turned to look out the window where you were looking previously.

"You don't have to force yourself." You whispered, smiling at him. 

Jaehyun smiled back, turning to look at the couch, "Come on, let's sit down." He sat down on the leather couch, and you could notice he was in his element.

You followed, sitting beside him. 

"You didn't have to come here if you weren't comfortable." He started, his hand finding your own, "I know it's pretty awkward to get picked up at a frat party, and I never meant to put you in a position where you didn't think you could say no."

"Oh, I didn't think of it like that." You chuckled, "Trust me, if I wanted to say no, I would've." 

Jaehyun leaned a little closer, drawing his bottom lip in with his teeth, "Can I kiss you?"

God, you've been waiting for that question all night. Nodding your head, you smiled as Jaehyun's lips pressed against yours. The hands you have been admiring for the last 30 minutes during the car ride were now placed on your hips as he attempted to pull you closer until you were practically on his lap. He tasted of Heinekien beer, and spearmint, and you began to question when and where did he get gum or mouth spray from. Despite the mix, his lips were soft, and they were tender against your own.

Jaehyun pulled away slowly after a moment of kissing you, his hands lingering on your waist, his eyes opening to look into your own.

You both shared a small laugh, a lingering peck placed on his lips.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." Jaehyun whispered, letting a sigh escape his lips.

Glancing at your phone's time, you chuckled, "Can't be anymore than 2 hours." You teased, "But, if it's any consolation, I've been thinking about it too."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, "You really aren't aware of how much Mark's been trying to set me up with you." He whispered.

"Is that so?" You raised an eyebrow, "How long?"

Jaehyun sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Months, at least." He leaned his head against the back of the couch, the hair he pushed back falling back into his eyes, "He's been trying to set me up with you for the longest. Johnny, too."

You rolled your eyes, "You're telling me that tonight was one giant ploy to get us to finally meet?"

"No, no, definitely not. That was a frat party, through and through. But, I'm happy we could've met there." Jaehyun gently grabbed your hand, pressing soft kisses to your fingers.

"Are you always this romantic?" 

"Only with people I actually have feelings for."

"And that implies that there's people that you have had feelings for."

Jaehyun chuckled, "It does. But, none of them were you." He smiled, intertwining his fingers with your own. You looked at the size of his hand compared to yours, the length of his fingers compared to yours. Jaehyun had height, and his hands definitely matched that; slender fingers, thick veins, soft skin. His nails were well kept too, considering what he did for a living.

His words repeated in your head, and you had to stop yourself from smiling. To be desired and admired for that long, with nothing but Mark's words and your social media posts to hold him over. 

"Why didn't you just follow me and talk to me?" You chuckled, watching him kiss your hand and wrist.

"It's not like I have a personal account. I only have my professional one for work." He whispered softly, "Plus, I had to see if you were interested first. I'm not good at that over text." 

You rolled your eyes, "Excuses."

Jaehyun chuckled, "Maybe a little. I just didn't want to swing and miss." He smiled, "I have an idea." He sat a little closer, his fingers playing with your own again, "Why don't you come to the game tomorrow? I have one pass left."

"I don't know a single thing about baseball." 

"That's fine." He smiled, "I'm not expecting you to figure out the miles per hour of my fastball. I just... I think I'd do better with you there." 

"Who else is gonna be there?"

"Johnny, Mark, and your friend. Mark wanted to show off." Jaehyun's dimples made another appearance, and you couldn't help your heart racing behind your ribcage. "You don't have to say yes, but I'll be happy if you were there."

You thought for what felt like minutes, but in reality, it was nothing but seconds, "Yeah. I think it'd be fun."

"Unless we totally lose." He chuckled, "My only excuse would be that I was too distracted by you."

"Are you always this cheesy?" You smiled, shaking your head.

Jaehyun met your smile with his own, "I can be." He shrugged.

"It's cute." You whispered, "I'd love to see you play, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun was physically fighting his excitement, giving another shy smile, "Great. Great." He chuckled, squeezing your hand. "If that's the case, we should probably head to bed then. We've gotta be up early if we wanna make it in time."

"Right." Your hand reaches for your phone in your back pocket, and you open your contacts, getting ready to call a taxi to pick you up, "I can get a cab ride home."

"I was thinking..." He locked your phone, "Maybe you could spend the night here." He whispered shyly. 

"Oh." You thought for a second, "Oh!" 

Jaehyun chuckled, "Doesn't have to be anything more than innocent, if that's what you want." He stood up from the couch, your hand lingering in his. "Come on, I have some clothes you can wear."

"Please don't tell me you're gonna dress me up like Adam Sandler." You stood up, letting him guide you down the long hallway to his — once again — gigantic bedroom. The lighting was dim, and you would've thought he had the lights on the entire day if it wasn't for the sound of the switch flipping. There was a bay window adjacent to the bed set of velvety black duvet, sheets and dark stained bed frame. 

Jaehyun let you linger by the door while he wandered off to somewhere around the corner, only to return with a red dirt stained baseball jersey and a pair of sweats you were sure weren't going to fit you. "Here you go."

You snapped back from admiring his bedroom to grab the clothes, smiling at him, "Did you wash this?"

Jaehyun nodded, "Red dirt stains. Only way to get it out is power washing." 

"Good enough for me." You laughed, "Where should I change?"

"Oh! Right, right." He stepped behind you to guide you by your shoulders to the double bathroom, "You can change in here." He looked at you through the mirror, smiling softly, "And, if you aren't comfortable with us sleeping in the same bed, I can always take the guest room."

"You have a guest room, too?" You chuckled, setting the spare clothes he gave you on the counter.

"Yeah. The bed isn't as comfortable in there as it is in here, though." Jaehyun continued to watch you through the mirror before he turned his eyes away and walked out of the bathroom, "I'll let you get changed." He nodded, shutting the door behind him.

You took a little longer to admire the bathroom, your fingers running across the granite counter, the big mirror and the nice black sinks. He had a walk-in shower, lined with dark grey tile. You peeked around the sliding door to the shower, catching sight of a shower ledge where the occupant could sit. 

You smiled to yourself before you turned to start changing your clothes, pulling on the clothes Jaehyun was nice enough to offer. It smelled like him. And they were nice and soft.

You folded up the clothes you wore to the party, setting them to the side of the sink closest to the door, gently opening the door.

Jaehyun sat on the edge of the bed, standing up as soon as you stepped out, "Hey."

"Hi."

"They look better on you than on me." Jaehyun chuckled softly, blushing a soft pink, pushing his hair back with his hand, "I knew they would."

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly, "Is this your way of saying you wanna see me wear your clothes more often?"

"Yes, definitely." He wore clear framed glasses, andyou could swear you saw them fogging up from the blush growing on his cheeks. "I definitely want to see you in my clothes more often." He grabbed your hand in his own, squeezing it gently.

"We'll see." You teased, squeezing his hand back.

Jaehyun smiled, "Did you think... about...?" He pointed at the bed, silently asking. 

"If you want me to, I can sleep in the guest room." You started, "I mean, it's your bedroom. I am a guest."

"I have no issue sleeping in the guest room. The whole bed thing... that was a joke." Jaehyun cleared his throat, obviously tense. "The mattress in the other room is just the right amount of soft and stiff."

You had to stifle the laugh that threatened to leave. "Jaehyun, really, I don't have an issue sleeping in the guest room."

He nodded his head, "Okay, okay." He smiled awkwardly, "But, really, I wouldn't mind if you stayed in here with me. Just put this whole thing behind us." He laughed.

"Hm, that might be easier." You continued to hold his hand as you sat on the edge of the bed, "As long as you promise to not crush me."

"Don't worry. I sleep like a log. Fall asleep in one position, wake up in the morning in the same." He held up his hands in defense, "I also promise to try to keep my hands to myself."

"Haha." You laughed sarcastically, sitting him beside you.

"I'm just kidding. I'll keep my hands to myself if you want me to." He nudged you, intertwining your fingers together.

"And if I don't?"

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow again, glancing at you, "Then I won't."

You smiled, "Sounds like a plan." You let go of his hand to crawl up to the head of the bed, laying on your side as you rested on a pillow.

"What? Like you not wanting me to keep my hands to myself or...?"

You laughed, "Just come lay down. It's already almost 3am and you said we have to be up early, didn't you?" 

Jaehyun took off his glasses, setting them down on the bedside table, laying down on the pillow next to yours, a soft smile on his face. 

☆

You aren't sure when you fell asleep, and you definitely weren't sure about how you ended up with Jaehyun's arm over your hip, the alarm clock beside his bed blaring the god sound of the "Apex" ring tone. You slowly sat up, rubbing your eye and running your hand through your hair. You took a second to remember the scene of Jaehyun's bedroom before your eyes, turning your head to admire him. You were aware how odd it felt that you were allowing yourself to lay beside him in his bed, wearing his clothes. You weren't sure why you were doing this. 

You tried to convince yourself it was the alcohol you had the night before but you weren't even tipsy, let alone drunk. You could feel the butterflies flutter in your stomach as you thought about the night before, studying his face as he slept. You wondered how many people would kill to see this view. 

"Jaehyun." You whispered, leaning against your hand, brushing some hair from out of his face. 

"Hmm?" He grumbled, obviously half asleep.

"It's 8 a.m." You responded gently, quietly trying to coerce him out of his slumber, "We're gonna be late, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun groaned, pulling his arm back to his chest as he sat up and pressed the stop button on his home screen. He sighed, pulling his legs out of the covers so they could touch the ground. 

Some moment throughout the night, Jaehyun obviously pulled on a large white t-shirt and sweats, expelled the shirt from his body (evident by the white t-shirt thrown at the foot of the bed), and went to sleep. 

His back was muscular, his shoulder blades prominent as he stretched his arms above his head and in front of him. His fingers wiped at his eyes before he pulled on his glasses and stood up to stretch further.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked gruffly, turning to look at you, "I hope I didn't hog the bed too much."

You fought with your eyes as they wanted to linger on the happy trail below his belly button, settling on shutting your eyes as you smiled at him, "It was perfect, Jaehyun."

The sound of rustling sheets made you open your eyes to find Jaehyun on all fours, his face impossibly closer to you, "Good." He whispered, using a hand to pinch your chin with his thumb and index finger, "I've been thinking about kissing you again since last night."

Your cheeks turned red, and your heart raced in your chest. "Why didn't you do something about it earlier then?"

"You looked too beautiful sleeping." He smiled, "But, if you'll allow me, I'd like to do something about it now."

You smiled, "I'll allow it."

Jaehyun chuckled, cupping your cheek to press a kiss against your lips. His lips were still as soft as they were the night before, his hands gently as his thumb rubbed across the skin of your cheek. Despite it feeling like minutes, it was only seconds in reality until Jaehyun pulled away.

"Can I consider that my good luck kiss for tonight?" He asked softly. 

"Yeah." You chuckled, "And if you win, I'll maybe consider giving you a victory kiss as well."

"Sweet." He nodded, moving back to climb off the bed, making his way to the bathroom, "I'm gonna take a quick shower."

"Alright."

"I'll be back."

"'Kay." You smiled as he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, immediately reaching over to the nightstand to grab your phone. 

You don't know what you were thinking staying the night when you didn't even have a change of clothes. You sent Yeri a quick text asking her to grab you a set of clothes, anything would do. Especially something warm. 

You can tell she agreed when she started calling you on Facetime, which you answered.

"How was it?" She asked as soon as the call connected.

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning down the volume as you sat back against the headboard.

Yeri rolled her eyes, sitting up in her own bed, "Come on, share all the details." Her screen switched to "Paused" and you could only assume that she was scrolling either on Instagram or Tw- "Holy shit! You're at the Hallows?"

"Yeah, that's the name of the building."

"Y/N, how out of touch are you?" Yeri started, her face returning to the screen, "The Hallows is where all the famous people live, like Lee Jongsuk and Seo Inguk."

"Well, if you're asking, no, I haven't seen anyone." You started, "The lobby looked expensive, though."

"I've gotta see this!" She stood up, "Okay, tell me what outfit you want then I'll head there."

Yeri entered your room at your shared apartment, opening your closet and turning the camera to show you different shirts, pants and other fabrics. You both took about 30 minutes of the call deciding on a good outfit, before you both settled on something.

"I'll be there in a few. What should I do when I get there?" Yeri asked, folding the clothes neatly into a bag.

"I can grab the clothes from you in the lobby." You nodded, "I'll see you when you get here."

"Bye. Love you."

"Love you, Yeri." You responded before ending the call. 

You heard the shower water come to a stop, and you fully expected Jaehyun to walk out of the bathroom but you sat there, staring at the door as he stood behind it. 

A text from Yeri came through your phone and you stood up, making a slow trek to the front door, which you opened and closed behind you. You remembered the door number, and the floor number, and you memorized the button you'd have to press to get back up. You suddenly felt awkward to even walk down into the lobby wearing Jaehyun's clothes, but the awkwardness melt away as you saw the area empty. Yeri was the only one there, recording herself for her Instagram story. 

She was too absorbed in recording the lobby that when you stood in front of her as the camera panned to you, she jumped, a yelp getting cut off just as she released the button. "Jesus, you scared the crap out of me." She said through a laugh, patting your shoulder. 

"Do I look that bad?" You questioned, grabbing the clothes from her hand.

"No, you don't look bad. You know me." She chuckled, I brought you some extra shoes too, so you don't have to worry about wearing the ones from yesterday." 

"You're awesome."

"It's really nice in here." She started, looking around the lobby, "I almost feel too broke to be here." 

You ran your finger over the clothes, chuckling, "I felt the same." You smiled, "So, how'd it go last night with Mark?" 

Yeri smiled to herself, "Well, I think it went wonderfully." She paused, playing with her keyring, "He asked if I wanted to come with him to Jaehyun's game today." 

"I heard." You laughed, "At least you'll have me to play wingman."

"You're coming too?" She smiled, "Awesome! Now I don't have to be so nervous." 

You laughed, "I've gotta get ready. Jaehyun's already in the shower and everything." You gave her a hug, "Get back safe."

"Text me if anything new happens!"

"Same with you." You called the elevator, watching her walk back out to her car, where you're sure she'd play her song of the week over and over until she got tired of it.

You retraced your steps as you stepped into the elevator, thinking of the night before as Jaehyun clicked the floor button to get you up to his place. The elevator stalled, then moved upwards. 

You felt the same butterflies in your stomach as you rode the elevator up, smiling to yourself as you glanced down at the clothes you held in your arms.

Could you even begin to consider this a date? You thought to yourself, It could be considered nothing more than just visiting Jaehyun's workplace. 

As the elevator stopped, you made your way down the hallway and stopped right outside Jaehyun's front door. You knocked on the door, waiting patiently for him to open the door. Which he opened, to him wearing nothing more than black sweatpants around his waist, his hair dripping droplets down his collarbones. 

"Hi." You looked at him.

"Hey." He chuckled, "I thought you left."

You shook your head, "Without my shoes?"

"Good point." He opened the door a bit wider for you to step inside, which you did.

"Yeri just brought me some clothes to wear for today." You motioned to the folded clothes in your arms.

"That's nice of her." Jaehyun smiled, "You can use the bathroom to change if you'd like." He closed the door, "I'm making something to eat as well."

You nodded, making your way to the bathroom in the hallway, quickly changing into the outfit Yeri and yourself picked out through the video call. It looked almost as nice as you thought when you imagined it. Sure, the black shirt was darker than the washed out black pants, but you think that added to the charm. You folded up the clothes Jaehyun offered the night before on top of the washing machine in the bathroom, slowly opening the door into the hallway once more. 

It smelled of maple syrup and coffee, and you took a seat at the island in Jaehyun's kitchen as you watched him cook. It was simple breakfast food; bacon, eggs and some rice. You spot the coffeepot brewing, the soft sound of the java hitting the glass pot. Jaehyun seems to have taken a step away from the kitchen to pull on a shirt to wear. 

"Thank you." You whispered softly as he set a plate down in front of you of the food, taking a bite of the bacon. 

Jaehyun smiled at you, taking a seat beside you as he started to eat his meal with you as well. It was silent, save for the water used to make the coffee coming to an abrupt halt. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, not at all. It was comfortable. Like sitting in silence together was comforting enough. 

As soon as you both finished, Jaehyun cleaned up, poured himself a quick cup of coffee after offering — which you respectfully decline, "trying to cut back," you'd joke — and grabbed the bags by the door that you didn't notice earlier. A giant duffle back, and a backpack that looked like it's been through Hell and back, littered with handwriting, even some quips from Mark and Johnny. You joined him in The Heights spacious garage, climbing into the newest Genesis model as he opened the door for you after he shoved his bags into the backseat. 

Throughout the car ride, as his phone connected to Bluetooth and changed through the songs, Jaehyun would grab your hand every once in a while, not paying much attention to it as he drove to the stadium. You didn't bother moving your hand. 

Jaehyun pulled into the back of the stadium, parking his car in some obscure area and helped you out. There were news tabloids, sports enthusiasts and paparazzi everywhere, and you felt your heart racing in your throat. But Jaehyun made quickly to avoid them, pulling you in front of him as he stepped through the door before the cameras started flashing. All you saw before it shut was a blinding flash.

Jaehyun sighed softly, adjusting the bag over his shoulder, "This is where we split off." He whispered.

You felt upset. You spent nearly the last 12 hours with him and for him to split off from you now for who knows how long felt so weird. You could tell you grew attached to him.

"Hey," Jaehyun chuckled, "The game doesn't start until 6:30, you've got the rest of the day to chill." His hand trailed down your arm before he grabbed your hand.

"I know." You chuckled, "I do have some homework I was planning to finish from last night, so I could do that while I wait."

Jaehyun smiled, "Great." He rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand, "Come on, I'll show you where you'll sit when the game starts." He began walking, silently passing you his jacket and let you sit down in the front row of the seats, watching as the field attendants chalked the dirt, and maintained the advertisements against the barriers. 

Jaehyun walked off after you sat down, giving you a wave as he walked off to where he needed to go.

You didn't realize how focused on your schoolwork you were until you felt the cold breeze and the loud chatter of other attendees. The stadium lights were turned on and the field attendants you saw hours ago were no longer there. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as people push by your legs; unsure whether you should stand up from the chair to let people through or pull them up to your chest. You pulled on the coat Jaehyun had given to you earlier around your shoulders, waiting patiently by yourself for the other three guests to arrive. 

And when they did, you smiled up at them.

"Yo, Y/N, what's up?" Mark gave you a headnod, sitting on a seat only one away from you. Yeri and Johnny followed behind Mark. Your best friend taking the seat right beside you.

Johnny sighed, "You guys are gonna make the tallest, lankiest guy push through you all?" You could tell he wasn't irritated, clearly making a small joke as he stepped over your feet to sit in the seat beside Mark. He sat down with a sigh, adjusting the jacket over his shoulders.

Mark and Johnny shared a quip with one another, Mark sharing a boisterous laugh like he always did. 

Yeri nudged you, smiling sweetly, "So, what have you been doing while waiting for the entertainment to return?" She asked.

You held up your phone, the word document plastered on the screen, "Homework."

"Like always." She sighed, "You look nice."

"Thanks." You smiled, quickly saving the document before you shoved the phone in the pocket of Jaehyun's jacket.

You and the trio all spoke to one another, talking about school, interests and other things to fill the time before you caught sight of the teams walking through their thresholds.

Attendants around you all began to share chants of their respective teams, some going as far to shout out jeering taunts to fans of the away team.

Johnny and Mark seemed familiar with this, standing from their seats and clapping as the teams prepared with their coaches for the game.

You caught sight of Jaehyun laughing, the mit around his hand worn and clearly aging. He looked around the stands, waving to fans before he stopped and glanced at you, giving a small wave and shy smile. 

The crowd exploded with a loud cheer after he waved at you, and the teams were off.

☆

A little over four hours later, the Sentinels had yet another win under their belt. Johnny and Mark were critiquing the plays made by both teams, while you and Yeri were busy trying to understand what the hell was happening in real time. It was different for the both of you when you were watching the plays in real time without any type of commentary or slow-mo videos to show the play. 

The wind picked up during the middle of the game and you were thankful Jaehyun gave you his jacket. Although, you weren't thankful for the wind sending a foul ball straight into the barrier net to keep the audience members safe. You could feel your heart racing, turning to laugh with Yeri, who was also frightened.

As soon as the game came to an end, everyone filed out of their seats, making there way to food stands or tailgates in the parking lot, where fans celebrated the Sentinels victory. Johnny, Mark, Yeri and yourself opted to waiting by the locker room for Jaehyun to walk out.

You held Jaehyun's coat over your arm, playing with your fingers as you waited. Mark and Johnny were having their own conversation while Yeri stood beside you, doing some complex edit to the photo she took with you and the boys to post on her Instagram story. 

"Dude, I'm hungry!" Mark complained, leaning his head back against the wall, rubbing his stomach.

Johnny snorted, "Yeah, I bet you want that stadium hot dog."

Mark gave his usual chortle, hitting Johnny's arm in a playful way, "Shut the hell up, dude." He spoke through his laughe. 

Yeri leaned against the wall beside you, sighing, "Yeah, I'm hungry, too. I haven't had stadium nachos in years."

"Yeri, the last time you've had stadium nachos was at school at the football game last week." You teased, locking your phone as you looked at her. 

"Well, it feels like years." She mumbled, looking at Mark, "Wanna come with me?"

You could see Mark's eyes light up, nodding his head rapidly, "Yeah, yeah, let's go."

Johnny kicked off the wall, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, "I might as well come, too. Don't want you two to get lost." He looked at you quickly, "Wanna come, Y/N?"

"No, I'm okay. I ate before I came." You smiled softly, "You guys go eat. I'll wait for Jaehyun so he doesn't think we ditched him." You waved them off.

Yeri held up her phone, "Well, text me if you want anything."

You nodded your head, waving to them as they walked away before you leaned back against the wall as you pulled out your phone to occupy the short amount of time. 

You were invested in the random video of how fossils were formed, blackhead videos, mukbang ASMR, and other interesting videos. And you would've kept watching if you didn't see the last of the team file out of the locker room, save for the dark haired male you came with. You watched the team leave, and you pulled a frown. 

You began to question what was taking him so long, but decided to leave it as it was. It wasn't your concern what was taking him so long. You were a guest.

You looked at the locker room door for a moment longer, and hovered your thumb over the pause button on the video about who knows what — you blocked that information out. And just as you were about to press play, your phone chimed and vibrated.

jaehyun:

no one's in here, if you wanna come in.

so you don't have to wait in the cold.

delivered 1 sec ago

You blushed; for one, it was the men's locker room. And second, you didn't know where your thoughts were going. All you could remember was this morning, where Jaehyun pulled open his front door with just a towel on. You kept the text open for a moment, before you approached the locker room door. You looked both ways three times. One look was too quick. The second, in case any one was approaching. Third, for extra measure. 

Your fingers held onto the handle for a second as you contemplated a little more, the metal handle cold from the breeze drafting through the open stadium. 

You pulled open the door, peeking your head in slowly, "Jaehyun?" You called softly, your voice echoing off the walls, making it seem louder than you intended.

"Over here." Jaehyun responded, and you quickly stepped inside, the squeaking of the hydrolic hinge echoing just as loud as the door latching behind you. Your shoes hit the ground as you stepped in further to find Jaehyun within the maze of lockers. 

And you did find him. He stood by a locker, a black Sentinels branded towel hanging low around his waist. It's clearly not like you haven't seen him shirtless, let alone half-naked. You saw both visuals this morning. But it was the fact his hair dripped drops of water down his back, over his shoulders, even down his face. The fact his back and arms were so muscular. And the very obvious fact that beside the towel, he wore nothing at all.

Jaehyun turned around briefly, chuckling, "Hey." He whispered softly.

"Hi."

He smiled to himself at your small voice, using his hand to keep the towel around his hips. He seemed... shy? More shy than you've grown accustomed to. You were thinking that it was definitely because of the circumstances of where his clothes were. He cleared his throat, "Hey, I just... uh," He started, grabbing your hand in his own and stepping a little closer to you, "I wanted to say thank you for coming to see the game." He squeezed your hand in his own, smiling shyly, "It's the first time I've actually had so many people come see me. Uh, in terms of VIP."

"I'm glad I could come, too." You smiled back, "I had fun. Plus, it was nice to see an actual baseball game in person, and not on a television." You tilted your head to the side as you thought, "Although, I didn't expect that many grown men to get excited when you waved."

Jaehyun laughed, "Yeah, they can get pretty excited." He smiled, "But, I think that kiss you gave me this morning gave me the good luck I thought it would."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He chuckled, glancing away for a quick second, "Does that mean I get that victory kiss you were talking about?" He asked softly, the hand that held his towel tightly was released, cupping your cheek with it. "You said you'd consider it."

You laughed, kissing his lips softly. 

Two days. Two days of electric tension bubbling between you guys was finally boiling over the top as you both kissed. You could tell Jaehyun was kind enough to act as the gentleman he always was for these two days, but from the way his hands wandered as you both moved your lips in sync was enough to tell you that he was desperate to touch you, to claim you as his own.

At first, he had one hand against your cheek, then both hands resting on your hips, then before you knew it, Jaehyun's hands trailed down your legs, and guided them around his waist as he lifted you up effortlessly and seated you on his lap as he sat on the bench in the middle of the floor. Jaehyun's lips never stopped moving against your own, his thumb rubbing your thigh through your pants as you straddled his hips.

Jaehyun parted from the kiss momentarily, glancing at your face as your lips grew swollen from the kiss. His hands moved from your thighs and found their way under your shirt, his thumb brushing against the skin of your stomach. "You look amazing." He whispered, placing open-mouthed kisses against your neck. 

You rested your hand against his neck as he kissed yours, your other brushing your fingers against his arm; over the veins you admired the night before, over the carpal boss of his wrist before he intertwined his fingers with your own again. Jaehyun's hips pressed against your own as his chest did the same with your own. 

"Jaehyun." You whispered softly, squeezing his hand in his own.

Despite the gentle whisper, Jaehyun had no intentions proceeding without anything more, pressing his lips to your shoulder through the fabric of your shirt, "Hm?" He hummed out, pulling away slightly to look at you, "What's wrong?"

"I just didn't think we'd share a moment like this in the locker room." You chuckled shyly, looking at him, "Not that I'm complaining, it's kinda hot, but..."

Jaehyun cupped your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, "I understand." He whispered, "How about this? I'll get dressed and then we can head back to my place — or yours, I'm okay with either."

You nodded softly, climbing off his lap and sitting on the bench while he stood up to get dressed. He pulled on his briefs with the towel around his waist, loosening it to throw over his head and dry his hair. 

You looked around the locker room to avoid getting caught staring, admiring the red and black walls, the Sentinels logo in the center of the wall. You over analyzed every detail; how crooked the logo was, how some of the red bled into the black, even how there were smudges of paint left on the lockers. Maybe you were being a bit too critical; after all, you weren't an artist and sometimes mistakes happen. You began to beat yourself up because why would you criticize art if you couldn't even draw a stick figure, let alone a giant logo like the Sentinels had. Maybe you'd take an art class.

When you looked back at Jaehyun, he was dressed in his usual attire, the attire you were most accustomed to. The grey, baggy cargo pants, the black muscle tee, the backwards Sentinels baseball cap. He looks just how you were first introduced to him, and it was comforting. He grabbed his bags and wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he led you out of the locker room.

"Hey! There they are." Johnny called, a half eaten corn dog held in his hand, "We were looking everywhere for you two."

Yeri held the paper boat of nachos in her hand as she gave you a knowing look, biting into a cheese and jalapeño covered chip.

Mark breathed heavily, "I ran around the entire stadium looking."

Jaehyun chuckled, shaking his head, "You guys didn't have to do that." He smiled, "Well, we're gonna head out."

"Why don't we get something to drink as celebration?" Johnny suggested, taking a bite of the corn dog.

"Sorry. Have plans." Jaehyun shrugged, guiding you past the three of them. 

Yeri took another bite of her nachos, "Wear protection!" She called, more so to you than Jaehyun, or at least you think so.

"Dude, ew!" Mark's laugh echoed off the walls as you and Jaehyun walked off.

Jaehyun was on a mission trying to get you both to the car so you both could get out of there and relieve some sexual tension. Not only did he have to deal with some of the teammates of him stopping him, he also had to deal with team managers, coaches, and some fans of him that were begging for autographs and photos; which he gladly accepted, because he wouldn't be anything without the people who supported him. That continued the whole entire way as you both walked to the back of the stadium where he parked earlier in the morning. 

Jaehyun slowly peeked out of the door before he closed it as soon as he opened it, "Here." He whispered, swinging the backpack to his side and pulled out some sunglasses, "There's gonna be a lot of cameras flashing, so wear these and only look straight ahead." 

You nodded, pulling on the sunglasses. Jaehyun grabbed your hand in his own, and slowly opened the door again, guiding you out with him. And that's when you understood what Jaehyun meant; the flashes of the cameras were speeding in at one per second. Jaehyun was used to it, but you definitely weren't. He gave a nod, a wave, even a handshake to paparazzi, keeping you close to his side. There was a security guard that helped you both make way to the car. You wondered how so many people were able to obey one security guard, let alone with that many people.

The car was inches away from you both, Jaehyun's fingers grazing the handle to the passenger side door, helping you inside. 

"Jaehyun, is that your girlfriend?" A paparazzi shouted, continuing to take pictures, most likely blurry from the nudging and shoving from other paparazzi. Since when did athletes have the same amount of paparazzi as superstars. 

Jaehyun shut the door, giving you a smile as he shoved the bags into the backseat, "Yeah, she is." He responded to the paparazzi, shutting the door and let the security guard guide him to the driver's side. The security even went as far to check under, on top and inside the car's backseat. 

Once the security gave the go ahead, Jaehyun pulled out of the car lot, his hand immediately finding your own. 

"Sorry about that." He said, making his way back towards his place.

"Oh, it's okay." You took off the sunglasses he gave you, holding them by the nose bridge as you folded the arms, "I feel sorry you have to deal with that. No wonder you drive a Honda." You smiled.

Jaehyun laughed, "I meant saying you were my girlfriend." He glanced at you, pausing the music on his phone, "It's easier to say that than explaining we're in a talking stage, you know?"

"It's fine." You glanced at his side profile, "I know what you mean." You mumbled, "I don't mind. Being considered your girlfriend, I mean." You smiled to yourself.

Jaehyun smirked, squeezing your hand, "You sure about that?"

"Yeah."

Jaehyun nodded, playing the music to fill the silence. The music playing varied between The Weeknd, Lloyd, and even some underground artists you had no clue existed. But the one variation that they all had in common was that they were heavy intented with sexual innuendos and sexual tension. You have no idea if Jaehyun made a playlist with these types of songs or if they just happened to be playing on shuffle back to back. But either way, they were definitely setting the mood. 

Jaehyun pulled into the roundabout, grabbing his bags before passing his spare car keys to the valet and helped you out of the vehicle. 

"Why don't you park it yourself?" You questioned, reaching for the strap of Jaehyun's backpack and throwing it over your shoulders. You were genuinely curious, glancing up at him.

Jaehyun shrugged, "I don't know. They only allow employees out there. I guess it's the luxury part of the apartments." He guided you inside and to the elevator, clicking the floor button that you memorized from this morning.

You chuckled, "Do you like living here?"

"It's nice. But, I'm not much of a big house guy. I've never been interested in it." He leaned against the railing of the elevator, the duffle bag between his legs as you stood in front of him.

"So, why get a giant apartment?"

Jaehyun shrugged, "The commissioner of the team paid the lease if I agreed to join the Sents." He glanced down at his hands, "But, I'd much rather having a nice little apartment."

The elevator rung and stalled to a stop as you both reached the hallway, your hands never leaving one another's as he guided you to his door.

You felt the butterflies grow in your stomach, your heart beating in your throat and your hands clam up. Was now a bad time to say you can't remember the last time you've had sex? You really don't understand why you're feeling so nervous all of a sudden, you were both having a great conversation in the car and now, you felt like you were about to throw up.

Jaehyun pushed open the door, setting the duffel bag on the ground under the upholstered bench at the entryway, kicking off his shoes. You followed, setting the backpack down beside the bench and neatly placed your shoes next to his. You were trying to buy time to settle the butterflies in your chest by rearranging the shoes a little bit. And when you stood up, you gasped when you felt Jaehyun's hand on your own, once again. 

"If you're too nervous, we don't have to continue." He spoke in that soft voice, the same one you grew accustomed to since the night before. "I'm nervous myself."

You took a deep breath, sighing softly, "I'm nervous but... I want this."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes."

Jaehyun stepped closer, your back pressed against the front door, he cupped your chin, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, "Can I kiss you? Is that okay?"

You nodded your head, "You don't have to ask."

Jaehyun kissed you — feverishly. Like a man starved, he pressed you against the door and kissed you like any man would with the woman they love. You felt his hands wandering again, squeezing your hips before wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. 

His tongue found its way into your mouth, rubbing against yours. You could feel him through his pants, and he was hard. You so desperately wanted to touch him, but you didn't want to cross a boundary he might not like, so you settled for kissing him back as feverishly as he was.

A gentle groan escaped his lips as you pressed against him, a whispered "fuck" breathed into your mouth. He tapped his fingers against your thigh, silently telling you to jump up, which you obliged. He steadied you with the arm around your waist, and guided your legs around his hips as he held you effortlessly.

"You okay with moving this to the bedroom, baby?" He spoke with a gravelly voice, his lips swollen from the kiss. You felt the butterflies grow in your stomach again, your heart racing, and your panties growing wetter as he looked at you with those gentle, yet dominant eyes. You couldn't help yourself but nod.

Jaehyun smiled, carrying you over to the bedroom, crawling onto the bed and resting you on his lap as he continued to kiss at your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, neck and shoulder. "Do you wanna continue?"

You nodded, your hand running through his hair, "I do."

Jaehyun smiled, pressing soft kisses across your face, "Okay, baby." He placed one soft kiss against your lips, adjusting his position so you were laying back on the bed, and he was between your legs. He reached over to the bedside table, pulling out a condom and looking at you softly, "Open it for me?" He chuckled.

You grabbed the packet and tore it open with your teeth, passing it to him, "Expecting a lot of play?" You teased, motioning to the box of condoms.

Jaehyun smiled, shaking his head, "Only if you want to." He nudged your leg playfully, "And I'm hoping after this, you're the only one I fuck."

You bit your bottom lip, smiling sweetly, "I haven't had any complaints yet." 

He set the condom off to the side, skillfully unbuttoning your bottoms and pulled them off your legs, throwing them off to the side.

"Oh, my—" You mumbled.

"I'll buy you a new one." He whispered, his hands pulling off his shirt, "Anything you need, I'll get it for you." His shirt was the second piece of fabric added to the growing pile of clothing, his hands pulling off your own shirt, "You're so pretty." He whispered breathlessly, "You don't understand how hard it was to keep my hands off you." 

"You shouldn't have." You smile softly, brushing your fingers through his hair as he kissed at your collarbone.

"I'll keep that in mind." Jaehyun's breath fanned against your chest, and he looked up at you, "You're so beautiful. I was hypnotized when I first saw you in person, I swear."

You laughed, "Did Mark push you to come pour my drink?"

"No, I took that initiative myself." He smiled, his fingers tangling in the waistband of your panties, "I was sick of waiting." He chuckled.

And you were sick of waiting. It's two days of complete sexual tension and it was almost painful waiting for anything more to happen. You can't remember the last time you had this much sexual tension with someone, let alone the last time someone desired you this bad.

"Jaehyun..." You whispered out, as he pressed kisses to your hip bone, "Please, I can't wait anymore."

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your hip once more, "You can't wait anymore?" He teased, "I spent months fantasizing about this, and you can't wait anymore?" He hummed.

"You know what I mean." You whined, feeling your cheeks blush as you leaned your head back against the pillows.

"Okay, okay, baby. I guess I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer." His dimples imprinted his cheeks, sitting up from between your legs and grabbed the condom from beside him, "You've been patient and I appreciate that." He dipped his hand into the waistband of his pants, his cock resting in his hand as he rolled the condom on, slowly pumping himself in his hand, "Fuck, look what you do to me, baby."

You wrapped your legs around his hips, using the heel of your foot to pull him closer to your heat.

Jaehyun's hand pressed against the pillow you laid on top of, guiding the tip of his cock into you, slowly pressing into you, "Oh, fuck..."

"Oh my god..." You whispered out, tangling your fingers through his hair as he pressed his chest against yours, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck.

"I'm gonna start moving, baby."

"Mmhmm..."

Jaehyun slowly began thrusting into you, the tip of his cock pressing against your sweet spot, your toes curling and fingers tightening on the hair on the back of his head. Jaehyun's long eyelashes brushed against your jawline as he continued to press soft kisses on your neck, "So soft, so pretty." He whispers against you skin, his tongue wetting the plain, gently sucking.

Gasping, you rolled his hips up against his, "Jae," Your words come out shaky, the heat moving from your cunt up to your ears.

"Sensitive there?" He whispered, nibbling on the skin, his hand moving from your cheek to press between you two to rub his index and middle finger along your clit. 

"Fuck!" 

Jaehyun chuckled, "You're so wet, princess." He smiled, his hips continuing to press into your own, "God, I imagined how pretty you'd look underneath me for so long." His cock twitched against your walls, a moan escaping his lips, "Feels so good... Could keep fucking you forever."

The words you wanted to speak disappeared just as quickly as they appeared, listening to your thoughts echo Jaehyun as he continued to press into you. Silent babbles were occupied with whines and moans, clenching down on his dick as he moved. "Jae, Jae,"

"I gotcha, baby. I'm right here." He whispered softly, rubbing your legs, "Jae's right here."

You groaned as Jaehyun grabbed your hips, guiding you along his length, "So good..." You whined.

"I know, baby. Like you were made for me." Whispering in your ear, Jaehyun's fingers found their way to your clit once more, flicking it gently, "A pretty, soaking wet pussy just for my dick."

You jolt slightly as Jaehyun flicked you clit, a heat wave washing over your body as it blushed, simultaneously, goosebumps covered your skin from Jaehyun's words.

Jaehyun smiled softly, whispering sweet nothing against your ear, "So tight. It feels so good."

"Fuck, Jaehyun...." You whispered out, your throat straining as you attempted to speak.

Jaehyun's fingers worked against your clit, continuing the same pace of his hips, "Does it feel good, baby?" 

The words he whispered were enough to make your pussy jump, nodding your head. Glancing down at the bulge of your stomach, you couldn't help the moan escape your throat, "Oh, fuck." 

Jaehyun groaned, his hand lingering on your hip, "Look at you..." He whispered, more to himself, "Wanna fuck you everyday."

Jaehyun's voice was hoarse, his eyes staring into your own. He leaned closer, kissing your lips in contrast to the brutal pounding of his hips. He hummed against your lips, sliding his tongue between your lips and rubbed his own against yours. 

Jaehyun pulled away for a moment, looking at you, "Can I taste you, princess?"

It was a question you honestly couldn't refuse. You nodded your head, whining softly at his exit but allowed him to continue to kiss down your body, his breath fanning against your wet cunt.

Licking his lips, Jaehyun hummed softly at the white cream around your hole, "Shit..." He whispered out, pressing soft kisses against your sensitive clit.

"Jae!" You yelped as his lips pressed against you, blushing softly as another wave of heat covered your core.

Jaehyun smiled, the dimples on his cheeks making an appearance before he delved into you, his tongue licking your hole, savoring the flavor. 

You gasped softly and let your hands immediately slip through his hair, feeling the soft strands tickle the inside of your wrist. 

He was eating you out like a man starved, his fingers pressing into you as his lips and tongue danced with one another against your pussy. Jaehyun's eyes closed as he continued to thrust his fingers into you and taste you against his tongue, the cold of the ring around his finger soothing the burn of your body.

You could only handle so much more as he curled his fingers into you, gasping and whining as he teased the spongey spot inside you. Your pussy fluttered around his fingers, moaning softly, "Ri- Right there, Jae."

Jaehyun's fingers continued to rub against the spot, his tongue lapping up all your juices that dribbled onto his fingers like it was juice rolling down his hand. 

Your pussy sobbed as he continued tasting you and teasing you, feeling the warm coil break in your stomach, the creamy cum coating every line of his hand, covering the silver ring that pressed against your hole and leaving a white ring around the base of his fingers.

"Fuck," he whispered against you clit, moaning softly as he slowly moved his fingers inside you, "That was hot."

You whined shyly as he continued to press into your heat, his fingers never moving from the spot inside you, "Keep moving your fingers like that, and I'll cum again."

Jaehyun smiled, "I'm always up for a challenge." He teased, kissing your thigh, "Only if you are."

You blushed softly; how could resist such an invitation? You were so out of practice that you were out of breath only after cumming once, you had to at least repay the favor.

"Can I suck your cock?" You asked gently, sitting up on your elbows.

Jaehyun chuckled softly, moving his fingers out of your cunt, "Do you want to?"

You used this chance to adjust your position and lay across his lap, your mouth salivating at the sight of his cock, covered in the clear condom. You looked up at him with shy eyes, nodding your head.

"You gotta say it, baby." He whispered, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"I wanna." You mumbled, entangling your fingers with his own.

Jaehyun smiled, leaning forward to peck your forehead, "Good girl." He whispered in your ear, "Go ahead." He guided you with his words, letting you roll the condom off his cock and kiss at the red cherry colored tip. A groan parted his lips as he settled his hand against your head. He didn't push, he just used it as silent praise, letting you take your own pace with what you were doing.

Yet, his hand on the back of your head almost gave you the motivation to do more; You wrapped your lips around his cock, slowly bobbing along the length, using your tongue to tease the slit of his cock. Your hand moved downward, rubbing against his sack, listening to his whines as you sucked him off.

Jaehyun glanced down at you, using his hands to move your hair away from your face and wrap it gently around his hand, "You're gorgeous." He whispered, as he admired your lips turning a swollen red, your flushed cheeks, your pretty fingers rubbing against him and your eyes lidded as you savored him on your tongue. 

Looking up at him through your lashes, you moaned at the praise, tasting the pre-cum leaking against your tongue. Pulling away with a thin string of saliva keeping you both connected as you took the moment to pump him in your hand, the pre-cum oozing from his slit.

"Fuck," Jaehyun leaned in closer, pressing his lips against yours to taste himself against your tongue, "You're so pretty." He moaned as your hand continued to move against his member.

You smiled softly, "You're not too bad looking yourself." You smiled, "Taste good too."

Jaehyun smiled softly, soft whimpers leaving his lips as you wrapped yours back around the cock head. Your finger traced the vein on the underside of his cock, drool dripping from your lips down his girth.

"Shit, f-fuck," He whined, "So close, baby. Keep going."

Listening to Jaehyun's sounds was enough to encourage you to continue until his muscles tensed, heavy pants escaping his throat. The taste of Jaehyun's cum against your tongue was like a hunger that you weren't aware you had sated. You had the taste linger on your tongue as you pulled away from his cock, swallowing the thick release.

"God, baby..." Heavy breaths, messy (but still insanely perfect) hair and flushed cheeks only suited him more, "That was perfect."

You smiled, laying back on the bed as you soak up the compliments.

Jaehyun lay beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he placed soft kisses against your neck, jawline, cheek.

You both continued to cuddle, letting Jaehyun fawn over you as you laid with one another until either of you fell asleep. You didn't mind being doted on. It was kinda nice.

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