#there were actually quite a few parts where they were caught off guard by the audience response looool

[oldphanny]

Ok, the one thing I will say is that in the conspiracy theories bit we picked wedding, and when they said it was false, everyone booed, and they were caught off guard by that, lol.

[that-fic-girl]

HAZBIN HOTEL X READER HC #1

Head canon: what it would be like to date them.

characters: Alastor, angel dust, husk, vox

disclaimer: everything i write about these characters might not be accurate to the actual story, please take everything in the fic with a grain of salt, none of this is canon!!

Alastor

he hasnt been in an actual relationship in a while so being close and vulnerable with someone is quite hard for him, especially as someone who associates emotions with weakness.

First off, its safe to say he adores the ground you walk on. He's in love with everything about you, your clothes, the smell of your hair, your sickly sweet voice. his loves it all.

If there was ever a problem you needed fixing, a person you needed taken care of or even a errand you needed to run he would tend to it himself. he would not let you lift a finger.

PDA is a iffy thing for him, he wouldnt do grand big gestures but maybe a hand on the hip or a few words of affirmation.

everyone in the pride ring quickly learned of yours and radio demon's relationship. And no one dared to mess with you, ofcourse there was people who wanted to test their luck but they would have to pay the price later.

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, he will sweet talk the shit out of you. At night when it's just you two in bed, he will have his hands stroking through your hair whilst you rant to him about your day and he'll reply with sweet nothings

"oh darling, i've missed you all evening"

"you looked ravishing today my dear.."

"mm your hair smells amazing, my love"

Angel Dust

Angel is one of, if not, the horniest mother fuckers out there but somehow, he manages to somewhat make a healthy relationship with someone.

you two are seen as "the bad bitch" couple. you're always out together, always getting into dumb shit together. You'll get yelled at by vaggie at early hours in the morning because the two of you where playing a childish game of tag in the hotel halls.

his love language is definitely physical touch, he'll have his arms slung around your waist almost all the time. Kisses are a MUST every 5 minutes, like this boy will NOT part from you. especially in the mornings when you have to leave for work;

"mmnnnnoooooooo...stayyy for five minutes pleasseeeee"

"but sweets..you're soooo warm"

"sweetheart please, you feel so comfy"

yeah good luck with that.

nights with him are VERY eventful, if it wasn't obvious. You two would usually be at it late hours into the night but sometimes, when you two where too exhausted to fuck like rabbits, he would be sprawled across your lap whilst you stroked his fur.

Husk

Despite his harsh tone and uncompromising demeanor, you understood that Husk wasn't trying to be malicious towards you. It was simply his way of communicating, and you knew that his behavior wasn't personal. Even though he could be abrasive at times, you loved him for his rough edges and authentic personality

You and Husk's time together was mostly spent at the bar. You didn't like to drink much, but you loved seeing him work and make cocktails like a pro. You didn't mind that it wasn't considered a typical date, because you liked spending time with him in whatever way he felt most comfortable.

Husk is not used to receiving compliments, as he didn't often receive them in his past life. When you complimented him, it caught him off guard and he was surprised. But he eventually learned to appreciate it, and it even made him feel a little sentimental.

Despite the difficulty, you were able to help Husk realize that you genuinely cared about him. He had been used to being surrounded by dishonesty and hypocrisy, but you were always sincere and real. He held you in high regard, as you were the only source of light in his life, and he didn't want to lose you.

vox

You were known as a strong and independent person who didn't need assistance from others. You knew how to stand up for yourself, despite being harsh and tough at times. Despite your exterior, no one was aware of the soft spot in your heart that Vox's affection and touch alone could melt away your severity.

He appreciated seeing your affectionate side, as it felt special and intimate, like a shared secret between the two of you. He knew you valued your privacy, and he respected it by never sharing photos or other details on social media. He didn't want to betray your trust.

You were often feared and respected when you were with Vox. People found it hard to believe that someone as intimidating as yourself could have a tender, caring side that was kept hidden from most. Vox was glad that he was the only one who got to see that side of you. He didn't want to share something so special and personal with anyone else.

Quite often, he would call you on the phone, knowing that sweet words could be just as effective as a kiss. He enjoyed hearing how your voice softened from its usual seriousness to a more affectionate tone. He was aware that when he said loving phrases to you, you would blush and smile shyly, and sometimes he even regretted not being able to witness it in person.

"i've missed you today babe.."

"mhm look at my pretty girl/boy!"

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Prologue

Summary: A college student (reader) forms a deep bond with a young professor, Spencer Reid, over weekly study sessions in the library. After months of building a friendship, they share a night together, only for the student to be left alone, Spencer gone without a word.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, backstory, mild smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: non-descriptive smut (18+), talks of sex, alcohol, professor/student relationship (but it's Spencer and he's 18 like his students), being used for sex, loss of virginity, (un)requited feelings, no happy ending for this part

Word count: 8.6k

a/n: new story just dropped lol -- wrote so fucking fast and not edited at all sorryyyy

main masterlist part one part two part three part four

Being a wonder kid, Spencer Reid’s youth was one of isolation. Growing up too young, too smart, too awkward—too everything to really fit in—made life difficult. He navigated a world where his intelligence placed him far beyond his peers, yet his age kept him at arm’s length from those who might understand him better. It wasn’t until he began teaching an engineering course while working on his PhD at eighteen that he finally felt a flicker of that belonging.

Standing in front of an auditorium full of undergraduates, Spencer finally experienced something akin to acceptance. The students, many only a few years older than him, loved the fresh, youthful energy he brought to their 8 a.m. class. For the first time, they weren’t learning from a middle-aged professor droning on about equations but from someone who felt like one of them. Spencer’s lectures were passionate, and he brought concepts to life in ways that made the subject not only digestible but genuinely fun.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome either; that soft hair, those gentle brown eyes framed by glasses, and the earnest way he smiled—all of it made more than a few students swoon over him at one point or another. Spencer, of course, remained oblivious to the dreamy stares and flirtatious comments.

Despite his newfound sense of belonging in the classroom, Spencer didn’t really hang out with anyone. He remained somewhat of an enigma—attending his own study groups, tutoring off and on, and sometimes grabbing lunch with faculty who treated him more like an adorable novelty than a colleague. He was used to it by then, that feeling of floating in between worlds. 

But one day, after a particularly engaging lecture on applied mechanics, a student named Jasper approached him. Jasper was bold, with a confident walk and a grin that suggested they weren’t afraid to push boundaries. “Hey, Professor Reid,” they said casually, leaning against the edge of the lecture podium.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Spencer replied, caught slightly off guard as he scrambled to gather his things. He was never quite sure how to handle the one-on-one interactions with students that felt too friendly, too casual. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”

Jasper laughed and shook their head. “No, actually, I was just thinking... Me and my roommates are throwing a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You know, kick back, meet some people... No physics or equations, promise.”

Spencer blinked, processing the invitation like a computer struggling to boot up. A party? With students? It felt... like an odd concept, but one that piqued his interest in a way nothing had before. He’d never really had a social invitation like this—especially not one involving people close to his own age. The idea was exhilarating, and for a moment, Spencer could almost feel what it might be like to be just another young adult, rather than the kid-genius-teacher everyone knew him as.

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes lit up, his grin boyish and genuine. “That sounds great, actually! Should I, um... should I bring anything? Snacks? Drinks? I can... figure something out.”

Jasper shook their head, laughter spilling out at how adorably sincere he was being. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” they said, waving off his concern. “Just bring yourself, cutie.” With a teasing wink and a quick flick of their wrist, they slipped a small note with their address into Spencer’s hands. And then, with that same confident stride, Jasper turned and walked away, leaving Spencer to stand there, flushed and stunned, staring down at the address in his palm like it was some secret code to a new world he’d been waiting forever to explore.

—

Spencer stood outside the house, his nerves and excitement mingling as he took in the scene. The address Jasper had given him led him to a lively place: music thumping loudly enough to rattle the windows, laughter spilling out through the open front door, and the warm glow of lights casting playful shadows on the lawn. People were milling around everywhere—huddled in small circles, raising drinks to one another, dancing, and talking loudly over the music. It was the kind of scene Spencer had seen in movies but never really experienced in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped inside. He immediately felt out of place in his neat button-down shirt and slacks, compared to the casual party attire of those around him. But he was here, and he was determined to enjoy it. As he made his way through the crowded entryway, Spencer's eyes were wide, absorbing every detail—the smell of popcorn and alcohol mixing in the air, the flashing lights, the loud music, and the laughter. He weaved through groups of students, dodging stray elbows and trying to make eye contact with anyone who might seem familiar. 

However, after a few failed attempts at small talk and realizing that almost everyone he knew was either preoccupied or didn’t recognize him outside the classroom setting, Spencer’s excitement dimmed a bit. He found himself gravitating towards a quieter corner of the living room, eventually sinking into the soft, worn leather of a couch, trying to look relaxed but not too out of place. He sat there, half-heartedly holding a cup of soda someone had pressed into his hand earlier, unsure of what to do next. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass by, and he’d offer a polite wave or smile, but nothing stuck. 

The longer he sat, the more he felt like an observer looking through glass, disconnected from the easy laughter and carefree movements around him. He sighed inwardly, wondering if coming to this party was such a great idea after all. But as he settled back into his seat, he heard an enthusiastic voice shout above the noise.

“Professor Reid!” 

He barely had time to look up before Jasper dropped down beside him on the couch, their presence as warm and electrifying as a flash of lightning. They were so close that the entire side of their body pressed against Spencer's, hip to shoulder, the sudden contact sending a warm jolt through his skin. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the music but still tinged with that inherent awkwardness that never quite left him in social situations. He noticed the slight flush in Jasper’s cheeks, their eyes bright and relaxed from the party vibe.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” Jasper teased, leaning in so that their mouth was close to Spencer's ear, their voice buzzing through him. “You seemed kinda nervous when I invited you.”

“N-no, not at all!” Spencer said quickly, though his laugh betrayed his nerves. “I was... just... you know, trying to, uh, soak it all in.”

“Well,” Jasper drawled, dragging out the word like they were savoring it, “now that you're here, we should make sure you have a good time. Can’t have my favorite professor looking all lonely in the corner.” They flashed him that teasing smile, the one that Spencer had come to recognize as Jasper's signature charm, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the crowded room and the strangers dancing around him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed, the warmth from Jasper’s touch making the party seem a little less intimidating. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, Spencer had no idea how things would unfold. What started as casual chatter on that couch quickly transformed into something more charged, more intimate. Jasper had a way of making Spencer feel seen—really seen—and as they talked, leaning into each other, the lines between conversation and flirtation blurred until they no longer existed at all. Eventually, the touches grew longer, more intentional, and Spencer felt his breath catch when Jasper’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

It was Spencer’s first kiss, and it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. He was clumsy at first, feeling every ounce of his inexperience and fearing that he was doing everything wrong. But Jasper was patient, guiding him with slow, teasing movements until Spencer’s hesitations melted into something fervent and desperate. They broke apart, breathless and flushed, and before he knew it, Jasper was pulling him up, leading him through the crowded party, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom.

There, it happened—the fumbling of clothes, the whispered instructions and reassurances. Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the nerves and adrenaline mixing with a primal kind of desire he’d never felt before. Jasper seemed to know exactly what they were doing, leading and coaxing Spencer through the motions, and for once, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t caught in the spiral of his own mind. He let go, lost in the sensations of touch, taste, and pleasure as he experienced intimacy for the first time.

When it was over, Spencer lay on his back, panting, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief wash over him. He was almost scared to speak, to ask what this all meant. But before he could say anything, Jasper sat up and smiled, giving Spencer a quick, almost dismissive pat on the arm.

“That was fun, Professor,” Jasper said with a playful grin that lacked the intimacy they'd shared moments before. “But I’m gonna get some sleep now. Thanks for, you know, joining in on the fun tonight.”

Spencer sat up, a little dazed and trying to process the sudden shift. He nodded, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and muttered a soft, “Yeah, sure. Thanks... for inviting me.” There was no animosity in Jasper’s tone, but it was clear the night had come to its end. Spencer gathered his clothes, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He walked through the party once more, though he felt almost invisible now, slipping out the front door into the cool night air.

The next class was excruciatingly awkward for Spencer. He’d gone over the lecture material several times, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when Jasper walked in, took a seat right in the middle of the room, and gave him an easy smile like nothing had happened. Spencer struggled to maintain eye contact and found himself stumbling over his words more than usual. He felt exposed, raw, like everyone in that room somehow knew what had happened between them.

But Jasper was unbothered, unfazed—completely casual. It was as if that night was just another blip on their radar, a moment to be shared and then forgotten. And perhaps that was the point. As the days went on, Spencer realized that to Jasper, and probably to many others, it was just another night—no strings, no lingering feelings, just a moment of pleasure and then moving on. 

The realization was strange for Spencer. He couldn't help but question if that was just what sex was—casual, meaningless, but a great way to blow off steam. It felt anticlimactic to think that something so intimate was treated so carelessly, but maybe that was the reality. For all his intellect, this was an area Spencer had little experience in, and he found himself trying to adjust to this new perspective. Maybe this was just the way people did things, and maybe that night with Jasper was simply the start of understanding what it meant to live a life that wasn’t dictated by equations or theories, but by messy, imperfect human experiences.

—

The library was packed with students hunched over textbooks, fingers flying across keyboards, and whispered conversations about study guides. You were already on edge, the stress of your final exam making every little noise seem louder, every empty table harder to find. You hugged your books to your chest, eyes darting around for any free spot, your mind already buried in the formulas and concepts you needed to cram before tomorrow.

Then, without warning, you collided with a solid body as you turned a corner. Your books tumbled out of your grip, scattering across the polished floor. “Shit!” you blurted out, the curse escaping before you could hold it back. “Sorry!” You dropped down immediately to pick up your books, your face burning with embarrassment.

Just as you did, so did the person you’d run into, and the next thing you knew, there was a dull thud as your foreheads collided with a painful smack. You jerked back, clutching your head, eyes watering from the sudden sharp sting.

“Ow,” the guy groaned, rubbing his forehead. He winced, but there was a hint of a laugh behind the pain, a softness in his voice that made your embarrassment double. 

“Fuck, my bad,” you stammered, feeling utterly mortified. “I’m so clumsy.”

The guy chuckled lightly, standing back up as he brushed off his pants. “Me too, it’s alright,” he said. As you looked up, you finally saw who you’d bumped into.

It was him. Professor Reid—the young genius who everyone in your classes seemed to talk about, with rumors that swirled around him like leaves in a storm. The eighteen-year-old PhD who made engineering sound sexy, apparently both in his lectures and in the beds of the more... adventurous students. You’d heard more than one friend gush about how he'd helped them understand a complicated theory in more ways than one, their whispers tinged with admiration and amusement.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, all tousled curls, warm hazel eyes, and that slightly awkward but undeniably charming smile. The closeness made you realize how tall he was, his lean frame towering over you. You felt a rush of heat creep down your neck, spreading across your skin like wildfire. You’d seen him from afar, of course—catching glimpses of him in lecture halls or around campus—but never up close like this, and he was... so much prettier than you’d expected. 

“Are... are you okay?” Professor Reid asked, still rubbing his head but looking at you with a concern that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, grabbing the books you'd dropped before handing them to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping your books tightly, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was now tingling where he’d touched it. “I just... wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted, his smile widening a little as he looked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I guess we're both guilty.”

“Yeah, guess so,” you said, forcing a laugh. God, why was it so hard to speak right now? You mentally cursed yourself for being so flustered. You quickly glanced around, realizing that most of the tables were still full, and suddenly it dawned on you that there were no available places to sit... except for the table behind him.

“Um... do you—do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, gesturing to the table he’d just been standing beside.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the table and then at you, a strange look crossing his face like he was trying to figure something out. Then, with that same awkward but genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It's all yours.” 

You thanked him quietly, moving to the chair and settling down, but as you did, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him—those curls falling just right, his long fingers thumbing through his notes as he lingered nearby. And as you opened your books, pretending to focus on studying, you couldn't stop sneaking glances at the very attractive, young professor. 

The hour that followed was filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning, pens scratching against paper, and the occasional cough or whisper from other students scattered around the library. But you couldn’t concentrate, not really. Your eyes kept drifting up from your notes to the table across from you, where Professor Reid sat hunched over his books, his focus so intense that you wondered what on earth he could be doing. Every now and then, your gazes would accidentally meet, and you’d look away quickly, your cheeks heating up as if you'd been caught doing something wrong.

You were in the middle of re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when you heard his voice break the silence between you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, the soft tone of his voice instantly grabbing your attention, “what course are you studying for?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. He was looking at you curiously, genuinely interested, and his expression was kind, almost encouraging. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear and cleared your throat, trying not to let your voice shake as you replied, “Oh, uh, architecture. I’m studying for an exam... final one of the semester.”

“Architecture!” Spencer’s face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like you’d just told him the most fascinating thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so genuinely enthusiastic. “That’s great! I’ve always thought architecture was such a beautiful blend of art and science—it’s like engineering for the soul, you know? There’s so much math involved, but it’s all to create something tangible, something that can change the way people experience space. And the way architecture has evolved over time? It’s like a living timeline of human innovation!”

He continued to ramble, moving from modern skyscrapers to the ancient marvels of Rome, describing the symmetry of cathedrals and the beauty of brutalism. The passion in his voice made every word seem like a story, and you sat there, leaning your chin on your hand, utterly captivated by the way he spoke. It was clear he loved to share knowledge, to connect different ideas, to see how everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

You found yourself smiling wider and wider, nodding along as he spoke, absorbing everything he said not because you needed to know it for your exam, but because he made it all sound so alive. 

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, laughing softly as he realized he’d been talking nonstop for quite a while. He leaned back in his chair, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I tend to... ramble a bit. Especially when it’s something interesting. I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Actually... I liked listening to you.” 

He seemed surprised by that, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes and offering a shy smile. “You, um... you make it all sound really exciting. It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the kind that lingered like a shared secret. You wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, to ask him about the things he was passionate about. But before you could find the right words, Spencer glanced down at his watch and began gathering his books.

“I, uh, should get going,” he said, a slight note of regret in his voice. “Lots of things to prepare for—classes and, um... you know, life things.” He gave an awkward laugh, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pausing for a moment as if he were about to say something else, but then just smiled instead. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and casual, despite the fact that your heart was pounding harder than it should have been. He nodded, gave you one last shy smile, and turned to leave, weaving through the tables and shelves of books until he disappeared from view.

You watched him go, the way he held himself with that slight awkwardness, his long stride taking him quickly out of the library. And as soon as he was gone, you slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath. 

For a fleeting moment, you felt hopeful that you might run into him again, that maybe you’d have another one of those conversations that felt easy and exciting all at once. But then you remembered the stories—the whispers about how Professor Reid often slept with students, how it was no big deal to him, just casual fun. And suddenly, you felt foolish for reading anything more into his friendliness. What if he’d only started talking to you because he was trying to woo you into bed? 

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive—very attractive—but if all he saw in you was another potential fling, then maybe it was better not to get your hopes up. After all, Spencer Reid wasn’t like other guys. He was brilliant, handsome, and, from what you’d heard, had more than his share of admirers. You shook your head, trying to brush away the pang of disappointment and return your focus to your notes.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake the image of his warm smile or the sound of his voice. And a part of you—just a small part—hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Spencer Reid than the rumors said.

—

You were rushing, nerves jangling through your body like alarm bells. You were running late—really late—and all you could think about was getting to your exam on time. In your panic, you didn’t see the corner coming, your eyes glued to your watch as you cursed yourself for oversleeping. You rounded the bend with way too much speed, and before you could react, you collided hard into someone else. The force knocked you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground, your books and papers flying in a wild scatter across the floor.

“Oh my!” came a startled voice. “I am so, so sorry, I was just looking for—oh, hi.”

You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows, but the moment you looked up, your heart sank and soared all at once. There, standing over you, was none other than Professor Reid. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern, and his mouth opened as if he wasn't sure whether to apologize or help you up first.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to get back up, your face flushing hot. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—”

“No, no, please, don’t apologize,” Spencer said quickly, his voice soft but urgent as he bent down to your level. “That was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention either.” He reached out to help you up, his hands gentle as he grasped your arm and steadied you, making sure you didn’t trip over yourself as you stood. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes darting over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “I didn’t, um... hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you said, though you could feel your whole body tingling from where he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering even as he let go. You brushed off your pants, trying to regain any semblance of composure despite the fact that you were now not only late but completely flustered.

Spencer began gathering your scattered books and papers, handing them to you with the same focused attention he gave to everything else. He was quick, efficient, but still careful, making sure to line up the pages neatly before passing them back into your hands. “Here you go,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You, um... dropped a few things.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the books from him and clutching them to your chest. And then you remembered. “Oh my God, my exam!” You looked at your watch again, the numbers glaring back at you as if taunting your lateness. “I... I have to go, I’m so sorry, Professor Reid, but I really need to—”

“Wait, wait,” Spencer interrupted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. “Is it in the main lecture hall? The big one across campus?”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “I have, like, five minutes to get there or I'm screwed.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” he said, a determined smile breaking across his face. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” 

“Y-you don’t have to do that, I mean—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Spencer insisted, already starting to lead the way. “I’m heading that direction anyway.” You both knew that wasn’t true but then, with a quick glance back at you, he added, “Besides, it’s the least I can do after, you know... knocking you over.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, despite the chaos of the moment. “Okay, thanks,” you said, falling into step beside him. It was a strange, surreal thing—running across campus with Professor Reid at your side, his long legs matching your frantic pace. And even though you were still panicking about being late, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, like the whole situation was slightly less catastrophic just because he was there.

“Don’t worry,” he said between breaths, casting a reassuring glance your way as you both hurried down the path. “You’ll make it. I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

You made it to your exam with barely a minute to spare, heart still racing from sprinting across campus and the whirlwind encounter with Professor Reid. As you settled into your seat, your mind was a jumbled mess of nerves, exhaustion, and the lingering thrill of having Spencer Reid rush beside you, determined to get you there on time. The reality of having bumped into him—literally—and seeing his concerned, handsome face up close again was a distraction you struggled to push away. But as the exam papers were passed out and you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, you felt a small swell of determination rising within you.

It wasn’t just about passing the exam anymore. No, it was about doing well—really well—because a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d run into Professor Reid again. And if you did, and if he asked you how your exam had gone, you wanted to be able to look him in those warm, interested eyes and say, “I crushed it.”

And so you put everything into it. Every formula, every theory, every bit of knowledge you’d crammed into your brain over the past few weeks. The hours passed in a blur of scribbled answers and focused thought, and by the time you handed in your paper, you felt a surge of pride and relief. You knew you’d done your best—maybe even better than your best.

—

The new term had settled into a predictable rhythm for you: classes in the morning, work in the afternoons, and then hours spent in the library for some uninterrupted study time. By the third week, you found a comforting routine in the silence and solitude of your favorite corner, tucked away but not too far from the bustle of the main floor. It was your place to dive into note-taking, to tackle assignments, and to escape from the chaos of student life. And though your schedule was tiring, there was something satisfying about the repetition—class, work, library, sleep, repeat.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were in the thick of your study session, textbooks spread across the table, fingers tapping absently against your highlighter as you scanned the pages. You were deep into a chapter on sustainable building design when a shadow fell over your table, and you heard a voice.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the confirmation was still enough to make your heart skip a beat. Professor Reid stood there with that same friendly, slightly awkward smile, his bag slung over his shoulder and a stack of books in his arms.

“Professor Reid,” you greeted with a smile of your own, trying not to let on how quickly your pulse was racing. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that gentle way as he pulled out the chair across from you. He sat down, settling his things on the table with a soft thud, and for a moment, you were both just... there, in the kind of companionable silence that libraries are made for. Spencer pulled out his own work, a notebook and a pile of papers, and began arranging them neatly before him, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of a binder.

“Preparing for midterms?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at you with a tilt of his head, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving a little shrug as you gestured to your scattered materials. “Trying to get ahead, make sure I don’t fall behind. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the open book in front of you. “I’m writing one, actually. One of the joys of being on the other side of the classroom.”

“Wow,” you said, the laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. “That... actually sounds like way more pressure than taking one.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted, a lighthearted grin playing on his lips. “I always end up overthinking it, trying to make the questions fair but challenging, relevant but not too obscure. It’s like creating a puzzle that someone’s actually going to solve.”

You nodded along, smiling at how earnest he was. “That sounds... kind of like how I feel about taking exams, actually. Trying to solve the puzzle without knowing if you even have all the right pieces.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he considered that. “Exactly,” he said, like he’d never thought of it that way before. “It’s a lot like that. But the fun part is watching the different ways people solve it, the different approaches and interpretations. It’s... fascinating, really.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch him, his hands moving expressively as he talked, the way he was so animated about his work. You’d heard him lecture from afar, but this—this was different. There was something more intimate about being across from him like this, sharing space, sharing thoughts. 

You smiled, leaning forward a bit. “Sounds like you really enjoy it.”

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s nice to be able to help people understand things, to make learning something enjoyable instead of a chore.”

You nodded, and for a while, the two of you sat there, working side by side, an unspoken connection forming over the shared silence and occasional exchanges. And though you were both absorbed in your own work, you knew now that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves at the same table, sharing the same quiet space amidst the noise of college life.

Every Thursday for the rest of the term, your routine became intertwined with Spencer’s. You’d meet in your usual spot in the library, setting up your notes and books, and he'd arrive not long after, dropping into the chair across from you like he belonged there. And for hours, you’d sit together—sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes falling into deep conversations about classes, life, and everything in between. It was almost comical when, after weeks of these meetings, he finally looked up at you, eyes wide with realization, and laughed softly.

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think I ever asked you your name.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, blurting it out in a rush, and he repeated it back to you like he was savoring the sound of it. And just like that, something clicked into place. He’d ask about your exams, your grades, always genuinely interested in how you were doing. You, in turn, asked about his lectures and the classes he was teaching, and he would share his thoughts on the challenges of balancing students’ needs, all with that passion and depth you had come to expect from him. 

Your friendship blossomed, but it was always contained to those Thursday evenings at the library. It was a boundary neither of you seemed to cross—studying together, talking, connecting, but never making plans outside of the walls of academia. And that was fine, for a time. But as the end of your freshman year loomed closer and summer break approached, the thought of leaving and not seeing Spencer every week weighed on you more than you’d expected.

One Thursday, when you could barely focus on your notes because of it, you found yourself fidgeting, chewing on your pen cap as you tried to summon the courage to speak. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice quiet over the hum of the library around you.

“Mhm?” he responded, not looking up from the papers he was reading through but giving a small nod to show he was listening.

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up, but pushed through. “Would you, um, want to come over after exams end? You know, to... say goodbye to the year?”

Spencer paused, his pen freezing mid-note, and he looked up, surprise flashing across his features. He hadn’t expected that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your offer. The idea of spending time together outside the library, beyond your weekly tradition, was both tempting and concerning for him. He’d grown fond of your friendship, of the way you made him laugh and didn’t expect anything from him except a shared space and genuine conversation. But, deep down, a part of him still feared being used like so many others had. 

Yet, there was something earnest in your eyes, something that made him think maybe, just maybe, you really did just want to hang out. To be friends, and nothing more. He let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you hoped the heat wasn’t too obvious as you scratched the back of your neck, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Uh, I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “Maybe... a movie? Just something casual.”

“Casual,” he repeated, almost as if testing the word out, and then his smile widened, a bit of relief and something like excitement brightening his eyes. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.” 

And just like that, you found yourself looking forward to what might be the start of something new—something beyond Thursday study sessions, something more than a quiet routine.

The Friday after final exams, you paced your dorm room, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. You'd barely slept since inviting Spencer over—second-guessing every detail, every word you’d said. But now, as you checked your phone again, you reminded yourself that it was just a movie, just two friends hanging out to say goodbye to the year. Nothing more. You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to be this excited.

And right on time—exactly at 7 p.m.—you heard a knock at your door. Spencer's punctuality didn’t surprise you, but it did send a rush of excitement through your veins. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before walking over to the door and opening it.

There he stood, dressed in casual jeans and a plain button-up shirt, looking somehow both effortlessly put together and adorably uncertain all at once. His curls were a bit messy, his glasses slightly askew, and he clutched a bag of something in his hands, which he immediately offered up to you with a slightly bashful smile.

“Um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring something, so I, uh, brought snacks?” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. You could see a mix of candy, chips, and a few other treats inside.

You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you—that’s perfect.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he stepped into your room, glancing around with curious eyes as he took in the posters on the wall, the books scattered on your desk, the remnants of your rushed packing for summer break.

“Your roommate left already?” he asked, looking over at the other, empty half of the room.

“Yeah, they went home the day after finals,” you said, trying not to sound too relieved about having the room to yourself. “So it’s just us.”

“Just us,” Spencer repeated, the words hanging in the air with a nervous tinge in his voice. He smiled softly and set the bag of snacks on your bed, taking off his shoes and settling in as if he were almost comfortable—almost.

“So,” you began, moving to sit beside him, your nerves starting to subside as you relaxed into the familiar presence of your study partner turned friend. “I thought we could just pick something light to watch, you know? Nothing too serious.”

“Light sounds good,” Spencer nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, there was that playful glimmer in his eyes—the same one you’d seen during your library sessions, when a joke or comment would catch him off guard. 

You leaned forward to pick up the remote, scrolling through the options until you landed on a few comedies and light-hearted movies. You tossed out a few suggestions, and eventually, the two of you settled on a movie neither of you had seen before—some easygoing, feel-good flick that you knew would make you both laugh and not require too much thinking. You hit play, and as the opening credits rolled, you sank back into the pillows, side by side with Spencer.

There was a comforting quiet between you, a sense of familiarity even in the newness of the situation. And as the movie played and the two of you slowly started sharing the snacks he’d brought, laughing at the jokes on-screen, you felt that same feeling you always did on Thursday nights—the calm certainty that, somehow, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The movie had been on for about thirty minutes, and both of you were already lost in the silly over-the-top humor. It wasn’t long before the playful energy from the screen found its way into your own conversation, and you couldn’t resist teasing Spencer a little every time he laughed at something you found particularly cheesy.

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually laughing at this. I thought you had... you know, a refined sense of humor.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I can appreciate a good joke, okay? Even the dumb ones. It’s called versatility,” he said, giving you a sidelong glance before popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning closer as if you were about to share a secret. “You’re just pretending to like it so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

He chuckled, turning to face you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as his knee bumped lightly against yours. “Trust me,” he said, voice low with that familiar teasing lilt, “I’m not pretending. I genuinely think this movie is... absurdly entertaining.”

“Absurdly entertaining, huh?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you leaned in just a little more, close enough to see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. “I think that’s code for ‘terrible but in a fun way.’”

“Okay, maybe it is a little terrible,” he admitted, laughing openly now. “But in the best way.”

The lightness in his voice, the ease with which you bantered—it felt effortless. And then, suddenly, there was a shift. His laughter trailed off as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a beat longer than usual. Your faces were so close, your knees brushing, your shoulders almost touching, and you noticed the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to decide something.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to flirt, to let the playful banter turn into something more, but a voice in his head reminded him of past experiences—where interest in him was just a prelude to sex, a quick thrill before moving on. He didn’t want that with you. You were different—kind, genuine, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had by crossing a line.

And ever since meeting you, Spencer hadn’t slept with anyone. Your study sessions, conversations, and simple presence filled a void in him; being around you was all the release he needed. Now, sitting beside you, he just wanted to keep this intact, afraid that taking a step further might shatter what he cherished so much.

Little did Spencer know, your own thoughts were tangled with doubt. You'd been excited for this night ever since he said yes, but now, sitting so close to him, you wondered if he'd only come over for the same reason he might have gone to others in the past: sex.

The whispers around campus about Professor Reid’s quick, casual flings were hard to ignore. Reconciling that with the sweet, earnest man beside you felt impossible, but still, the thought gnawed at you. What if, to him, you were just another fleeting encounter before summer ended?

You wanted to believe that your Thursday study sessions meant more than a prelude to something casual, but the worry hung there, making your hand pause before reaching for the snacks. What if you were misreading everything? And if this was just casual to him, could you handle it, or would you rather preserve what you had now?

You glanced at Spencer, who was focused on the movie but stealing nervous glances your way. It was clear he was treading carefully, and you could feel the irony—both of you caught on the edge, too afraid to find out what the other truly wanted.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling silently on the screen, neither of you moved to turn it off or get up. There was an unspoken tension in the room, a pull that made it hard for either of you to suggest that this night should end. 

“Do you want to watch another movie?” you blurted out just as Spencer said, “I really like hanging out with you.” 

You both paused, your words colliding mid-air, and then burst into laughter. It was awkward, sure, but it was the kind of awkward that felt endearing, pulling you closer instead of apart. The kind that made you grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, where you both sat smiling like fools.

“Another movie sounds great,” he said, the grin on his face not fading, and you nodded in agreement. You both took a break—stretching, refreshing snacks, and using the restroom. When you returned to your dorm room, you found Spencer sitting more toward the middle of your bed, and when you slid in next to him, your bodies ended up pressed tightly together, the heat of his side warming yours through your clothes. You were hyper-aware of every place where you touched, but neither of you pulled away.

“Your turn to pick,” you said softly, handing him the laptop.

Spencer flipped through the options with focused eyes, and finally, he settled on a film—a foreign romance, its title scrolling across the screen in delicate script. You raised an eyebrow, curious but also a little lost. “Spencer,” you said, trying not to sound too nervous, “I, uh, don’t speak French.”

His eyes met yours, and this time, the way he looked at you was different—more intense, like he was seeing something in you that hadn’t been spoken aloud. It sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and almost intimate. “I can whisper translate for you... if you don’t mind.”

The idea of Spencer leaning in close, his voice softly whispering translations in your ear as romantic lines played out on the screen, made your heart race in a way you couldn't control. You could practically feel his breath on your neck already, the warmth of his words settling into your skin. 

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching on your lips as you tried to keep your composure. 

You pressed play, and as the opening scene unfolded, you found yourself sinking deeper into the bed, Spencer’s body comfortably close to yours, and your heart pounding in anticipation of every word he would breathe into the small space between you.

The movie’s soft music and dreamy cinematography made it easy to get lost in its world, but it was Spencer’s voice—low, rich, and soothing—that anchored you. He leaned in, and his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered the translation, his tone low and almost reverent.

“Élise tells her...” he began, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, “‘When I'm near you... everything disappears. The whole world, the sounds, time... there's only you and me.’”

The words hung in the air, and your senses were drawn to the way his lips moved against you as he concentrated on the words. You couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the way he brought the romance to life, the intensity in his whisper making your skin tingle with every syllable. 

“Juliet replies...” he continued, not yet noticing how your attention was fully on him now. “‘You are the reason I breathe, Élise. Every beat of my heart... it whispers your name. If I could, I would spend every second of my life looking at you.’”

And that’s exactly what you did now—look at him. His eyes were still on the screen, but there was something in his expression that felt vulnerable, open, as if he wasn’t just translating lines, but baring something deeper, something unspoken between you. You couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, every inch of your body hyper-aware of the closeness between you.

“‘Then look at me... and never let me go,’” he whispered, and when he finally turned to meet your gaze, the intensity in his eyes nearly took your breath away. His voice was softer, more intimate, as if he was no longer speaking for the movie characters but for the two of you alone. “‘Because without you, I'm lost. You are my everything.’”

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you stared at each other, your faces so close now that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his breath came out just a bit more quickly. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the hesitation in them, the question he didn’t dare ask.

“‘I promise you... never, ever will I let you go,’” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips only a breath away. “‘Because I love you... more than anything in the world.’”

Neither of you moved, frozen in that charged space between a word and a touch, every part of you yearning to close the gap as the rest of the world fell away.

The words hung in the air, your shared gaze brimming with something unspoken and heavy. And then, as if on cue, both of you turned your eyes back to the screen, where Élise and Juliet leaned in, their faces close, the tension snapping as they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. The soft sounds of the movie filled the silence between you.

“Do you want me to translate that?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm on your cheek. The words were teasing but tentative, laced with a hope that sent a shiver down your spine.

But before he could say anything more, before you could second-guess the pounding of your heart, you closed the space between you. Your lips met his in a sudden, breathless kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The taste of him, soft and warm, was everything you had imagined it would be. You felt Spencer’s sharp inhale, the surprise in his body, but then he melted into you, his mouth moving against yours like it was something he'd been waiting for all along. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gentle but sure, pulling you closer, and the world disappeared—just like Élise had whispered—leaving only you and him in the electrifying moment of finally letting go.

Deep down, both of you felt that nagging worry—was this just a fleeting moment, a one-time thing? But as your lips moved together, those thoughts slipped away, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, the desperation in every kiss and touch. Spencer laid you back gently, his hands trembling slightly as he held you, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted to stop. But there was only desire and your verbal confirmation, and so he continued, showing you the skills he’d learned over the past year.

And when the clothes were shed and the vulnerability became all-consuming, you allowed him to take your virginity, holding back that delicate truth out of embarrassment over your own inexperience. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to add more pressure to a moment already so fragile and important to you both. Spencer, in turn, treated you with a reverence that spoke to his genuine care, his every touch slow and deliberate, like he was savoring each second. 

It was the most passionate, mind-blowing experience Spencer had ever had. Every gasp, every whispered name, every shared look made it clear why—it was you, and it felt like something more than just sex, something deeper, like he was baring his soul alongside his body. When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together, hearts still racing, bodies wrapped around each other like you could hold the moment in place forever. And in that perfect silence, Spencer’s arms became a haven, and you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, happy, and loved.

But morning came like a cold shock. You reached out across the bed, seeking his warmth, and found only emptiness. The sheets were cool, and Spencer was gone—no note, no sign of him ever having been there. The joy, the love, the comfort you’d fallen asleep to vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind an aching emptiness and the haunting fear that maybe all your doubts were true.

—

Summer came and went, and though the days were warm and filled with distractions, nothing eased the emptiness Spencer left behind. The pain of waking up to find him gone never faded, and as you returned to campus for your sophomore year, the ache of his absence settled in deeper, an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

You looked for him—hoping to see that familiar face in the library, in a lecture hall, anywhere on campus—but every search ended in disappointment. It was like he’d vanished, leaving not a trace behind. Over the next three years, you went through the motions, diving into your studies and trying to let go of what happened, but the memory of him never left, haunting every quiet moment and making you wonder what you'd done wrong.

The truth was clear to you now: Spencer had used you, filling some void in himself for one night, and then disappearing, leaving a much larger void in your own heart.

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[famwhy]

Bereavement

noun

/bɪˈriːv.mənt/ The state one is in when losing someone important to them

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

42! Miles X F!Reader, 1610! Miles X F!Reader

Synopsis: Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Note: this one's for my cousin. The idea actually came to me while I was rewatching the first spiderverse lmao. Who knew Kingpin was such a source of ideas?

part two.

You saw it—on the control panel—42. Miles had been transported to Earth 42.

You belonged to 1610; which meant that Miles also belonged to 1610.

He was in the wrong universe.

Your best friend was stranded in the wrong universe.

Now, if you were a rational person, you would've called for back-up—maybe even gotten Hobie's help like Gwen had. But you weren't a rational person—and could anyone blame you?—your best friend was probably in danger, of course you would act without thinking.

The watch wasn't hard to swipe, everyone was too caught up in what had just happened with Miles to care for guarding their little 'goober' dimension devices. Tracking him down wasn't terribly difficult either, not after you knew which world he went to.

All you really needed to think about was where exactly you had to open the portal—but luckily for you, Margo was willing to help.

"You owe me for this, by the way." Her head tilted your way, lids narrowed in a sassy look you dismissed with a wave of your hand.

"Yeah, okay, what're his coordinates?"

With a roll of her eyes—that you very much thought was quite rude—she gave you just what you needed; his exact coordinates.

The assortment of colours and geometric shapes appeared before you with a few taps of your finger against the cold device, flitting across the room in a bright blur of pure chaos that hurt your eyes to look at—

—but you would endure it; if only for Miles' sake.

"This is stupid, by the way—" you turned, facing the girl who insisted on making a snide comment every five seconds, "—you're not even a spiderperson."

"Says the girl who's speaking to me through a VR headset and isn't actually here right now," you growled.

"Careful, I can shut this whole thing down right now and tell Miguel what you're planning," she returned your apprehension with crossed arms, brows furrowing even further.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sighed, "it's just— I'm worried about him. Please don't tell Miguel. Miles has saved me so many times, it's time I save him for once."

You assumed you must've looked rather pitiful for her features to have softened up, arms falling limp by her side as she, too, gave a sigh; though hers sounded like it stemmed from a different type of exasperation to yours.

"Just... go. Before I change my mind—preferably."

You gave her the brightest smile you could muster, hoping to god she could see all the appreciation in it—and there was a lot—before turning back around to take a step into the portal.

"Miles! I'm here to—"

As soon as you walked through, you were met with a dark room—though, that wasn't what caught your attention. Instead, your wide eyes landed on that familiar hanging bag, beat down and bits of its material flaked off.

Chained up to it, was your very own, Miles Morales. And stood directly opposite to him was... also Miles Morales?

Alright, you were aware of this whole 'spiderverse' thing but you didn't think it would be this trippy.

"...save you?"

They were both staring directly at you, however, the expressions situated on their faces were vastly different.

Miles—your Miles—had his eyes blown wide, shaky pupils not leaving your form for a second, even as he started frantically shaking his head from left to right, he still remained in eye-contact with you.

The other Miles also had his eyes blown wide. This time, however, it wasn't in warning—no—his pupils were dilated and his form stood rigid; still as a statue.

"Cariño..." he whispered; so much breath in his voice, it barely sounded like words were coming out.

"Y/N! You have to get out of here!" Your Miles yelled, pulling at his chains as though it would get him any closer to you.

You scoffed. "And leave you? I don't think so."

"Don't worry about me! You have to—"

"Cariño."

You blinked, casting your gaze back over to the other Miles—who now stood much closer to you than before. He was just an arm's length away, in fact, how did you not notice him approach you?

"Mi vida, oh Y/N..." his voice was soft as he spoke—quiet and coated in an emotion you were unfamiliar with—hand moving up to your cheek to gently trace a cold, steel claw over it.

"Hey!" The sound of metal chains clicking grew more frantic from behind him. "Stay away from her! Don't you dare hurt her!"

Either the Miles in front of you was ignoring your friend on purpose, or he genuinely didn't hear him, because he continued to do as he was doing—continued to give you shivers from the icy material against your cheek.

Then, all too suddenly, he flew into your torso, engulfing you in a hug so tight—so inextricably emotional—you stumbled back a little from the sheer intensity of it all.

"You're alive..." he breathed out—and it was then that you finally understood what the tone of his voice was. "You're really, truly alive. Oh mi cariño, I've missed you so much."

"Wha—?"

"Lo siento... lo siento." He buried his face into the crook of your neck and the surface of your skin slowly grew wet, your collar soaking up. "I didn't get there in time, I couldn't save you."

You and your Miles shared a glance.

You saw your reflection in his eyes; the look of shock on his face; the scenes that flashed through his pupils. You saw a fear in him, one unlike anything you had ever seen before.

You saw your near-death experience replay right before him.

"Te quiero—" the other Miles—the one holding you—grounded you once more with his words as he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes and continue, "—you know that, right? I'm so sorry for not saying it before. If you hadn't— if you never— I'm so sorry."

The phrase shocked you, sending an electric pulse down your spine and rendering you utterly immobile.

"I always have. For the longest time. It's always been you. It's always—only—ever been you."

If what he was saying was true... then—?

"Y/N!"

Suddenly, the metal against your hips was replaced by the familiar silky material you were used to; the one worn by your Miles.

"Miles," you breathed out, looking all around you to see the shattered glass that flew in the wind—scattering in all different directions as the warmth of the inside abandoned you.

"I'm gonna need you to hold on, okay?"

You nodded.

Then, you glanced behind him, catching sight of the familiar geometric mask of the Prowler—sharp claws out—coming in hot and fast and furious.

"Miles—!"

"I know, mami, I know. I need you to trust me for a minute, alright? You know I'll never let you get hurt."

You nodded once more, nails digging into his dark suit as you buried your face directly into his chest. You felt yourself flow through the air, swiftly moving as the wind worked against you, pushing back on your hair as though you were its worst enemy.

It was nice. It was fun. It was... bound to go wrong.

One moment, you were safe, all coddled up in Miles' arms as he swung through the sky—the next?—

—you were falling.

"Y/N!"

(Note: I feel like I need to address this because some people seem to be misunderstanding what I'm doing with Margo.

First of all, Margo is not AT ALL being mean in Bereavement. The whole of that fic is written in the Reader's perspective (and I'll prolly end up writing something in both Miles' perspective too) - this makes her an unreliable narrator so you can't trust the way the story is being told to you is 100% accurate to the true events.

At the start, the Reader is frustrated because she knows her best friend is stranded on another universe - this makes her unfairly take out her frustration on Margo when she thinks lines like 'who always seemed to have to say something every five seconds' (paraphrased).

Margo thus responds accordingly (as she should) and although she threatens to tell Miguel, she never actually would because she is legit one of the only real ones in the movie. So no, to those commenters that were accusing me of making her 'aggressive' cuz she was black - that is not what I'm doing at all. I am writing the Reader's perspective after just having lost her best friend.

Margo is the only one helping. She is literally being kind to the Reader. If anything, the Reader is the one being rude to her but again, that's because her best friend is missing which isn't an excuse but definitely an explanation.)

[death---dealer]

Girl when I tell you I absolutely NEED part 3 to Customary or I might die!! Omggg that yearning shit had me covering the smile on my mouth and licking my feet. 🤭 It’s too good! It’s too cute! You might actually be a wizard. I’m bowing down to you, slow-burn queen 🙌

My fingers.... They are burning.... with dESIRE.

Title: Wounded Pride. Fandom: ( Kindgom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of violence, blood, injury and mating. ) Words: 6K ( Someone stop me jk don't. ) Pairing: Implied! Noa x Human!Reader. Summary: You were ignoring each other, that much was clear. How long was it going to last? Noa felt like he was bursting at the seams and you felt like you had lost all sense of reasoning. ** Does Contain Spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. **

READ THE SERIES HERE. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ “Noa!” That was a frantic tone and lured the Chimp to raise his head in question. His ears moved to focus on where it was coming from. Off to his left, maybe 10 or so meters away. Not too far if he needed to run. He made a barking sound in response. Hearing his name was not enough.  His vision caught a few things. Leaves tangling against the ruins of a past structure. Echo in nature, through and through and hideously ugly. Nothing like what Apes built he beamed with decent pride at that. His body swung at the sound of his name vibrating along the walls encapsulating him like a barren playground. His set of feet and hands were pressed into the ground now. He was braced, ready to take off. Respond, Noa’s mind felt like it was melting, waiting for his fellow friends to communicate. He traced his gaze right along the trees that were bursting through the sturdy concrete, determined to grow in such ludacris circumstances. His chest rose and fell rapidly, faster than he had felt in quite some time, at least since his encounter with Proximus Caesar.  “Noa! You need to come quick!” The fur along his spine pricked at that, standing on edge. A sensation not often felt with him. It screamed ‘danger ahead!’ His nerves yelled at him, muscles feeling tense. The voice was very much Soona’s, tangling with Anaya’s as they began yelling over each other. Well, it couldn’t have been that serious if they were both taking time to yell, some tanglement of arguing with each other hitting Noa’s ears as he finally picked his pace up to a gallop. Coming to what could only be described as a skirting stop, Noa’s hands and feet dug into the earth below him to stop him from tumbling over, making quite crazed eye contact with Soona and Anaya as his mind caught up with his body. Both unharmed, he sighed from relief at that. Anaya was breathing heavily - Nervous? Noa questioned silently and looked at Soona again, shoulders fraught. He stared at her, expecting an explanation without having to ask for one. She was quick to oblige but didn't bother with words. Merely stepping aside, her entire self bumped into Anaya’s and they both shuffled to the side on all fours looking between Noa and what was behind them in the long grass that grew without care. Noa came forward, keeping his senses on guard in case there was danger with what Soona and Anaya had found. His friends were fast to follow right behind him. Noa never had it in him to advise that he was just as scared as they were at times like this. He swallowed it down and did what he needed. Soona and Anaya needed him to be brave and that was often his gift to them. Their gift back? Their unwavering friendship and support through the years. Green eyes scaled the grassy area in front of him to observe before he got too close. Some blades were painted red. Noa hesitated briefly. It had to be blood, Noa roughly vocalized to Soona and Anaya to stand back, stay back. They did just that, stopping their movements as Noa bridged the gap of two feet between himself and the patch. 

“Still… Alive?” Soona asked quietly. Noa glanced back at her, watching as she dipped her head precariously. Anaya was standing close to her, holding onto her arm out of fear. Noa looked back at the grass, or rather, what was in it. Between the long entanglements of weeds and vines he could make out the striking notions of blood splatter. Fresh, it still looked wet. Swallowing back something that was resting in his throat, Noa stood. If there was danger, he needed to appear as large as he could. One of the many tactics a Chimpanzee had when faced with the unknown. The extra height he got going from all fours to bi-pedal was all he needed to see clearly what was in that busted patch of grass. ‘Echo!’ He signed at Anaya and Soona. 

‘Has to still be alive!’ Anaya was fast to respond to his best friend, his hands finding it a bit difficult to move so quickly. The next set of words were jumbled but Noa understood. It had made a sound when Soona and Anaya probed it, which prompted them to call Noa in return. 

‘What…’ Soona’s signing was slow compared to Anaya’s. She was always more thoughtful and Noa savored that in this moment, trying so hard to keep himself from going straight into panic. ‘What… do.. We do?’

‘Put out of misery.’ Anaya wasn’t joking. 

Noa held his hand up, fingers twisted into a hard fist. Soona and Anaya both fell deathly quiet. He was not about to mercy kill. What was in front of him would die on its own once the cold of the night came around. There was evident damage to their legs, close to the ankles, blood pooling there and trickling down the smooth nature of the skin into the dirt below. He made a fast sign to his friends telling them. He heard them both gasp under their breath as Noa made a move closer, crouching to get more detail, his hands and feet tangling in on themselves with the spaced movement of Noa’s broad body. Cut around the temple, hit by rock maybe, or fell on face, burns around wrists, most likely from being bound. Noa was making quick notes of what he was seeing. He looked right. Nothing. He looked to the left and noticed blood droplets and traced their trajectory mindfully. It was coming from the direction of the cave that kept the Eagle Clan secluded from other Apes in the area. That was all Noa needed to know. The Echo in front of him must have been hunted, nearly to the brink of death.  ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

‘How?’ Anaya signed at Noa, huffing deeply at his friend who was pacing, very distraught. The sounds from the Ape in front of him told Noa to stop moving and to focus, pay attention to the conversation at hand but it was apparent with the shoulder movements of aggravation that that was not going to happen. Noa was an obsessive creature, and Anaya knew that. Once he was locked and entranced by something, by any force of nature, Noa would tear it open and figure it out to satisfy his need to fix, his need to deduce. That’s what made him so good at tinkering, at resolving. It must have been a secretive thing Noa wanted to talk about this time around, eager to get Anaya alone. Stalking and biding his time almost all day to get his friend pinned for a conversation. Without Soona, without his mother. ‘Echo got offended?’ The signing of those words were accompanied by a funny face, Anaya very obviously curious how Noa had managed that one. Neither had heard of an Echo being offended, though, from the Elders of the Clan, they had always made the assumption that they were quick to anger. Maybe the same thing, Anaya bargained with Noa, but Noa felt this was different than simple anger and told his friend that sternly.

Noa had put everything incredibly broad, unsure of how to approach his closest confidant with what had happened between himself and you. Too many details would give away Noa’s primal intent. He gave the gist of it with words a few minutes ago, Anaya intently listening to Noa’s voice waver. Up and down, the placement of his tone unsure and full of self-loathing. He continued, explaining in part the conversation about the human custom of kissing, only the important details, followed by a very cliff-noted version of the hunting endeavor. Anaya must have sensed the urgency, choosing to sign rather than put more effort into it by speaking. Anyway, he justified it further by thinking that signing was more private. Less likely for someone to overhear, or well…. Oversee. Tilting his head to the side, Anaya felt a sigh roll from him as Noa finally stopped pacing, now choosing to sit rather defensively on his hands and feet. ‘How?’ Anaya repeated. 

‘I do not know.’ Shamefully, Noa dropped his hands after admitting that, his jaw clenching tightly for a moment as he grinded his teeth together. They clattered, his canines distracting his train of thought for a split second as he moved his tongue over them. ‘Echo just…’ Signs were not coming to him. Thoughts were not coming to him. Throwing his hands up in vivid frustration, Noa gave up and let a growl fall from his lips, snarling his lips for a second as it became a bit louder before tapering into a hum of sorts. Anaya blinked, hunching forward on all fours and drifted his way very slowly to sit by Noa. 

‘Why… you bothered?’

‘I do not know.’ He repeated this time. 

Anaya nodded, only looking at his friend from the corner of his eye. ‘Maybe… Apology?’ That was definitely an avenue that Noa had considered, in fact it was the first thing that popped into his mind. Chimps were good at apologies. Never with words, often they reached their hands out, palms up and waited for the party getting the concession to accept. It had a great acceptance rate, but Noa doubted you’d want that. Just throw an apology your way and see how it sticks! What could go wrong? You’d never talk to him again…  He grunted out a denial to Anaya at that prospect and turned his shoulders away. Defensive in nature. 

‘You… need tell Anaya…’ He tilted his head in hesitation, knowing what he was about to suggest would be a dangerous path, even though they were friends. “What Noa actually said.” There was confidence in his verbalization, stressing and driving home to Noa that it was a necessity to spill his guts for Anaya to properly gauge the situation and help. “Asked.. about mating.” Noa was fast to speak, hoping that maybe his voice was too weak for Anaya to understand. He underestimated it though and it came out sounding like a sour grape. “Asked if pleasured.” Noa turned his face towards Anaya, giving him a certain look that told him all he needed to know. He got his needed information and now he needed to process. And… It surely brought to light a lot of things. 

A lot. 

Anaya sat back on his butt, displaying a rather surprised expression. Noa didn't bother looking at him, already able to see the emotions on his friend's face just in his mind. That’s what they got for years of being around each other. Each minute move either face or body was known and read right away. 

“Stupid.” He told Noa honestly which resulted in a chortle from the Eagle Clan’s leader. It was the sound of agreement. “Echo like privacy. Stupid to ask. Not like us! Keep many secrets away from Noa, from all Apes.” There was intense scrutiny in Anaya’s voice. There was a reason why the Elders told stories, wary ones, about the Echo’s. About how they were and how they disregarded things that weren’t important to them. Selfish! Anaya chuffed, wanting to pull Noa in physically and beat him into submitting, giving Anaya all the answers he needed to deduce what Noa was already enthralled in. Instead though, he urged, “Why ask?”

Noa dropped his shoulders at the mild scolding and dipped his chin towards his body. He knew what Anaya was saying was right and there was no logical excuse anymore why he asked what he did or why he felt somehow entitled to an answer from you. ‘Curious.’ He didn't have it in him to speak.

Anaya wasn’t seething perse, instead, he was statically quiet which was even worse to Noa. Anaya was a chatterbox, even if it was about nothing of consequence. This… Was out of the norm and it made Noa incredibly uncomfortable. He began shifting his weight from one side to another, swaying out of mere anticipation of being scolded again. And if Anaya got too into it, Noa could just choose to gallop away. He didn't have to take it! He was the leader. He was… He was the Eagle Clan. 

“Stupid.” Anaya muttered again, picking himself up and moving. He couldn’t be next to Noa as he processed. 

“Told me they only mate out of survival, hardly… the other reasons..” Anaya’s mouth popped open. Noa got further into the conversation than he led his friend to believe. Previously, the assumption was made that you didn't respond and merely began ignoring him out of offense. 

Anaya exploded. “Echo not stupid, Noa is. Should have left it to die in the woods when found. Then, Noa wouldn’t be here telling Anaya stupid things!”

Noa lurched at that. Not at Anaya, but unquestionably at the implications of his words. At least, that was what Noa was going to tell himself later when the guilt set in that he drew his aggression at his best friend. The animalistic movement was taken the wrong way, made evident as Anaya billowed as Noa approached him, drawing into himself to appear smaller, more weak, more favorable. Raising his hand up, Noa was chaste to brush his fingertips against Anaya’s open palm. Apology. Simple and clean. Anaya submitted to his friend and watched as he turned, leaving the Chimp still as dumbfounded as before. Though, with a bit more insight. 

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You could smell dried blood but you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your heavy eyelids. Warmth was collapsing over you, wave after wave. Each one brought another one of your senses with it. There was a mild tingling in your right ear, prickling at your hearing as you tried to adjust it enough to figure out your surroundings. Last thing you remembered was stumbling… Hands pacing over a bricked wall in the dark, trying too hard to find a place where you didn't need to run for your life. Your hand pressing to your forehead, bloodied from a cut on the side near your temple, vision blurring in and out of focus. Your knees buckled from exhaustion, crashing onto grass that definitely appeared softer than it felt… It was hot for a second but then it was awfully cold, your body taking a plunge into an invisible ocean of sheer ice. Then, it all went black. Maybe, if you were lucky, you were dead. Whirling endlessly in limbo somewhere between the Earth and the Heavens, searching for the next place to go. Maybe you were asleep, dreaming up violent situations from your subconscious. After all, it did what it wanted to in your dreams; you had no control over that. Would you be aware if you were dreaming though? That idea spurred you to cross it off the list of possibilities. Hm… Or maybe you were dead, you repeated. Your eyes did not want to open. You were so warm… Another wave hit you all of a sudden and you became aware of the smothering sensation of animal fur against your back. Against your arms. Against your legs. Against your entire body. Voices without bodies were floating around you. They sounded human enough and that put you at some ease. You jumped the gun there. Thinking you had been caught by a bunch of ravenous Apes. Ha. Ha. Ha…

Jolting, you were abruptly conscious. 

Not conscious enough, you decided. Drawing a deep breath into your lungs to accommodate for the lack of air you got while passed out, you found your eyes peering into green ones directly above you. Not just regular green, you tilted your head and tried desperately to ignore the throb coming from your temple. Entrancing, grappling for dominance with flecks of outstanding gold against a canvas of darkened pupils. Oh yeah, you were dead. You were definitely looking into the eyes of God, you said sarcastically in your wounded trance and shut your eyes again. “Awake! Echo is awake!” You heard that clear as day and it did nothing to help the already soundless nature of the drumming in your head. It was followed up but a few soft hoots of acknowledgement which caused the hair on your arms to stick up in defense and your eyes to fly open without reserve. Ape. Ape. Ape. You counted them with wide eyes. Three. Maybe? Maybe more? You had a hard time telling as your eyes were adjusting back to some sort of normalcy after being drenched and flooded with blood. Wherever you were was not very bright save for a fire in the corner that drifted up what appeared to be wooden planks that were tilted inwards. No natural light came in and it beckoned your internal clock to assume that it was night time. You were in a structure of some type; that was easy to figure out regardless of lighting. With Apes. Not just Apes, you squinted and raised yourself on your forearms. Chimpanzees. Three sets of eyes, similarly colored to the ones you woke up peering into. You had no idea nor interest in knowing which one was observing you so closely. If you weren’t dead before, you may as well have been at that moment as you sprinted backwards, almost face first and staggered to your feet. Automatically, you were in a defensive position, trying to ignore the feeling of twisted pain in your ankles. Racing your hands everywhere, you tried to find something to grab. Something to defend yourself with. You needed to! There was nothing in the vicinity. You couldn’t even tell where the door was and your eyes were frantic to find some sort of escape. Shoulders rising and falling quickly, you turned and looked at the Apes again. Your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Your head was pounding and you felt like if you moved your feet anywhere, you were going to tumble. What did they want?

Your mind was flying at a faster speed than you were able to process any cognitive thought. Words were blaring in your ears without anyone yelling. Your group of fellow Humans were all hunted, their chanting still wild in your head. Apes were dangerous. Apes showed no compassion. They liked the kill, they liked the satisfaction. The deeply ingrained instinct to be afraid of them because you didn't understand them, the wild weaned fear of what they could do to you. What they were planning to do! Were they… Oh god, they were going to kill you and then skin you and then eat your insides--- you scrambled again, no regard for how you must have looked as you dropped to your knees, muttering under your breath as you flew around on all fours. You needed to find a way out. There had to be a way out. They were going to attack, they were moving!

Wait.

You paused, hunching on your hands and knees, feeble attempts made to catch your breath but you still found yourself panting like a wild animal. Mouth agape, you looked at the Apes in the room with you before letting your gaze fall down to their hands. Were they… Using sign language?Your back came into crushing contact with the wooden wall behind you, earning a tiny flinch from you as your right shoulder blade radiated. You must have been bruised there, you thought. Despite the grinding pain you were in, you tried to push further back as one of them, only slightly bigger in stature compared to the other two dropped to all fours, now eye level with you, and languidly moved towards you. First a hand, followed by a foot and then repeated until they were right in front of you. Your breath caught in your throat as they leaned in, deathly close to your face that you were able to smell them in your nostrils, mixing now with that previously noted taste of dried blood. Oh, they were going to rip your face off.

“Alive.” They said to you, taking a brash step back when you moved. No shit, you wanted to say but you couldn’t find your voice. Your eyes widened at the movement of them and the sound of their voice. Not aggressive or mean, but it was pensive and quiet. Observant, and you wondered if they were even talking to you or just verbally acknowledging to the other two Apes that you were, well… Alive. Whoever this Ape was… Was courageous enough to face you, to be near you but obviously held some reservations. There was absolutely no way they were just as afraid as you were. 

“Injured.” That was directed towards you, eye contact frantically being made when the smell of fresh blood became more abundantly noticed. Almost afraid to look down, you felt a small gush coming from your right calf. It slipped down the curve of your muscle, mixed with something… A paste of some sort that in itself, in your cloudy disposition, was rather fragrant if you focused on it. Something like a root, pulled and crushed from deep in the Earth. How did that… Get there? You looked at your injury, nothing more than a gash, deeper than it appeared though and it ached if you moved your foot in any awkward positions. “Wh…” Your voice came out ridiculously hoarse, hand reaching up to touch the outside of your throat. The Ape in front of you was watching it all. The inquest on your face, your fingers holding along your throat and focusing on your heart beat. How long have you been out? A day? Two? A week? Swallowing hard, you lubricated your vocal cords just enough to force out a question, “Wh-- What did you… do..t’me?” That was definitely slurred.

“Did nothing!” Another Ape finally spoke, their voice frantic and distraught.Not from nerves…. Right? You looked at them, then at the one adjacent, who was just a touch smaller than the other two, before your gaze fell on the one closest to you, wrought breathing causing your lungs to feel rather tight. Shifting, you tried to relax but found that it only brought discomfort. 

“Injured.” The one in front of you said again, this time with a bit more confidence. Whether it was true or faux, you had no idea but it was difficult to sort anything through your thought process at the moment. You were barely processing the fact that there was quite literally a hole in your calf let alone that an Ape was communicating with you so… Civilly. “Found in… ruins. Dying.” Your lips parted, suddenly becoming aware that you were thirsty. The severity of the words spoken hit you like a feathered ton of bricks. Softly at first, it was initially hazed by the idea that they were capable of saving you instead of killing you. Then, it sank in and it felt like your body was tied to a chair, someone banging on your chest over and over again to just drive the point home that all your preconceptions about these Apes might have been wrong. No! It couldn’t have been wrong! You lived your entire life afraid of them, being told from your childhood to be afraid and to always run away. It was only solidified when each of those Humans you were around were hunted, killed and their bodies dragged around in a triumphant show-boat by a group of Apes on the back of their horses. Squeezing your eyes shut at that visual, often the cause of nightmares for you, you shook your head vehemently. There was no way. 

“We…” They continued on, “saved.” There was a gesture towards the two Apes across the room. “Brought Echo back here… Spear head in leg,” Huh, that explained that, you bargained for some sort of reality. “Took out, stopped bleeding then…” They came to a slow stop and signed something over at the other two. You had no idea what they were saying now. Sign language was not your forte. Maybe, if you could push aside the vibration in your head, you’d be able to read them from body language but that was thrown out the window when you opened your eyes, tears forming at the edges and ultimately blurring your vision. 

“Echo then wake up.”

You snapped, “Wha… What the hell is an Echo?”One of the two behind lurched ever so slightly at the apparent aggression you put into your words, but the one crouched in front of you put a hand up to tell them to stop. 

It gestured at you. 

You rolled your eyes. That must have been their name for Humans. Each clan called them something different, you had figured that out over the years. Instead of having individual names, the human race was deduced down to a word such as ‘Echo’ or ‘Nova’, which you had heard in passing, speckled usually in more secluded clans and only talked about in detail when you were around the fire late at night with other humans. It was lore, it was ghost stories. It was reality now. “I--- Have a name…” You whispered. “(Name).” Hm… With a tilted head to the side, a response came. “Noa.” Finally giving you a bit more clarity. He pointed at the two Apes behind him accordingly, “That Soona,” She looked at you, terrified obviously, but seemingly confident in her friend's ability to talk to you. “Anaya.” Even more terrified, and not as obviously convinced in this Noa Ape to be as outrageously courageous as he was appearing.

“Are…” You quivered in on yourself and looked at him. A string of tears hit your cheeks, hurting at your temple even more than before and profusely lit the flame that caused the beating in your head to intensify rapidly. “Are you going to kill me?” Noa looked at you, draping you in some sort of melancholic state as you realized just how… human his eyes were. How they observed every morsel of your face, taking in the details and probably thinking just how hideous you were compared to Apes. How he’d scrutinize your scent, your well being, your entire self. But, he said nothing, gaze flickering between your eyes before he moved attention to your calf again. You followed suit. It looked worse than it felt, at least you had that. If he were going to kill you, wouldn’t he have already done it? There was a fleeing moment where he felt offended at your accusation, feeling the same coming from Soona and Anaya - primarily the latter. But, he had to remind himself, you were Echo. You did not know any other ways.

“Not all Apes are that way. We do not kill… Echo’s here.” You stiffened watching as he drew himself onto his hands and feet again from his default crouching stance. That was a complete and full sentence. You tried to not bark at him with confusion, not impressed by any means… Well… No! Not impressed. You knew they could talk. It was well---You knew… they could… Your eyes blurred and you felt your head fall to the side before you urged yourself into a more aware state. It lasted only moments before you lulled into an awkward dance with unconsciousness and invested fear. Coldness rocketed right through your leg at the application of more of the root smelling paste to your wound. It didn't sting perse, instead, it felt numbing. Were you so out of it that you didn't see Noa grabbing what appeared to be a clay jar of sorts? Fingers pushing into it and then smearing its contents on your body? You so desperately wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, putting on you but you were shot with another wave of black. You passed out. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

Almost sickly aware of the pair of green eyes on you at all times, intricately staring at your movements down to the minute shift of your shoulders as you breathed, you did everything you could to ignore them. Your hands were busy; helping Soona untangle some twine that had gotten itself into a mess of very intricate knots. She had praised you for your help, explaining that ‘Echo hand… smaller than Ape..’ It was a simple and gentle compliment from her, you being grateful to be of some use to someone else in the Clan and not just Noa. With your hands working, your mind fell into a leisurely state as you tried so desperately to convince yourself that Noa wasn’t foolish enough to pull you away from a social situation with Soona. It would seem suspicious and ultimately, Soona would tell Anaya who would then in turn absolutely panic and tell Noa to back off, leave you be and that the only purpose you served here was to please Noa’s curiosity about the Teachings of Caesar. Thinking those things did nothing to help you feel calm. In fact, it was very much the opposite. Your mind did not stop at that though, enticing you to look up. You swept the entire village with your gaze. He had to be there somewhere, he rarely chose to drift off by himself without either of his friends, or even you on occasions but that was only when you served a purpose to him, you convinced yourself that at the moment the agreement was made that you would help Noa understand about human culture. You were still actively trying to convince yourself of that after the last two conversations that abhorrently played in your head in excruciating detail. The absolute devastation on his face when he realized that he had asked you the wrong thing and your petty response was the top of the list for your mental replays. It was your pettiness and inability to say anything positive in response to him that got you the most worked up despite your answer to him being that of pure truth. Humans didn't mate, in Noa’s words, for pleasure. They mated for survival. Setting your twine down now that it was a straight line, you looked over your shoulder once more before glancing down to pick up another knotted piece to work on. Well… What were you supposed to tell him? Looking at it now in a less offended state, you should have just told him that you didn't want to answer. There were a few times in the past that Noa attempted to push a question on you, soon coming to embrace acceptance that you weren’t willing to give him any response and he’d drop it. The two of you never fought about it, never went days upon days without talking or seeing each about them. Were you even fighting? Tilting your head, you shuffled on the ground and spread your legs out instead of sitting cross-legged like you had been for at least the last half hour. Then you began bargaining. He had asked you before if you had mated. If you had someone before you found your way to the Eagle Clan. You never answered him, even then. It was left alone for a long time, Noa not wanting to pry into obviously human privacy. So he was consciously aware of the status of the question he begged you to answer only a few days ago.  You fixated on the way he had signed that word. Pleasure. It was a slow signing, his two hands in front of his chest with a perpendicular circular motion. It was a flurry of intensity. The question. Your chaste answer. Noa falling silent next to you, no doubt self-reflecting at the idiocy of the question. And then… Oh… You had the absolute torture of being silent for the rest of the hunting trip. Noa ignored you, you could sense the coldness coming off of him in waves due to his inner thoughts taking over. You wanted nothing more than to ask him when he inquired about pleasure. How he even knew that it was a pleasurable experience for a human. Was it for Apes? Chimpanzees? You had no idea, choosing to linger in your ignorance and figure that it was not an element to their mating standards.

Huffing, you sat your twine back down and told Soona in a soft tone of voice as to not alarm her, “I need to go pee.” She let you go with silence, figuring your rather fast pace was due to really needing to relieve yourself.

A quick excuse to get you on your legs, pacing towards the right and through the entire embankment of the village to the very edge. Kicking a rock under your foot as you approached the small creek, the very sight of the first incident with Noa, you felt like doing nothing more than grabbing your hair and screaming to the high heavens. What was wrong with you!? Now you were the foolish one, asking questions that shouldn’t need to be asked, that didn't need an answer because what fruit would come from knowing if Apes mated at all for pleasure?

Coming around the small creek embankment, your fast feet came to an almost stumbling stop. Your mind didn't process as quickly as you halted harder than anticipated and almost felt yourself go face first into the shallow water in front of you from the sheer momentum you had. A set of broad shoulders, lined delicately with thinning fur in preparation for the summer, were facing you. Sun peeked across the west as it began its gentle descent into night, flushing the sky now with a light hue of pink and orange. Ah yes… That oh so familiar body in front of you, hand dipped in water in quite solace was none other than the Chimp you were ignored by for days. Well, not just ignored by. You did your fair share of skipping around the stone to not run into him.

Tightly wrapping your fingers into fists at your side, you contemplated going back. It appeared he hadn’t heard you, hadn’t sensed you coming or at the very least, you weren’t worth turning around or acknowledging. Your heart sank at that thought. You were just another tool he used to get his way into fixing a problem that wasn’t his to fix. He… Looked so small… You brought your bottom lip in and chewed it out of deliberation, eyes scaping up his back, broad by nature, but from his posture now, it was brought in on itself and he looked reminiscent of a little kid who had just gotten into big trouble. Maybe, you muttered inside of your own head and trailed your way towards him. You were still contemplating if you wanted to talk to him, but the very least you could do was to appear next to him and give the chance.

‘Know you are there.’ There went your element of surprise as Noa brought his hand back in and rested it against his chest in a coiled position. He wasn’t just crouching, he was holding himself.

“I---” You stumbled backwards, feet shifting to move your weight but your mind was telling you not to run. To confront. You didn't want to! You wanted to leave it alone, you didn't want to… To… Have to see his face. “I’m sorry, I didn't know you’d be up here, I just needed to---”

“Think.”

Swallowing softly, you planted yourself behind him, only a few feet and looked at the water that was so enviously caressing his hand. Looking down at your own palm, you felt it tingle with want… You wanted to be that water and freely float yourself against him in some bid to calm, ease… Love… “Yeah…” That was spit from your mouth so softly, almost afraid that Noa wouldn’t be able to hear. He didn't turn to face you so you figured that he did in fact hear and was either waiting for silence to fall over the two of you again or for you to say something else. He waited.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・ Tag List: @ohwaitimthewriter @saturnnie-03 @hera-annwn @filliandkili @hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @callsignwindow @moonchild1433 @kaenalsha @whamsworld @yummyfant @unsteady-bitch @twinspineout

( Sorry if tumblr is a jerk and doesn't tag properly. It does that sometimes I've noticed. )

[quirekey]

ORION PAX x D16 x GN!READER

[ orion Pax x D16 x gn!racer!reader ]

PART 2

Orion Pax and D16 slammed onto the ground and watched as the other racers flew past them into the finish line. The intimidating sound of wind flying by them filled their audio receptors and the two miners looked at each other with amused looks. The two pushed themselves up and dragged each other to the finish line.

You turn to see the two struggling and you find it somewhat humorous. You being friends with some of the miners gave you the knowledge that Sentinel either would be fuming or extremely glad that they made the race way more entertaining. You decided to not take your chances and quickly pick the two up, flinging them over your shoulders. The two were caught off guard and yelped as you ran off to the medical center with them hanging on you.

You ran to an empty room in the medical building and placed them down, towering over the two miners. Considering the two didn’t transform during the race and their body and paint were chipped and dusty clearly indicated that they were merely just cogless miners. The duo stood out to you due to their contrasting looks. One had a complementary scheme, a vibrant red and blue. The other was a round and choppy greyish yellow. They were both charming in their ways so you decided to speak up.

”Hey, what were you two doing in the race? It’s racers only.”

The red and blue one looked in awe and the grey one looked with absolute admiration glistening in his optics. They both were silent for a few seconds till the red and blue one spoke up.

”Hey, we were just a little lost… Mind if you take us out of here? We didn’t mean to join the race.”

He then looked at his friend with a side-eye and his friend also spoke up to seemingly back him up.,.

”Y- yeah…”

The grey one seemed way more offensive and sheepish, so you decided to introduce yourself.

”Well, it’s nice to meet you two. I am the ultimate racer, (y/n)-“

“Y/N! The one who rules all of the tracks of Iacon!”

The grey one then continued your sentence off with. You chuckled at his strange enthusiasm, you were quite surprised that he knew your catchphrase too, you don’t say it quite often.

”It’s so good- great! To meet you! It is an honour!”

He took your hand and shook it with absolute energy. The red and blue one stepped closer to the grey one, patting his back and chuckling.

”Name’s Orion Pax, my friend here is named D16.”

D16 then nodded, still smiling widely and holding onto your hand. He realises that he is being embarrassing and quickly pulled away, flustered to the core. Both you and Orion laughed quietly at his flushed state.

”I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you, (Y/N)! You are the best racer in all of Cybertron! I have all of your merch!”

“Oh! You're one big fan, aren’t you, D16? I’m glad to meet you, little guy”

You gave D16 a gentle little helm-ruffle which made D16 fall deeper into his state of embarrassment. Orion Pax loved the show he was getting, watching his own best-friend gain affection and attention from his biggest idol that he admired for his whole life. D16 leaned in when you pulled away, trying to gain more physical interaction with you. You smiled, you already now adore him and his little frame and personality.

“So, what merch do you even have? I don’t think it’s easy to get your hands on them…”

”Everything! Your stickers, magnets, posters, everything!”

He clenched his hands in exaggeration with the biggest smile yet. Though you didn’t believe him too much, you still went along with it and chuckled, returning the smile.

D16 then showed off his sticker that Orion Pax got him. It was a limited edition and holographic one of you, the type that could blind a bot if you reflected a bright light off it. You hovered your hand over his arm, where the sticker was placed. You were definitely and extremely surprised that a miner somehow got their hands on it, not that it was impossible. Now you know he was a massive fan of yours.

”It’s true! He even goes to every race you are in, which is all of them of course. He sometimes breaks my audio receptors because of how loud he is when he is cheering for you.”

“Shut up.”

D16 nudged Orion Pax, scoffing due to the treatment Orion was giving him. You chuckled and spoke up.

“I should bring you guys back to your… area. I need to get you guys out of here is all. Come on now.”

TO BE CONTINUED or end

(if you guys want a part 2, just say so :)

[thesimpirediaries]

Pet names.

featuring: izuku midoriya, bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, todoroki shoto

or, the first instance in which they called you by a pet name.

⚠️: fem!reader, language, slightly suggestive themes/elements, fluff, slight bodily descriptors.

word count: 1.5k

You bet your ass that the first time Izuku referred to you by a pet name, he stuttered helplessly over it. Scratch that — the first couple times he did it he stuttered.

“B-b-babe, could you hand me my notebook?”

It had certainly caught you off guard; in the few months that Izuku and yourself had been dating, you were always (y/n) or your hero name to him — hearing the term “babe” fall from his lips, even as stuttered and botched as it was, sounded so damn pleasant that you couldn’t help the wide grin that split your face.

“What was that, Izuku? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Izuku’s face could have rivaled the hue of a tomato as he repeated, “u-um, my notebook? Could you hand it to me?”

With a teasing smile, you tutted and shook your head. “I heard that part; I meant the part before it.”

Your hand stilled inside his bag as you watched him expectantly. Izuku’s viridian orbs were darting around the room, landing on every object except you, and his freckled cheeks were so red that you swore you could feel the heat permeating off of them despite the few feet of distance between the two of you.

“B-babe?” Izuku repeated, still avoiding your gaze, cheeks still red as a tomato.

It was actually quite endearing, the way he tried desperately to sound casual even as his entire being threatened to spontaneously combust. You knew from past experience that it wouldn’t bode well to continue to tease Izuku, so you relented and once again began to fish through his backpack.

“Which one do you need?” You inquired, hit with the sudden realization the Izuku had multiple notebooks tucked away inside his bag; another facet of your boyfriend that you found quite lovable — you’d always had a thing for the nerdy ones.

“Ah, number six. Sorry, I forgot to add that.”

You smiled softly at Izuku’s statement and gingerly pulled out a stack of notebooks, sifting through them until you located the one marked with a large six. You stood from the bed and meandered over to your boyfriend, a sly grin teasing at your lips.

You placed the thick, slightly rugged edition into his waiting palm, wrought with the desire to tease him just a little bit more. You planted your hands on the armrests of his chair and pulled it until Izuku could face you, then leaned forward until your lips barely ghosted his.

“I like the way it sounds when you call me that. You should do it more often, Izuku.” You whispered, lids dropped halfway over your eyes and a heat simmering low in your belly. The shuddered, breathy, hot pant Izuku released against your lips only added fuel to the fire.

“You’re in the way, dollface.”

You were sure Bakugou hadn’t meant for the word to affect you so viscerally — at least, not at the moment he said it, nor with the situation that had prompted it.

Rescue training was far departed from the list of Bakugou’s favorite hero activities, and he’d been in a bit of a foul mood ever since Aizawa had mentioned it; and even as his girlfriend, you weren’t spared of the backlash of it. Though, you didn’t get it quite as hard as the rest of the class did, at least.

As Bakugou had griped moments before, you were indeed in the way — there was no way he could get through to the ‘injured citizen’ with where you were standing, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Dollface. Dollface. Dollface.

The name, wrapped up in Bakugou’s rolling timbre, bounced around your skull and completely rid you of the ability to move — your face was quickly warming, and your chest was brimming with something fluttery, and, the longer it stayed on loop in your head, the more it affected you.

Bakugou had never called you something like that.

“W-what did you say?” You squeaked out, wide eyes trained on Bakugou’s scowling face. One blonde brow twitched, and you faintly registered a distinct crackling from below.

“You’re in the way.” Bakugou barked out once more, with a lot more patience than he would have with anyone else; though you figured many of your peers wouldn’t have been able to register that like you could.

“R-right.” You mumbled, stumbling quickly out of the way. Bakugou released a chortled breath from his nose and stalked forward — but of course, your boyfriend wasn’t an idiot, nor was he blind; he had noticed the way your cheeks colored prettily the moment your brain registered what he’d called you.

After he’d secured the ‘injured citizen’ over his shoulder, Bakugou leaned close to your ear, completely careless of the man strewn over him, and whispered lowly;

“Come to my room later, dollface. I’ll need some good entertainment after today.”

With Kirishima, a term of endearment was never optional; it was a standard, one that he was quick to set pretty soon after you’d started dating — and it didn’t take him long to find the one that he felt fit you the most; the one that, in his eyes, you embodied in every way.

“Come on, princess. You can get anything you want — it’s on me.”

At first, you weren’t sure what you were more flustered by; the sudden term of endearment he’d coined you with, or his insistence on paying for the entire meal. Your stunned silence was quickly registered by Kirishima, who scrunched his brows in a mixture of worry and bashfulness.

“Ah, I’m sorry, do you want to pay for your meal? I’m all for an independent woman, by the way.”

You truly weren’t prepared for just how much you liked it. For a long time, your focus had been occupied solely by your goal of becoming a pro; truthfully, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of dating anyone until you met Kirishima. His kind, chivalrous, bright nature had captivated you almost instantly, and you’d been drawn to him since day one.

And this suddenly-formed habit of referring to you as ‘princess’ was quickly nestling deep into your chest and sprouting warmth all throughout it.

With a soft laugh you hooked your arms around his, chest hot and fluttery, and pressed your body against his. You didn’t miss the way he sharply inhaled when your soft chest met his bicep.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced at the bright menu above you, the cedar-y undertones of Kirishima’s cologne tickling your nose as you took a soft breath — then, with a small smile, you glanced shyly up at Kirishima.

“Anything I want?” You softly parroted, prompting a bright, toothy smile from your boyfriend. Kirishima’s eyes were soft and full of something deep as he met your gaze.

“Anything you want, princess.”

God, you swore you were already in love.

In retrospect, you and Todoroki were polar opposites.

Todoroki was cool-headed, skilled, and calculated — you, on the other hand, were quick to temper, prone to impulsiveness, and hardly ever second-guessed your choices. Not to mention, the two of you hailed from completely different backgrounds.

Todoroki was raised with money, was held to a certain societal standard which molded many of his mannerisms, and was, in general, what you’d call fancy.

You were raised far more humbly, with just enough money to scrape by and not many luxuries to call your own, and so you had adapted a sort of carelessness towards your appearance and manners — you were you, and people were just supposed to accept that.

Yet, Todoroki had a way of making you feel as if you weren’t raised that way, as if you hailed from the same exact background as him — as if you were just as fancy, just as sophisticated, just as elegant.

And he did it so effortlessly.

“Do you want another cup of tea, darling?”

You nearly dropped your drained, pristine mug directly to the floor of his bedroom — whether it was influenced more by the sudden shock of his voice slicing through the silence or the unexpected use of the endearment, you weren’t sure.

“W-what?” You managed to choke out smartly, and, as if he were completely ignorant to the sudden short-circuit within your head, Todoroki pointed to the mug clasped within your hands.

“More tea. Your cup is empty.” Todoroki stated, and you glanced down at the cup, blinking rapidly. Darling. He called you darling.

You weren’t sure what to make of the new, warm feeling in your chest; but what you were sure of was that you quite liked it, and you quite liked the way that word sounded from Todoroki’s lips.

With a small, nearly shy smile, you extended your empty cup to Todoroki with a subtle nod.

“Yes, I’d like more tea, please. Thank you.”

Todoroki’s smile was dazzling, painting his face an even deeper shade of handsome, and his voice caressed you with a featherlight touch as he murmured, “of course, darling.”

eeek I had so much fun writing these! If you enjoyed, please don’t hesitate to leave a like/comment/reblog. And, if you like the way I write, maybe consider following or sending in a request of your own!

[mcrdvcks]

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

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

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

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

series masterlist - chapter 7 → chapter 8.5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

And, he realized, it wasn’t so bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smart kids,” he replied with a wink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like not finishing books.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” Theresa chimed in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan shrugged, standing and slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Told you. I’m not here for the lectures.”

You shook your head, but the warmth in his tone lingered, chasing away the awkwardness.

“And the next one is…” he looked down at the pamphlet but didn’t say anything, his brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend the words on the paper.

“Rabi Oscillations in a Large Josephson Junction Qubit,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. Your eyes flickered back to Logan, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You really don’t care about that talk, do you?”

Logan just shrugged, unfazed, his lips curling into a grin that made your heart skip. "Nah," he said simply, as though that was all there was to it. "Not my thing."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a soft warmth in your gaze as you looked at him. You had to admit, it was hard not to be aware of him, even in the middle of a room full of physicists discussing things you could barely wrap your head around. It wasn’t just that Logan had a presence that drew attention. It was the way he made you feel seen, even in a crowd.

Still, you tried to refocus on the upcoming lecture, shifting in your seat and tapping your pen against your notebook. The faintest flicker of discomfort crossed your mind as you realized you had no idea why you were even thinking about him this much, especially when you needed to be thinking about work.

Logan, meanwhile, seemed to have a permanent attachment to his casual indifference, but you noticed his gaze flicker to you again as you adjusted your glasses. His smile, small and knowing, stayed just at the edges of his lips, a quiet contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

"So," Logan began, stretching his legs out even more, "what else is on your little agenda for today?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how interested he seemed in your plans, despite the fact that he'd already admitted this wasn’t his idea of a good time. “You really want to know?”

“Why not?” He gave you a small shrug, making it clear he wasn’t just asking out of courtesy.

You hesitated. Your typical habit was to keep things close to your chest, but for some reason, you felt a little more open with him. Maybe it was the fact that you’d been awake for the better part of the night on the flight out, or that Logan, for all his gruffness, wasn’t like most people you met. And it wasn't just because he was a member of the X-Men—there was something more. Something you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I think there's a session on quantum coherence in the afternoon," you said, glancing down at your schedule. "And then the poster session afterward. You’re probably gonna get bored quickly with all of that."

A slight laugh rumbled in his chest. "Guess I’ll have to keep my eye out for any... interesting distractions," he said, his voice low and just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

You pretended not to notice the way his words lingered in the air between you, but you couldn’t quite hide the slight flush that creeped up your cheeks. It was... impossible not to notice him when he spoke like that.

The conversation drifted back to the talk as the lights dimmed once again, signaling the start of the next presentation. Logan’s eyes never fully left you, even as the speaker began his complex talk on quantum information systems. His gaze, though, was softened now, absent of the usual intensity. It was as if, in the span of a few moments, he'd gone from being the aloof, silent protector to someone who just... wanted to be near you.

The thought crossed your mind unbidden—Could he be like this with anyone? Or was it only you?

But before you could chase the thought any further, the speaker’s voice became the focus of the room again, and you pushed the lingering thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand.

---

After what felt like hours—though you knew it had only been a couple—you were finally able to slip out of the conference hall. The speaker had wrapped up, and you both decided it was time for a break. The session wasn’t your favorite, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved to step out into the cool California air.

“You don’t need to keep me company, you know,” you said, a little sheepishly, as Logan followed you down the hallway, close enough that his shadow loomed over yours.

His hand brushed against yours lightly, almost absentmindedly. “Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Least you could do?” you chuckled, giving him a teasing look over your shoulder. “You’re already here. What more could you possibly do?”

Logan’s lips curled into a faint smile at your teasing tone, though there was something different in his expression. "Maybe I just like being close to you."

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned your gaze forward, your cheeks warming despite your best attempts to hide it. “You sure it’s not just the coffee you're after?”

“Could be," he replied, his tone low but warm, almost as if he didn’t mind the teasing. "Could be.”

There was something in his voice, a hint of something unsaid, but you didn't push him on it. Instead, you focused on the coffee stand ahead of you, grateful for the distraction.

---

The week was over, and you both made it back to the mansion late in the evening. You stepped through the double doors of the X-Mansion, feeling the warmth of familiarity wrap around you after days of being surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Logan trailed behind, carrying both your duffle and his, despite your protests on the ride back.

“Seriously, I can carry my own bag,” you muttered as you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Don’t mention it, darlin’,” Logan replied casually, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He didn’t bother to look back as he headed toward the main staircase, your bag still slung effortlessly over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, pulling into a small, amused smile. It was hard to stay annoyed at him when he insisted on doing little things like that.

“Jean’s in the rec room,” Logan said as you both turned toward the hall.

“How can you possibly know that?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He just tapped his nose in response, grinning in that way he always did when he knew something you didn’t.

When you walked into the rec room, Jean was exactly where Logan had said she’d be—curled up on one of the couches with a book in her lap. She glanced up as you entered, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey! You’re back!” Jean closed her book and stood, crossing the room to pull you into a warm hug. “How was the conference?”

“Pretty great,” you said, grinning as you reached into the bag Logan had just set down. You pulled out a navy-blue baseball cap embroidered with the words Quantum Information Science in bold white letters and plopped it onto her head.

Jean laughed, adjusting the cap so it sat properly. “Oh, wow. I feel smarter already.”

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a quiet smirk on his face as he watched the two of you.

Jean’s eyes flickered to him briefly before settling back on you. “Did Logan behave himself?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, your cheeks warming slightly. “He was fine. Kept me company during some of the talks, even if I don’t think he understood a word of them.”

“I understood plenty,” Logan said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Like how coffee’s the most important part of any conference.”

Jean laughed softly and shook her head. “Sounds about right.”

You reached into your bag again, this time pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. “Oh, and I got you this,” you said, handing it to her.

Jean’s eyes lit up with curiosity as she unwrapped the package to reveal a sleek pen with her name engraved on the side. ��This is beautiful. Thank you, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, brushing off her gratitude with a shy smile.

Logan watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned toward the door. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

As he disappeared down the hallway, Jean turned to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “He’s been hanging around you a lot lately.”

You busied yourself with unpacking, trying to ignore the faint heat creeping up your neck. “We were just at the conference together. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” Jean said, her tone teasing but not pushy.

“Don’t start,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

Jean laughed softly, giving you a look that said she wasn’t going to let this go so easily. But for now, she dropped the subject, slipping the cap off her head and setting it on the coffee table.

“Alright, I’ll let it slide—this time. But only because I want to hear about all the science stuff I missed.”

You smiled, settling onto the couch beside her and launching into a recap of the conference, doing your best to keep the focus on the lectures and not the way Logan had stayed by your side through it all.

---

You were sitting on the bed with Jean when the first sneeze happened. You had just been telling her about how you were up with Jubilee last night since she caught a cold from Kitty, and now you hoped you weren’t getting sick.

Jean raised an eyebrow from her dresser, where the soft glow of a candle flickered against the room’s walls. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her expression shifting to mild concern as she turned to face you.

“Y/N, don’t tell me you’re catching what Jubilee had,” she said, folding her arms as she leaned back against the dresser.

You sniffled, rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand. “I don’t know. Maybe? She sneezed on me last night, and I don’t have a healing factor like Logan.”

Jean grimaced in sympathy and gestured for you to sit. “Well, you’re not about to suffer alone. Sit. Let me check.”

“Jean, I’m fine. It’s probably just a tickle.” But you obediently perched on the edge of her bed, watching as she crossed the room with her usual calm precision.

She pressed the back of her hand to your forehead, her cool touch a stark contrast to the faint warmth radiating from your skin. You crinkled your nose at the sensation, and she laughed softly. “You’re warm. Not quite a fever, but you should rest. I can cover your classes tomorrow if it gets worse.”

You started to protest, but she waved you off. “Don’t argue. If you’re sick, the students will survive one day without you explaining quantum mechanics.”

Your lips quirked up in a small smile. “Thanks, Jean. I owe you.”

“Always,” she replied lightly, moving back to the dresser. As she fiddled with the candle wick, she glanced at you. “Do you need anything? Tea? Soup?”

You shook your head, but just as you opened your mouth to respond, another sneeze caught you off guard. Jean sighed dramatically. “I’m taking that as a yes to tea.”

Before Jean could head to the kitchen, there was a knock at the doorframe. Both of you turned to see Scott leaning casually against it, arms crossed as a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you caught it now,” he said, nodding toward you.

“Caught what?” you asked, sniffling as you dabbed at your nose with a tissue.

“Whatever Jubilee had. She’s been sneezing all over the place like it’s her mutant power,” Scott replied, stepping into his and Jean’s shared room. He glanced at Jean. “Is it serious?”

Jean shook her head, giving you a playful yet sympathetic look. “Not yet. She’s warm, but I don’t think it’s a fever. Just a little rest and tea, and she’ll be fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you muttered, though another sneeze betrayed you mid-sentence. You groaned softly and dropped your head into your hands. “Okay, maybe a little tea wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll get it,” Scott said, surprising you. He glanced back at Jean, giving her a small smile. “You stay. I can handle tea duty.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “You? Making tea?”

“I’ve watched you do it enough times. How hard can it be?” he shot back, his tone light. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of you alone again.

You leaned back against the bed’s headboard, glancing at Jean. “Is it just me, or was that oddly thoughtful?”

Jean shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Scott can be thoughtful when he wants to be. He’s just not great at showing it all the time.” She perched on the edge of the bed, studying you. “But enough about him. What about you? When did you start feeling off?”

You shrugged. “Probably this morning. I thought it was just because I didn’t sleep well. Jubilee was up half the night, and I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

Jean smiled gently, nudging your arm. “You’re too nice sometimes, Y/N. It’s okay to put yourself first every now and then.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time a student sneezes directly into my face,” you replied dryly, earning a soft laugh from her.

---

The soft clink of glass against your nightstand roused you from sleep. Blinking through the haze, you squinted at the figure in your room. Even in your half-conscious state, there was no mistaking the broad frame, the wild hair, or the quiet, almost protective presence.

“Logan?” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a croak, as you shifted to prop yourself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, darlin’. It’s me,” he said, keeping his voice low. He straightened, setting down the glass of water and the small plastic cup with pills inside. “Figured you could use these.”

You blinked at the items, then at him, confusion mixing with an embarrassing sense of gratitude. “How did you know I wasn’t feeling well?”

He shrugged, his eyes scanning your face briefly before resting on the nightstand. “Jean mentioned it when I ran into her. Said you might need some downtime.”

“Oh,” you murmured, sinking back against your pillows. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t say I had to,” he cut in, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Wanted to.”

That simple statement left you momentarily speechless. You weren’t used to this—the small, subtle gestures that showed he cared in his own quiet way. Finally, you managed a faint smile. “That’s... really nice of you.”

Logan chuckled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Nice, huh? Don’t let that get around. Got a reputation to uphold.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound dissolving into a cough that you quickly muffled with the crook of your arm. Logan’s brow furrowed, the teasing edge slipping from his expression.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him, though your voice wavered just slightly. “Just need some rest. And maybe a hazmat suit next time Jubilee gets sick.”

That earned a low chuckle from him, and the sound sent a strange warmth curling in your chest. He pushed off the wall, his boots heavy but quiet against the floor as he approached your bed.

“Take the meds, Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “And drink the water. No arguing.”

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, though there was no bite in your tone. Reaching for the cup, you downed the pills with a grimace and a sip of water. When you glanced back at him, his gaze hadn’t shifted.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, setting the glass back on the nightstand. “Better.”

Logan lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you weren’t bluffing. Finally, he nodded, stepping back toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” he said gruffly, though his voice held an unexpected warmth.

“Logan,” you called softly before he could leave. He paused in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway. His head turned slightly, his sharp eyes flicking back to meet yours. “You can… stay if you want—or, uh, can you stay?”

The words tumbled out of you, shy but sincere, and you weren’t entirely sure what you expected. Logan hesitated, his fingers flexing slightly as they rested on the doorframe.

“I don’t wanna bother you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“You won’t,” you said quickly, the corners of your lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “I mean, unless you snore.”

That earned a faint chuckle from him. “You’re the one who’s sick, darlin’. Sure it’s not the other way around?”

You laughed softly, the sound fading into a sniffle. “Jean says I get cuddly when I’m sick,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your blanket. “Last time, she stayed in here with me instead of with Scott.”

Logan’s brows lifted at that, a mix of surprise and something else flickering in his expression. He stepped fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Alright,” he said after a long moment. “But if I’m stayin’, you’re restin’. Deal?”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the bed as Logan pulled up the chair from the corner of the room. He turned it backward, settling into it with his arms crossed over the back.

But the sight of him there—close, but not close enough—made you hesitate. Gathering your courage, you patted the empty space on the bed beside you. “You could sit here, you know. It’s more comfortable than that chair.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the spot, then back to you. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Logan studied you for a moment longer before nodding. He rose from the chair and approached the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat on the edge. When he didn’t move further, you reached out and tugged lightly on his sleeve.

“You don’t bite, do you?” you teased, the shyness in your voice tempered by a touch of humor.

That coaxed a smirk from him. “Not unless I’m provoked.”

You rolled your eyes but shifted to give him more room. What he didn’t expect—what surprised him to his core—was the way you shifted closer, curling into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your head rested on his shoulder, and one of your hands lightly gripped the fabric of his shirt.

“Jean was right,” you murmured sleepily, the warmth of him lulling you into comfort. “I do get cuddly when I’m sick.”

Logan swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing as he glanced down at you. His arm, tentative at first, came up to wrap around your shoulders, his hand resting lightly against your arm. His heart, which had weathered over a century of battles and losses, seemed to ache in a way it hadn’t in decades. Not since the last time you’d smiled at him like that—lifetimes ago.

“You’re fine, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a rumble. “Get some rest.”

You hummed in response, already half-asleep, your breathing steadying as you settled deeper into his side. Logan leaned his head back against the headboard, the faint scent of your shampoo lingering in the air between you.

He couldn’t remember where he was born. Couldn’t remember the faces of his parents, or the details of any life he’d had before them. But he remembered you—every life, every smile, every loss.

And as you rested against him, Logan vowed silently that this time, he’d do everything in his power to protect you. For as long as he could, for as long as fate allowed, he’d stay by your side.

---

Logan opened the kitchen door, his palm resting against it until it clicked open fully. You walked through without hesitation, balancing a pile of graded papers in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. Your focus was elsewhere, likely on your day’s agenda, leaving you unaware of the small effort he made to keep the door steady for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured absently, not looking back as you continued into the hallway.

Logan followed behind, his boots a quiet, steady rhythm on the floor. He didn’t respond, didn’t need to—you’d said the same thing a dozen times this week alone, and each time, you hadn’t quite noticed who you were thanking. His lips tugged into a faint smirk as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

The hallway was bustling with students heading to classes, some chatting animatedly, others juggling books or laptops. Logan stepped closer to your side, subtly adjusting his pace to match yours as the two of you navigated the crowd.

One of the students, a wiry teenager with goggles perched on his head, nearly stumbled into you as he fiddled with a small gadget in his hands. Logan’s hand shot out, a firm but careful grip on your elbow guiding you out of the boy’s path.

“Eyes up,” Logan said, his tone gruff but not harsh.

“Sorry, Mr. Logan!” He called back, clutching his gadget and scurrying off.

You glanced up, startled for a moment, before flashing Logan a small, grateful smile. “That kid’s going to accidentally build a time machine one day.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. “Probably already did. Just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

You shook your head, your smile lingering as you shifted the papers under your arm. Logan stayed close as the two of you weaved through the remaining students. When you reached the door to your classroom, you paused, glancing at him as he leaned against the frame.

“You’re not my shadow, are you?” you teased, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Guess you’d know if I was,” he quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged the door open with your shoulder, juggling your tea and papers. Before you could get too far, Logan’s hand darted out, steadying the door before it could swing back against you.

“Thanks again,” you said, the words automatic as you made your way inside.

This time, Logan didn’t reply, watching as you set your things down on your desk and began sorting through them. You were focused, your brow furrowing slightly as you pulled a red pen from the pocket of your blazer and began marking something on one of the papers. He didn’t interrupt, but he didn’t leave either, leaning against the doorframe and letting his gaze linger just long enough to notice, once again, the faint sheen of gloss on your lips.

Logan clenched his jaw, willing the thought away as he straightened and stepped into the room. “You eat anything yet?”

“Hm?” You glanced up, your pen pausing mid-sentence. “Oh, uh, not yet. I’ve got a granola bar somewhere.”

Logan raised a brow, unimpressed. “That’s not breakfast, Y/N.”

“It’s close enough,” you argued, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

“C’mon,” Logan said, jerking his head toward the hallway. “Kitchen’s still got pancakes out.”

You hesitated, glancing between your papers and the door. “I should really get through these—”

“They’ll wait,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “And so will the kids. You’re not gonna teach ‘em anything on an empty stomach.”

You sighed, relenting with a small smile. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

Logan smirked, stepping aside to let you pass before falling into step behind you. As the two of you walked, he couldn’t help the faint sense of satisfaction that crept over him.

You might not have noticed the small things—the doors, the guiding hand, the way he made sure to keep you in his sight in a crowd—but he did. He noticed everything, because every moment with you, no matter how ordinary, felt like a fleeting gift.

And if there was one thing Logan had learned in the countless lifetimes he’d lived, it was how to savor the things worth remembering.

---

You sat on the bench in the Danger Room, the kids, Rogue, Bobby, Peter, and Kitty, had just left, Jean and Ororo behind them.

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your water bottle, clutched between your hands.

Jean leaned against the bench beside you, her expression calm but thoughtful as she took in your posture—the hunched shoulders, the downturned gaze on the water bottle cradled in your hands.

"Rough session?" she asked gently, her voice breaking the quiet.

You exhaled slowly, barely lifting your head. "Not rough. Just... pointless."

Jean frowned, shifting slightly to face you more directly. "Pointless? You’re one of the smartest people here, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you handle yourself in simulations. You’re anything but pointless."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Simulations are one thing. But in real life, what can I do? Everyone else has powers that actually help in a fight. Logan, you, Ororo... even Bobby. And then there’s me—slowing down time but not actually stopping anything from happening. It’s like... I’m just a delay button, not a solution."

Jean tilted her head, her brows knitting in concern. "You don’t think slowing time is a solution?"

"Not when it’s all I can do," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t fight. I can’t stop an attack. I can’t... save anyone. Not really."

Jean was quiet for a moment, her gaze softening. When she spoke again, her tone was steady but full of warmth. "Y/N, the reason so many of us are still here—why we’ve survived the fights we’ve been through—is because of people like you. People who think ahead, who create opportunities for the rest of us to make it out alive. Slowing time isn’t just a delay; it’s giving us a chance to breathe, to act, to survive."

You didn’t look up, but her words seemed to reach you, making your grip on the water bottle loosen slightly. Jean shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

"You’ve saved people more times than you realize," she continued. "It’s easy to think that because you’re not throwing punches or shooting fire, you’re not contributing. But the truth is, without you, a lot of us wouldn’t have the chance to do those things in the first place."

You blinked, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. "I just... feel like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Jean’s hand squeezed your arm gently, grounding you. "I’ve known you long enough to know that’s not true. And I think, deep down, you know it too. It’s not about being like everyone else, Y/N. It’s about being you—and using what you have to make a difference. And you do make a difference."

Her words hung in the air, settling in your chest like a quiet reassurance. You nodded slowly, still unsure but comforted nonetheless.

"You’re not alone in this," Jean added softly, her gaze turning slightly distant as if searching for something she couldn’t quite grasp. "We’re a team, and we’ve got your back. Just like you’ve got ours."

You managed a small, grateful smile, finally looking up at her. "Thanks, Jean. Really."

She smiled back, but there was something in her eyes—a flicker of something not quite Jean. It passed quickly, but not before you noticed it.

"You’ll see," she said, her tone steady again. "You’re stronger than you think."

And as she rose from the bench, her hand briefly brushing against your shoulder, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her words meant more than she let on. As if she knew something neither of you could quite explain.

---

You were making a simple pasta dish for yourself for dinner, it’s not something you do often, but since you didn’t have anything to do this Saturday night, you thought ‘why not?’

The pasta was almost done, the garlic and onions were caramelized in the pan, and now all you needed was the small can of tomato paste in the cupboard, way above your head.

You got on your tiptoes and reached up, your fingers grazing the can but unable to fully grasp it. You let out a huff as you stood back on your feet, frustration bubbling.

“Fine,” you muttered, glancing at the counter. Climbing up was starting to look like your only option.

You grabbed the edge of the counter and were just about to boost yourself up when a low voice from behind startled you.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?”

You spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Logan leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He looked like he’d been there for a moment, just watching.

“I—uh,” you stammered, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Logan pushed off the frame, walking toward you in that unhurried way of his. “Not my fault you’re so focused on... whatever it is you’re makin’ over there.” His eyes flicked to the stove before landing back on you. “What’s goin’ on? You stuck?”

You folded your arms, trying to mask your embarrassment. “I can get it. I was just about to—”

“Climb up there like a squirrel?” Logan teased, one brow arching. Without waiting for your reply, he stepped closer, his hand settled on your lower back as he reached over your head. Logan held the can of tomato paste out to you, the smirk still lingering as his eyes scanned your face. “There. Easy enough, yeah?”

You took the can from his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers brush against yours. “I had it under control,” you replied, though your tone lacked conviction.

“Sure, sweetheart.” His voice was low and teasing, but not mocking. “Looked like you were about to break out a ladder for that one.”

Your cheeks flushed as you turned toward the stove, trying to focus on your cooking rather than the way his presence seemed to fill the room. “Thanks, though,” you muttered, keeping your back to him.

“Don’t mention it.” Logan didn’t move away, instead leaning against the counter beside you, watching as you added the paste to the pan. “So, this what you do for fun on a Saturday night? Whip up a fancy dinner for one?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Not exactly. Just didn’t feel like the dining hall tonight.” You stirred the mixture, trying not to let his teasing tone get to you. “Besides, it’s not that fancy.”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Smells pretty damn good for ‘not that fancy.’”

You felt your lips twitch into a small smile despite yourself. “It’s just pasta.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still impressed.” He nodded toward the pan. “You always this good in the kitchen, or is this a one-time thing?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Definitely not a regular thing. Usually, I stick to coffee and toast.”

“Figures.” Logan reached over, snagging a piece of garlic bread from the plate on the counter before you could stop him. He took a bite, his smirk deepening. “Not bad, though. You might be sellin’ yourself short.”

“Hey!” You playfully swatted at his arm. “That’s supposed to go with dinner.”

He held the bread just out of your reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m just helpin’ you taste-test. Gotta make sure it’s up to standard.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Fine. Just don’t eat all of it.”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, raising his free hand in mock sincerity before taking another bite.

You turned your attention back to the stove, but you were acutely aware of Logan’s lingering gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it was grounding, like he was anchoring you in the moment. Still, it made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, less teasing. “What’re you doin’ with the rest of your night?”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the bubbling sauce. “Probably nothing. Maybe read a little.”

“That Physics of Time book you’re always lugging around?”

You blinked at him in surprise. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to.” He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to that rough, intimate tone that always seemed to make your pulse quicken. “You carry it like it’s part of you.”

“Well, it’s... interesting,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And, you know, kind of relevant.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess it is, huh? Still, doesn’t sound like much of a Saturday night. You ever think about takin’ a break? Havin’ some fun?”

Your lips parted, caught off guard by the question. “I... guess I just don’t think about it much.”

He tilted his head, studying you with a look that felt uncomfortably close to knowing. “Maybe you should. Life’s short, darlin’.”

You couldn’t help the small, ironic smile that tugged at your lips. “Coming from you?”

His expression softened, something almost wistful flickering in his eyes. “Even for me.”

The moment hung between you, quiet and heavy, until the sauce began to hiss and pop, snapping you back to the present. You turned to the stove, giving the pot a quick stir. “You staying for dinner, or was this just a drive-by teasing?”

Logan smirked, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Depends. You invitin’ me?”

You hesitated, then glanced at him over your shoulder. “Maybe.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, you saw something behind it—a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to say. “Guess I’ll stick around then.”

You turned the burner off before going to a bottom cabinet and pressing the wall inside, revealing five wine glasses and a bottle of wine. You grabbed two glasses and the bottle before placing them on the counter.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “so there is alcohol here.”

You chuckled, “it’s mine and Jean’s secret. We had Scott build a secret compartment a while ago for us.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk as he reached for the wine bottle. “Scott, huh? He’s got a soft spot for his favorite students, I take it?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling a corkscrew from the drawer. “More like Jean batted her eyelashes, and he caved. I’m just lucky to reap the benefits.”

“Smart move.” Logan opened the bottle with ease, the cork popping with a soft thwip. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Logan poured two glasses, sliding one toward you. “Don’t sell yourself short. A secret wine stash, cooking skills you claim are ‘basic,’ and a brain that can bend time—pretty damn impressive if you ask me.”

You laughed softly, taking the glass. “When you put it like that, it sounds cooler than it is.”

Logan lifted his glass, his eyes meeting yours over the rim. “Trust me, it’s cool.”

For a moment, you were caught in his gaze, the easy confidence in his expression making your pulse quicken. Then you shook your head, breaking the moment. “Okay, well, to secret wine stashes and mediocre pasta.”

Logan clinked his glass against yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

You both took a sip, the smooth wine adding a warmth that settled over you as the night unfolded. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you plate the pasta and sauce. You felt his presence like a magnet, steady and impossible to ignore. When you finally handed him a plate, he took it with a nod of thanks, heading toward the table without being asked.

“You always this much of a gentleman?” you teased, carrying your own plate to the table.

“Depends who I’m with,” Logan replied, pulling out your chair. His voice was casual, but there was a weight behind the words that made your breath hitch.

You settled into your seat, trying not to overthink it. “Guess I should feel special then.”

“You should,” Logan said simply, taking the seat across from you. He didn’t elaborate, but the look he gave you said plenty.

The two of you ate in companionable silence for a moment before Logan spoke again. “Jean know you’re hiding wine from her boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on your pasta. “She’s the one who helped me hide it! I’m not about to risk her wrath by spilling the secret.”

Logan chuckled, his grin wide. “Good to know you’ve got a rebellious streak.”

“It’s not rebellion,” you said, twirling your fork. “It’s... strategic resource allocation.”

He laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, ranging from light teasing about your cooking to him recounting a story about a bar fight he once got into over a bad jukebox selection. You found yourself relaxing, the usual shyness that often held you back melting away under Logan’s steady, easy presence.

After dinner, you leaned back in your chair, sipping the last of your wine. “Thanks for sticking around. It was... nice.”

“Nice, huh?” Logan leaned back, resting his arm on the back of his chair. “High praise.”

You laughed softly. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” His tone softened, and his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary. “You’re good company, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short on that either.”

You ducked your head, hiding your smile behind your glass. “Thanks.”

Logan stood, gathering both plates before you could protest. “I’ll get these.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut you off gently, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You watched him move to the sink, his broad shoulders a comforting presence even as he washed the dishes. A warmth settled in your chest that had nothing to do with the wine.

For the first time in a long time, the quiet of a Saturday night didn’t feel so lonely.

And Logan had to ignore the faint pink stain on your wine glass in the shape of your lips.

remember to go read the next chapter for the full story!

[not-neverland06]

How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII

Series Masterlist

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I see a lot of comments talking about how you guys wished they would just communicate. They are communicating its just that neither of them know what they want. Summary: All you want is to just be clean. He offers to show you a nice little spot where you can finally scrape the grime off of you. What could go wrong?

“So,” you shifted your bag further up your arm. You were favoring the left today on account of the giant gap he had left in your right bicep. You were still pretty pissed off about that. “Do you ever, you know, bathe?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, he seemed caught off guard by the question. “Bathe?” He repeated, face raised in surprise.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, “Yeah, bathe. I’ve been out here over a week. I’ve got about twenty layers of blood and sand stuck in every crevice.” Your skin crawled thinking about the different types of bodily fluid you’d been sprayed with since coming out of the cryo pod. 

There was a lot of blood, of course, but Hollywood doesn’t show everything that gets excreted in death. You were itching for a good shower. You know that’s out of the question, but there’s got to be something. 

He laughed and ripped off a piece of jerky. He offered you some, grinning when you shook your head. “Buckle up, sweetheart, you’re in for a rude awakening. You can always use the water, but that’s a waste of Radaway if you ask me.” You should have known. It’s not like anyone you’d encountered seemed particularly gung ho about personal hygiene, but you had hoped there would be something. 

You reached down, digging your nails into your arm and scratching off flakes of blood and who knows what else. You shouldn’t have bothered, though, it only made the rest of you feel a hundred times worse. You looked crazy, scratching at yourself like a dog but you couldn’t help it. 

“Alright, damn, I’ll give you some of my Radaway, you look half rabid.”

You stopped with your scratching and stared at him in shock. “You’ll give me some of your Radaway?”

He rolled his eyes, stopping only when he noticed you’d quit walking. “Is that not what I said?”

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “You’re not exactly known for your generosity. What’s the catch?”

He frowned and clutched at his chest like you’d actually done damage, “Now, that hurts darling. I’m just trying to help you out.” He turned around, walking to the right now, further towards greenery and away from the desert. “Plus, it’ll get rid of that fucking smell.”

You kept your mouth shut but he was one to talk. He hadn’t exactly tasted wonderful when he’d kissed you. Nor did he smell amazing. Still, he had made your heart race and it wasn’t from pure terror for once. Though, any positive feelings he’d caused within you had been negated the second he dropped you to the dirt like a used up toy. 

You knew better than to try and bring it up to him, but it had stung. Attacked that vulnerable part of you that made you want to put up walls so high even the sun couldn’t get through. 

With no other choice you sped up and caught up to him. Your hip was still bothering you, but it wasn’t dragging behind you as much as it was a few days ago. The only thing really bugging you now was your throbbing arm. He’d assured you that it couldn’t rot, he’d dealt with that, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. 

“Through here is a lake you can use.” He pointed towards the area where the trees started to thin out. 

You looked at him skeptically, “You’re really letting me do this?”

He scoffed and glared at you, “The fuck did I tell you?” You don’t know if he’s talking about his new rule to stop questioning him or about giving you the Radaway, but you keep your mouth shut anyway. He hasn’t been as much of a dick today and you’d rather keep it that way. 

“Here,” he motions through the trees and you stumble into an abandoned neighborhood. It’s been submerged in water, you can spot some old apartment buildings peeking up through the top. 

Briefly, you wonder if you’ve ever passed your old home and just never realized it. You dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes, not willing to let your mind linger on thoughts like that today. 

You slowly make your way to the water, still not entirely trusting of his intentions. He’s made it clear he’s keeping you around for the long haul, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped tormenting you. “You’re really gonna let me use your Radaway?” You call over your shoulder. 

He sighs and leans against the trunk of a tree. “Get your ass in the water, I won’t wait around all day. 

You’re not dumb enough to fully submerge yourself in radiated water. You just rip a piece of your shirt off and dunk it into the startlingly blue lake. You use it to scrub yourself down, rubbing your arms until they’re raw and feel clean enough. 

You shuffle closer to the water, trying to bend over enough to scrub your face a bit. But when you gaze down into the water you find something gazing back up at you. You scream, scrambling back just as that thing leaps out of the water and towards you. 

Something pink and wet slams into your chest and knocks the air out of your lungs. You grope blindly in the mud for your gun as it opens its mouth. Horror and disgust fill you when you see what’s in its mouth, human fingers dangle like disgusting uvulas. It darts forward, jaw posed to clamp around your whole face. 

A loud bang echoes through the lake. The thing goes flying back and causes ripples to drift across the surface of the water. You clutch your chest, trying to get your breath back and scoot closer to get a better look at whatever attacked you. It’s the size of your torso and looks startling like some deformed axolotl. He’s left a large bullet hole in the middle of it’s head deformed head.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, shakily getting to your feet and groaning when you realize whatever you’d manage to clean off had been replaced by a thick layer of mud. 

You turn around, hoping for some sort of explanation from him, but he’s just bent over laughing, gun still smoking. You grab your bag out of the muck with a huff and glare at him. “Really?”

He straightens up, still grinning and shakes his head. “You should have seen your face, you were petrified.”

”Well, I’m glad someone enjoyed that.” You glare down at the corpse, eyes wide with horror, “It’s got fucking fingers in it’s throat. Human fingers!” He saunters over to you, entirely too pleased with himself. He grabs his inhaler out of his bag and loads it with Radaway. He tosses it over to you and you catch it with your good arm. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” You press down and take in a deep breath, ignoring how bitter the juice tastes. 

“Never trust anything, rule number one of the Wastelands darling. Can’t even trust the water.” There was a loud roar off towards the middle of the lake and he nodded his head back towards the tree line. “Come on, that one was just a baby Gulper. Momma’s gonna be by soon and I can’t imagine she’ll be real happy.” He walks off without you and you’re stuck staring at the dead mutant. 

“That was a fucking baby?” He laughs at you again and when you catch up with him, you can't help but laugh a little yourself. You probably looked ridiculous, wrestling in the mud with what, apparently, was only an infant. 

He grins at you, “You got a lot to learn.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

He’s kneeled down beside you, fingers prodding at the reddened area around your wound. It feels a bit better now, more like touching a fresh bruise rather than raw nerves. He poured some water from his canteen over the area and retied the bandage. He stood up and moved away from you while you dug around in your bag for another ration bar. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You’ve got the bar positioned between your knees, and you’re trying, hopelessly, to open it up with one hand. Your fingers, now dusted with dried mud, slip uselessly against the packaging. 

He looks up at you and lets out a loud sigh. “Give it here.”

”I’ve got it-”

“Give. It. Here.” You huff but toss the bar over to him. He rips it open in one smooth move and throws it back to you. You catch it with your good hand and take a large chunk out of it. It feels like rubber and tastes oddly like dried out meatloaf. You’re not exactly sure what flavor it’s supposed to be replicating, but you figure it’s so old it doesn’t really matter as long as it fills you up. 

He pours some water from his canteen onto a ripped piece of cloth and tosses it at you. You’re unprepared, bar in hand and midchew, it slaps against your face and you scowl under the fabric. “Really?” You mutter, mouth half full. You yank it off your face and give him a questioning look. 

“Just clean yourself up.” 

You drag it across your face and arms, trying to get off as much residual mud as you can. Your clothes are a stained, lost cause, but this will do for now. Not like you’re going to get much better without going up against some mutant monster. 

“You’re being nice today?” It comes out like a question more than anything. Probably because you’re having trouble trusting him, especially after the Gulper incident. You wished you could say you can’t believe he would do something like that, but you’re pretty sure he’d been hoping the mom would get you, not the baby. 

He shrugged and leaned back against a fallen log. “Feelin’ chivalrous.”

You hummed but didn’t push. You forced down another lump of your ration and reached for your water. “Where are we heading anyway? Been walking for a long time but we haven’t seem to have gotten anywhere.”

“There’s a compound I took a bounty for. We’re on our way to deliver it.”

You tilted your head as far back as you could, tongue out and hoping to catch the remaining drops of your water. “Shit,” you tossed the canteen back in your bag, already knowing it was hopeless. 

“Ah, hell,” you glanced up and saw Cooper rifling through his supply box. 

“How are you on Radaway?”

He sighed and chucked the box back into his bag. “Got two vials left.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, a pensive expression on his face. 

You sighed and rubbed idly at some mud left on your fingers. “You’re gonna need more soon.”

He cut you off with a sharp laugh. “Faster than soon, this is the diluted shit.” He rubbed at his chest and you wondered if he was already starting to feel the effects of being so low on the medicine. You can’t believe he gave you a vial of his own with so few left. 

Bastard must’ve really wanted to see you get jumped by a gulper. Your face twisted up in distaste and any twinge of sympathy you’d felt for him dissapeared. You wished he would cough so hard he’d choke on his tongue, at least then you wouldn’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore. 

He looked over at you and then your bag. “Got any of that purified water left?” You shook your head, crumpling the wrapper of your bar up and tossing it somewhere behind you, 

“Just ran out, not sure where I’m gonna find more.”

He chuckled and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I do,” you stood up and grabbed your own bag, following behind him. 

Loud laughter and rowdy conversation drifts into the night air. You sit perched behind a large boulder, staring into the building across from you. It’s an old supermarket, refurbished to fit the Wastelanders' needs. “They’ll have what we need?”

He doesn’t look at you, his sight is dead set on the men milling about in front of you. They’re clearly guards, switching positions every couple of minutes and loaded to the teeth with weapons. Cooper silently tracks them, eyes darting between them as they switch positions yet again. 

“Yep,” he lifts up into a squat and watches as one of the men turns his back to lace up his boot. “Now!” He grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and drags you along as he weaves between the guards. He throws you in front of him, practically tossing you inside the store. 

You hold back your gasp of shock and duck behind a waist-high shelf. There are only seven or eight men walking around inside. They’ve got a fire burning in the middle of the store, the empty shelves pushed back against the walls. Behind them is about the largest pile of supplies you’ve seen since being up here. They could give Ma June a run for her money. 

You peek your head over the shelf and try to get a look at just how many weapons they have. You hear the familiar sound of spurs walking behind you and twist immediately to see Cooper walking calmly towards the group with his hands raised in surrender. He catches your eye and winks before he fully addresses them. 

“Gentlemen!” You sigh and sink back against the shelf, an irritated look on your face. The shelf screeched forward slightly and you scrambled off it, you caught Cooper twitch a little in irritation but he didn’t say anything. He’s been fully noticed at this point, the others all glaring at him with their guns raised. 

He had a full view of all eight men from his perspective. What he couldn’t see, which you could, was a ninth man sneaking up behind him with a knife. He had it poised, aiming to strike right through the back of Cooper’s neck. 

Without thinking too much on it, you leapt out of your hiding spot and used your good arm to point your gun in the man’s face. He came to a stop almost cartoonishly, eyes wide and the knife in his hands trembling when you popped out. 

Cooper barely gave you a glance out of the side of his eye and you figured he knew all about the ninth man. He must have been testing you, see if you really had his back. “Hey!”

“Who the fuck is she!”

“What are you doing here?”

You ignored the sounds of their voices, you kept the gun trained on the boy and motioned him towards the left of the room. He followed, letting you guide him backwards until he was scrambling to hide behind his friends. It’s then that you finally got a good look at just how many guns were trained on you. 

One of them pumped their shotgun and you pulled back the hammer of your gun. Cooper’s guns were still tucked away in their holster, it was just you and however much firepower they could cram between ten pairs of hands. 

“Now, I suggest that you gentlemen put those guns down or my friend here is gonna get a little too friendly with her trigger.”

One of them scoffed, gesturing with the barrel of their pistol towards your right arm hanging limply by your side. “She got a bad arm and a shaking hand.”

“Maybe,” you call out, “but I got a working finger. I only need one of ‘em to kill you.”

Before he can respond there’s another one stepping forward. “She can get real friendly with me.” He’s got a lecherous grin on his face and a look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You sigh, sick of the men up here being so predictable, and turn your gun on him. His eyes widen, like he hadn’t seen you pointing it at his friends, and you pull the trigger. 

Your aim is a little off and the recoil is harder to handle with only one hand available to you, but you’ve got a sawed off shotgun in your hand, don’t have to have a great aim to kill a man with that. His twitching body has barely hit the ground before you’re diving to the right and ducking behind a shelving unit. 

Cooper goes to the left, eyes wide in the same astonishment as those men. Bullets started flying the second their friend was on the ground. They were shouting all sorts of insults and threats at you but it was hard to make out over all the shooting.

“You shot him!” Cooper shouted over the hail fire of bullets.

You rolled your eyes and did your best to reload the gun with your wobbly hand. “He pissed me off,” you shouted back at him. You leveled the gun over the top of the shelves and fired blindly. There was a loud yelp and then another Bitch shouted at you, so you must have hit something. 

“You know, I was trying to handle this civilly,” Cooper jumped to his knees and turned around quickly. He fired off a quick succession of shots, four bodies dropped as he did. The rate of gunfire slowed a bit as more men fell. He ducked down and ran across the room, throwing himself down next to you. He tossed his guns at you and tugged yours out of your hand. “Reload me,” you nodded and tugged some bullets out of his bandolier while he used your gun to shoot at them. 

“I’m sure you handling it civilly would have ended the exact same fucking way.”

He grinned and sat back next to you, “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe. Maybe not, doesn’t matter now.” You handed him his reloaded guns and he dropped yours in your lap. “Only a few left, use the shelves as cover and circle around behind ‘em.” He didn’t stay to make sure you understood his plan, he immediately set off, drawing the fire away from you and making a run for it. 

“Shit,” you hissed, struggling to your feet and following his instructions. With only a few of them left it should have been quick work to get rid of the last few stragglers, but the guards from outside had heard the scuffle and were rushing in. Cooper shot most of them but one got close enough to snatch his gun from his hands and throw it to the floor. 

Cooper struggled against the man, his towering form easily overpowering Cooper. Though, your friend didn’t seem particularly worried, if anything it looked like he was letting the man live to draw out the fight, like he was enjoying it. 

You were going to just leave him to it when you saw the same bastard from before with the knife sneaking up behind him again. You rush forward, scooping up Cooper’s gun as you go and shove the man backwards. 

He grunts at the impact but he refused to be deterred. He charges at you, eyes red with rage and blackened mouth frothing like a rabid dog. You try and keep your guard up but you’ve got a gimp leg and a useless arm, it’s not a fight you’re going to win. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you into him. You grunt, breathing out slowly as you feel his knife slide into your gut. You glance down at the rusted blade and shove your gun under his chin. His eyes widen when you draw the hammer back but you don’t flinch when you pull the trigger, not even when chunks of skull and hair start raining down on you. 

Cooper must have finally noticed the tussle happening behind him because he draws his second gun out from under his coat and ends his little fight with the last of them. You must be in shock, you still haven’t fully experienced the pain that you should. 

There’s a knife sunk past the handle slammed into your gut, you should be feeling something shouldn’t you? You’re sure it’s the adrenaline still pumping through you. Your body is warm from how fast your blood is pumping, your ears ringing from all the gunshots and head spinning from the amount of blood steadily leaking out of the wound. 

“Hey,” you turn around to face him and his eyes widen ever so slightly. You lose your footing and he darts forward, quick arms grab you and draw you into his chest. You clutch onto the sleeve of his jacket, letting all of your weight rest on him while you try and get your panicked breathing under control. 

You’ve had worse injuries than this. As hard as it is to believe, in your time up here, you’ve survived a lot worse than some measly stab wound. 

So why does this feel so fucking bad?

“Oh,” you moan in pain, nearly doubling over. A feeling like a million exposed nerves being set on fire stops you from falling to the floor, instead you push off Cooper and struggle to your feet. 

“Alright, come on,” he grabs your arm again and you have the ridiculous urge to just shove him off you. Your head is swimming,  you feel like you could float away. You look down at the knife again and finally realize just how large it is. One of those hunting ones that was about the width of your hand curled into a fist. 

Well, fuck.

“Hey,” he snaps when you stumble away from him again. “Sit your stubborn ass down, you need help.” He yanks on the straps of your shirt, holding you up and dragging you to a chair, you don’t have much choice as he forces you to sit. Though, the motion causes a wave of excruciating pain to flare through you. 

He kneels in front of you and rips your shirt open, you’re in too much pain to complain about it right now. He hums low in the back of his throat as he takes in the wound. With no warning whatsoever he grabs the knife by the handle and yanks it out like he’s ripping off a fucking bandaid. 

You nearly scream, lurching forward and shoving him away from you. The sudden shock of pain has left you half blind and panting like an animal. “What the fuck was that?” You force out through gritted teeth. He plants a hand on your shoulder and presses you firmly against the back of the chair. 

“Need to get you a Stimpak.” He takes your hand in his and presses it against the wound. Where blood was once oozing, it’s now gushing. You hadn’t realized just how much keeping the knife in had kept the blood at bay. With how rapidly it’s leaving you now you’re afraid. 

You’re afraid that you might not be able to make it back from the edge with just a Stimpak. You can already feel your fingers going cold, pretty soon you won’t be able to flex them and then you’d lose feeling in your arms too. 

“Hey,” he uses the grip he has on your hand to press down on the wound. You groan but he keeps the pressure steady. His eyes bore into your dazed ones, some odd expression in them. “You don’t get to give up. Keep pressure on this, understand me?” Your head flops forward in a lazy nod. 

He could have been gone for a minute or an hour, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Your head is foggy, coherent thoughts replaced by loopy ones. You’re struggling to remember where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing. 

Just as your hand slips from the wound, he comes back. He grabs your hand and places it back, holding it there with his own. You appreciate the way he warms your fingers back up, but the rest of you is freezing too. Maybe he’d share his jacket. 

The thought of him sharing anything makes you laugh and he gives you a frustrated look. “Don’t go losing it on me. Not yet at least.”

You lean forward, face nearly pressed against his and grin. “You know, I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

He scoffed, opening the Stimpak with one hand and preparing the injector. “Yeah, for what?”

“Saving your life, dick.”

You’re caught off guard when he slams the needle into your stomach, your lips part with a silent gasp and you wince at the cool rush of medicine. He grins at you, “Well, thank you for being the only dumbass to get herself stabbed in a gun fight.”

The medicine works fast, you learned that from when he’d shot you. You can already start to feel the pulse of blood slowing and your head clearing up slightly. “Asshole,” you hiss, leaning away from him. But his eyes stay trained on you, on both of your blood covered hands and where they still rest, linked together, on your stomach. 

You find yourself taking advantage of his distraction to really look at him. It bothers you, how after everything, his eyes are still so pretty. It’s the first thing that drew your attention when you were younger. Those eyes of his had you swooning from the first time you saw him on the big screen. 

He catches you but you can’t find it in yourself to care. There’s something odd in the air, a lingering tension from the kiss you’d never discussed. From the silent partnership you’d never voiced. You’d nearly gotten yourself killed for him tonight, the thought finally seemed to be dawning on him. 

His eyes drop to your lips and he leans in. He doesn’t get very far, lips just barely brushing yours before you’re jerking back in surprise. You’re bleeding out in his hands and he kisses you? Your hand is up and cracking across his cheek before you can think about it. 

His head whips to the side with a satisfying crack. He lets out a breathy chuckle, using his free hand to soothe the area you’d hit. He stretches the tension out of his jaw and shakes his head before he looks at you again. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you. You definitely shouldn’t be further entertaining his ideas that he holds any sort of possession for you, but you’d just realized what that look in his eyes had been earlier. He had been worried about you. 

Cooper has always been the one who protected you. Not the other way around. And as twisted as he’d become, it still relatively remained the same dynamic today. You’d caught him off guard earlier, putting yourself in danger like that for him. And he had been worried about you. 

You grab him by the collar of his jacket and drag him forward before he can decide what to do with the fact that you slapped him. Your lips meet again and he hovers over you on your chair. The hand on your stomach pushes harder against you, deepening the pressure and making you groan into his mouth. 

He doesn’t waste time, deepening the kiss and letting his other bloodied hand drift into your hair. His fingers curl around the strands and he yanks your neck back, manipulating you how he wants and bending you to his desires. You melt into it, into the complete control you allow him to momentarily wield over you. 

You let your mind go blank and just focus on him. You can pretend, for now, that you’re in his old house. You’re coming back after a date at one of those fancy restaurants that he hates, but he takes you there anyway so you can have an excuse to dress up. 

He’ll whisper I love you and drag you to the couch. You’ll start there, his kisses traveling lower until he’s dragging you back to his bedroom. You’ll feel valued, cherished, loved. Cooper will take care of you. 

He parts slowly from you, still keeping a firm grip on your hair. It takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open again. You’re sure you look like a mess, staring up at him with glossy eyes and swollen lips, completely drenched in your own blood. 

“Don’t think about him when I’m the one kissing you, darling.” Your eyes widen and he lets you go. He shoves back from you and paces towards his bag. Any warmth in his eyes, any care, was gone. 

You want to say something to drag him back but the moment has passed. It’s not like he was wrong, you were pretending he was someone completely different to make yourself feel better. 

But you couldn’t make yourself feel guilty when you remembered half the reason you needed the comfort was because of who he was now. He comes back with a needle and thread. He lets the needle hover over the men’s fire for a moment before he approaches you with it. “Stimpak will only do so much, need to sew you up.”

You nodded and looked away as he knelt down and pressed the needle into your skin. You barely felt it,  could barely pay attention to him when your thoughts were on what it was like before. What he was like before. Sometimes it makes you sick to your stomach to look at him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[lovegalor333]

lord please save her for me

paige bueckers x fem oc

story info • chapter one

hi bbys! thank you for the love on chapter one, part of me wishes i never started this lmao maybe its my ocd but i hate it already but im gonna keep going but i think ill just stick to one shots once im finished with this 🤓

chapter two:

this is why leni didn’t drink often. the pounding head, dry throat, intense nausea and violent shakes were not worth it. the girl had decided that her day was going to consist of rotting on the couch. she was already wrapped in her fluffiest blanket and had netflix playing in the background. riley had left a few moments ago to go to work and leni was glad of it. she felt guilty about kissing paige last night but not guilty enough to stop fantasising about it.

paige clouded her dreams last night. coming to leni in her sleep like some sort of devine sign. she dreamed of what life was like before when paige was a constant in her life. she woke up in bed alone and cold and questioning everything.

it took leni a long time to even look at another girl after paige. but when riley asked her to go for coffee one day all leni could see was her blonde hair and light eyes. if she couldn’t have paige, she would settle for riley and that’s what she did. riley was a nice girl and treated leni well but she would never be paige and deep down, leni knew that all she was doing was filling a void.

there was short knock at lenis apartment door and she considered not answering it because she was too comfortable but she imagined it would be riley, having forgotten something or the other. wrapping the blanket around herself like a cape, she trudged to the front door and opened it without looking through the peep hole.

“paige?” leni was caught off guard seeing the basketball player at her door. hair tied into a low messy bun, grey beanie pulled over her head. she was wearing what paige always wore, sweats and a uconn huskies tee. the silver cross chain that leni was oh so familiar with, hung delicately around her neck. but something leni wasn’t familiar with was the rectangle, clear framed glasses that were perched on the bridge of paiges nose. they were new and it made leni feel something she couldn’t quite place. sadness because it showed change in paiges life that leni had no idea about? attraction because the girl in front of her looked hot as hell with her new accessory? whatever it was, leni had been thinking about it for too long and not heard what paige had said.

“so…” paige trailed off waiting for an answer to her question that had fallen on deaf ears. “sorry- what did you say? actually, what are you doing here? how do you know where i live?” leni asks a series of questions as reality hits and she realises what is going on. paige is at her apartment.

PAIGE is at HER APARTMENT.

“i said can i come in?” paige repeats herself for lenis benefit but she doesn’t wait for an answer before stepping inside. paige looks around lenis apartment, taking in the foreign view. she notices small accents that make it obvious this is where leni lives. the photobooth pictures tacked to the wall, the string lights adorning the window frame, the copious amounts of potted plants dotted around, the place was leni all over.

leni looked different from last night, obviously, but that didn’t bother paige. she always thought the tanned skin girl looked pretty in her natural state. tossled curls, makeup free skin, comfy clothes. lenis beauty had no limit and paige wished she had told her that more often.

“i didn’t actually say yes.” leni mumbles but closes the front door anyway. “how do you know where i live?” after the fallout from her and paige, leni applied to transfer accommodation and her request was granted. in her head, a new space signified a fresh start. somewhere paige hadn’t infiltrated…until this very moment. “it wasn’t easy. money was involved.” paige tells her with a nod of her head. “you paid someone to tell you where i live? that’s the kind of thing that gets someone branded as a creep.” leni says starting to feel awkward, stood in the entrance way, still wrapped in her blanket, curly hair a mess from the night before and her embarrassingly juvenile bunny slippers on her feet.

“i thought it was romantic.” leni rolls her eyes, “paige, please. i can’t have a repeat of last night. i can’t go over all this again. last night was a mistake. we were both drunk and i meant what i said. we need to go back to not knowing each other. it’s-” lenis words were rushed and messy and her heart pounded as she spoke. her body was having an adverse reaction to what she was saying. morally last night was a mistake but for someone who always lead with her heart, it wasn’t.

“i ended it with camilla.” what?

“what?” lenis brain felt like it was turning to mush. from the hangover mainly but also because of what paige had just said.

“i ended it with-“ paige begins to repeat herself but leni cuts her off.

“yeah. i heard what you said. but why would you do that paige?”

“because of you len. for you.” leni shook her head which only intensified her headache, “paige you make me laugh. not because you’re comedically funny but because you’re insane funny. you broke up with your girlfriend for me?”

“yes i broke up with her because of you. not that it matters, but we’ve only been together a few weeks. it was never going to work out. me and her, we didn’t fit. not the way you and I fit, len.” paige gestured between the them and leni understood because she felt the same about riley. both girls were searching for each other in different people. it was an impossible task because to paige no one could compare to leni and to leni no one could compare to paige.

“why now paige? why after all this time?” leni mutters, vlice soft and sweet.

“last night. seeing you. speaking to you. kissing you. i know that all means something. and you think i didn’t try? you blocked my number and my instagram and my snapchat and my tiktok, you even blocked my student email for goodness sake! real mature by the way. you moved apartments. you did everything you could to avoid me. i had given up hope and then last night…”

“last night i was drunk! do you really hate me so much that you can’t stand to see me happy? you just have to throw a spanner in the works?”

“hate? HATE?! leni you are so far off it’s ridiculous. and are you happy? are you really? because you’re doing all this shit that isn’t you. going to parties, getting drunk, you don’t have your nails done and you took your nose piercing out.” leni almost always had her nails done, the most elaborate sets too and her nose piercing was a part of her personality at this point so of course paige noticed when both were absent.

“just because i’ve changed doesn’t mean im not happy.” leni scoffed, taking steps further into the apartment. the close proximity of her and paige was beginning to get to her. she could smell her cologne, vanilla and woody. it was nostalgic.

“don’t give me that bullshit, leni. i know you more than you’d like to admit. tell me you’re genuinely happy. just say the words and i’ll let go. i’ll let you go.” paige had matched lenis steps and was just as close to her, if not closer than she was when they were by the door.

like last night, leni couldn’t say it. leni couldn’t tell paige she was happy because she wasn’t. she was comfortable. she had settled for riley. it was secure and consistent and she was content but she wasn’t happy.

lenis silence only encouraged paiges actions. paige knew if she was happy she would say it- hell, she would scream it. leni was a scorpio and a true one at that. she loved passionately and intensely and she wanted the whole world to know. if she really loved riley and was really happy, paige would have to accept that but that just wasn’t the case.

paiges movements were calculated. soft and gentle, a stark comparison to lenis rushed and needy ones last night. she cupped the shorter girls face, taking a moment to study her perfect features without the the influence of alcohol. her eyes were such a deep shade of brown, almost black. paige truly believed leni could move mountains with a single blink. her lips were naturally plump, with an exaggerated cupids bow that made them so enticing paige felt dread just at the thought of never having them pressed against her own again. her brows were carved into the most precise arches and when she glanced up at paige her lashes were long enough to reach her brow bone. to paige, leni had the type of beauty that the greeks would have carved into marble.

paige traced over lenis lips with her thumb and lenis eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, “paige…don’t.” she breathed out but she didn’t do anything to stop paige leaning down and kissing her. she didn’t pull away, she didn’t refuse to open her mouth to allow paiges tongue to slid in, in fact, she moved her own tongue in accordance. she moved her head to the side to allow paige a better angle. she dropped her blanket and let paige to guide her backwards by her waist, not breaking the kiss. and when her legs hit the back of the couch and paige laid her down, she opened her legs just enough for paige to insert herself inbetween them.

when paige reached for the waistband of lenis pyjama shorts she made a point of looking in her eyes, waiting for the go ahead. leni nodded, in a haze of need and yearning for the girl leaning over her, everything else disappeared. riley. the hurt paige had caused. the months of healing. it all washed away in a wave of pure love. lust. love? lust.

“say what you want, len.” paige needed to hear words.

“fuck me, paige...please.”

thank u for reading baddies! as always let me know if u wanna be added to the tag list 💋

tag list: @unadulteratedcyclepaper @heart4caitlin @jadasogay @avvwritesstufff @bueckersp

story info • chapter one

[amnesique]

do you write smut? if you do, can you write the scene in episode 1(i think?) where belly tells conrad to quit smoking and he says "what will you give me if i do" but that it leads to smut?

and can you do it with x reader instead of belly if possible please, thank you so much :)

what'll you give me if i do? — conrad fisher

warnings: SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI!), dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, p in v.

there was a wave of fog that enveloped every girl that stood around conrad fisher, as if it was encouraging them to pluck up the courage to pass through it to try to understand what was happening to the boy, besides the silence that surrounded him wherever he was. and yet, none of them seemed to succeed. at least, not yet.

the fisher boy was sitting in the back yard, by the pool, with his feet in the water as he was lazily smoking a cigarette. something you saw him doing more and more that summer, even though that summer had just started.

being belly's cousin, the daughter of his mother's best friend, it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to spend the summer with them, although the fact that you jumped into the pool, as if was out of nowhere, caught him a little off guard.

he was staring fixedly with a cigarette in hand at the place where you had plunged into the water.

“sorry,” you murmured to him after getting out of the water, not before flipping your already damp hair back. "i haven't seen you here," you added, trying to adjust your vision, because of the water on your face.

"no problem," he replied dryly, taking another drag from his cigarette.

typical conrad fisher, you thought, as you suddenly just then noticed the fact that he was smoking, after your gaze had adjusted enough.

"since when do you smoke?” you asked him in a tone that was meant to be accusing, but it only ended up making conrad smile at the corner of his mouth, immediately after blowing the cigarette steam into the dark night sky.

"don't tell me you care," he said, running his tongue across the front of his teeth, accentuating his smile from before.

he took another drag from his cigarette, his gaze locked on you as he did so.

you didn't know what to answer.

you didn't care, did you?

but your mouth got you ahead of you and you found yourself telling him "i think you should quit."

"what'll you give me if i do?"

you didn't know what had made you stop breathing in the first place, his words or the way he let the smoke leave as he continued to have a smile on his face, this time actually looking more of a grin than a smile.

conrad knew that smoking can be attractive to certain girls, even for you —despite the fact that you had just suggested that he quit—, and he took full advantage of it.

acting on the spur of the moment, you swam the remaining distance between you and rose to the surface in just a few seconds. you put your arms on either side of his body, leaning on the edge of the pool for balance, and you suddenly connected your lips with his while he put out the cigarette.

he quickly took the opportunity to wrap his free arm around your waist to help keep you afloat, as he rushed to deepen the kiss the moment your lips parted slightly over his when you felt his touch on your wet skin, ignoring the presence of your bathing suit.

he was so good at kissing you that you were so damn grateful for his arm holding you. because if it hadn't been there, then you would surely have drowned already if you had to support yourself alone.

a faint sound left your lips as, using his hand around your waist, he pulled you all the way over his lap, lifting you out of the pool. a sound that he would've liked to hear endlessly.

only, being the wrong people at the wrong time, jeremiah and steven showed up outside the house, making a lot of noise before they noticed you, and you immediately pulled away from conrad, leaving him yearning for having you again in his lap.

you were preoccupied with looking at each other, both mentally cursing the two of them —conrad more than you—, that you didn't even realize what they were talking about. not until steven addressed conrad specifically, "come on, man, we're leaving," he said with excitement visible all over his face and conrad struggled to look away from you to look at him. "you ready?"

you weren't aware of what it was about, but it didn't matter either, because conrad was quick to turn him down. "actually, change of plan, man, i can't come tonight."

both steven and jeremiah looked at him confused.

steven raised an eyebrow. "how? why?" he asked.

conrad fisher was not a man of many words, so he just shrugged and said, "something else came up."

jeremiah and steven exchanged glances, not knowing whether to believe him or not, but neither of them would've thought that the thing that came up was actually someone and you were right in front of them. eventually they gave up and left the backyard, leaving you alone with conrad again and with a tension between you which could not be overlooked, the desire still being on both sides.

"soo," you lengthened the letter because you didn't know what to say, "good night, i think," you added and you wanted to leave, but he grabbed your hand and when you looked at him, you couldn't take your eyes off his gaze and the way you could see he was longing for you.

"good night?" he used a tone to tease you and a grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. "it would be a good night if you continued what you started."

"what?"

your cheeks flushed and you stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

oh, your naivety.

it attracted him even more that even though you were perfectly aware of what you had started, you were unaware of the effect you were having on him.

he pulled your hand so that your legs were around his lap again, placing his hands on your back, lightly forming circles on it with his long fingers, and his lips on your neck. when you felt his lips on your neck, you involuntarily arched your back and moved against his growing erection, having him gasping to try and keep his control.

"don't move," he warned you, his mouth now close to your ear as he lowered his hands to your waist to stop you.

but the area where you needed him was starting to throb and yearn for his touch, forgetting about the layers of clothing that would separate you both from making skin to skin contact.

you tried to tell him that, but instead you made a soft sound, almost like a whimper, and he couldn't resist the temptation anymore and pressed his lips to yours, kissing them as if hungrily as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

and so it was.

only he knew how often it became painful to see you in a short dress or a bathing suit, making him think about how you would look without any clothing item.

during the kiss, you started to rub against him again taking advantage of his carelessness and when your pulsing core made contact with his length, your lips parted and you sent a soft moan into his mouth, right before his tongue entered your mouth and entwined with yours in a dance of desire.

you continued the kiss for several seconds, conrad completely dominating you while you tried to keep up with him.

you broke the kiss, leaning back just as you could breath and whispered under heavy breath, "we shouldn't be doing this."

"why?" conrad asked you, breathing just as hard, running his finger over your bottom lip.

"anyone can see us here," you said and you weren't phased that you saw another grin appear on his face.

"let that be our last problem,” he replied and lifted you off of him, taking you over his shoulder and covering your bottom with his hand as he slipped through the back door to go up to his room, without you two bumping into the belly or even worse, into one of the mothers.

you reached his room and he put you down, with your back to the door, as soon as he made sure he locked it, and the way he looked at you made your thighs squeeze around nothing.

"i think you should ditch the swimsuit, love, or you'll catch a cold."

you swallowed hard, looking at him as he measured you from head to toe, and you couldn't go on even though you wanted it more than anything.

he noticed your avoidance and moved closer to you, playing with the strap of your swimsuit, his breath blowing lightly heat against your skin. he couldn't be more wrong than that. there was no way you could catch a cold, even though your bathing suit was indeed still wet, when your whole body was on fire for him.

"do you want me to help you?" he whispered, brushing your hair aside with his free hand so he could see your neck.

with your breath caught in your throat, you nodded your approval and his hand lifted your chin with two fingers, bringing your lips to his.

"with words, love."

you snapped out of your trance, muttering an "yes", just to urge him on.

his hands slowly went down one strap at a time, taking his sweet time to look at your chest as it was right under his nose, and he couldn't control himself and grabbed both of your breasts with his hands, gently massaging them, drawing a weak moan from you. he ran his tongue over one of them, continuing to caress the other as he removed the entire bathing suit from your body and moved down, wanting to run his mouth over your body, but you stopped him, instinctively grabbing him by the hair to get his attention, and he could've sworn he was almost ready to finish in his pants, right then and there.

"aren't your clothes also wet after the moment before?" you asked, and he gave you a knowing smile.

he pulled away from you, the smile still playing on his lips, and he removed one item of clothing one at a time, earning a sigh from you each time. you liked what you saw.

he was only in his boxers and started to come towards you, but you put your hand on his chest, stopping him. “not fair,” you said and looked at him seriously, so he chuckled in a low tone and took them off as well, leaving you both completely naked in the moonlight that filtered through the blinds of the bedroom window.

plucking up some courage and trying not to think about how big he was, you pulled his neck towards you and you kissed him, as he pushed you back towards the bed until you fell on it. he leaned over you, continuing the kiss and helping you get comfortable between his pillows.

"are you sure?" he asked and you agreed. he moved his hand down between you and when he reached your opening he felt how wet you were and he smirked against your lips. "all this for me?" he asked teasing you but inserted a finger of his inside you, making you open your mouth slightly. "shh, love," he cooed, and kissed you briefly, earning your moans as he inserted another finger and and he curled them just right so he can touch the place that made you lose yourself under him. "we wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we?" he continued and asked you between short kisses,

you wanted to tell him you were close, your breathing becoming alert as you followed your release. but he already knew that by the way you squeezed his fingers inside you, so he suddenly withdrew, at which point you whimpered and felt your body begin to calm down, though you still felt the desire pulsing at your core.

"i won't let you finish until you finish when i'm inside you," he assured you and reached to grab a condom from the bedside drawer and open it with his teeth as he roll it on.

you moaned in anticipation, involuntarily clenching your thighs, but he pulled them apart, making a sound of disapproval and positioning himself at your entrance. "i hope you haven't changed your mind because i don't think i can back down now,” he said, tucking a strand of hair, that sticks to your face because of the moisture on it, behind your ear as he watched you while standing on his elbows at the either side of your body. and when he met your gaze, you placed your hands on his cheeks, kissing him and pulling him back down over you, giving him the answer.

he put it inside you, waiting a bit until you squeezed his hand to continue as you both moaned at the contact, and he picked up the speed.

"you feel so fucking good," he said and your moans had become his new favorite sound, he could have listened to you all day and all evening and he would not have had enough.

he was nearing his finish, and he couldn't resist anymore, so his movements became sloppier and faster, as he lowered his hand to massage your clit in small circles to help you both finish at the same time.

the only sounds in the room were your hurried, strangled breaths, and the sounds of wetness as his body pounded inside you, until the released washed up over you both, and he fell on your chest.

"it was amazing. worth quiting smoking for," he said unexpectedly from the euphoric high he was feeling, —more euphoric than the feeling he got from smoking—, and you giggled under him, hiding your face with a hand as the other one hugged his body softly.

[undiscovered-horizon]

In Emerald Hearts, Emerald Minds - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of unwanted advances + suggested groping + suggestive/sexual (consensual) themes]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

SUMMARY: When Vasily asks you to forget his half-brother and marry him instead, you escape the Little Palace along Alina. Nikolai realizes something strange is going on when Kaz mentions seeing a similar emerald ring on the woman that came with the Sun Summoner. With how much you and Nikolai have been running in circles to find each other, the reunion aboard Volkvolny feels almost fated.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.6k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

It feels like the Winter Fete has been going on forever. The champagne keeps on being poured, the guests keep on dancing and the circus acts just keep on performing as though tomorrow is a mere mirage, a concept of a certain time period that never actually comes. Inside those walls of gold and marble, the misery devouring all of Ravka seems like nothing beyond a mad nightmare - something so removed from reality, it’s hilarious in its ridiculousness. Everyone is so carefree and happy you almost take their joy as your own.

Almost.

The orchestra begins playing Waltz of the Flowers and you feel your throat tighten. Despite doing your best not to, your mind relives that fateful night when everything changed. For the longest time, you’d been claiming that the change was for the better but now, standing alone for another year in a row and watching the dashing aristocrats spin to the music, you’re not so sure anymore.

“You really need to stop doing this,” Nikolai says firmly. Although his tone is decisive and clearly unwilling to accept defiance, a pronounced hint of amusement lives between his words - a thread of light-heartedness, one might say.

Your eyebrows gently furrow. “Doing what?”

“Smiling at me like that. Any longer and I might ask you to marry me.”

It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams. Trying to contain your emotions, and failing at it quite horribly, you bite your lower lip. “I might say yes.”

“Where have you gone, Kolya?” you whisper under your breath. The gloss of vacancy covering your eyes blurs the dancing bodies into one mass of faceless strangers. But it also makes you not notice someone approaching you.

“I find it quite admirable.”

Vasily’s voice startles you. To your now-gone relief, you didn’t have the displeasure of running into him all evening - until now. If you were to list all of the things about the older Lantsov son that makes your skin crawl, you’d be done by the time another Winter Fete is organized. The top of the list, however, deserves to be mentioned as it’s an inseparable part of your every interaction with the prince: he’s quite adamant and crude in his desire to be more than just a future brother-in-law to you.

“Excuse me?” you stutter out.

That patronizing look on his face is now accompanied by a cocky half-grin as he realizes he caught you off-guard. “Your devotion to my brother. For all we know, he might be already dead, Saints’ protect him.”

“Don’t even say that!” you hiss at him. Right after, you look around to check whether one of the guests has noticed your unpleasant exchange.

Despite what you’ve just said, you know he’s right. There’s no way you can be sure that your Kolya is either dead or alive. Perhaps this is the detail further ripping your heart apart - you don’t know anything about his fate; you’re mourning, although you’re yet to see the coffin. You haven’t for a few years now and each passing month of silence only made court gossip more cruel and bold.

“All I’m saying, dearest,” Vasily begins quietly as his hand drags along your arm, “is that the moment the news of Nikolai’s death reaches the Grand Palace, you’ll be thrown out. On the other hand, I can make you the Queen of Ravka. And unlike my brother, I won’t disappear off the face of the Earth and forget about his beloved lady.”

The word of endearment is dripping with sarcasm as it leaves his chapped lips. His breath reeks of alcohol and you unknowingly turn your head away. Vasily seems to think you’re about to leave his side, so his hand tightly grips your arm. The hold is almost bruising. He yanks you even closer towards himself.

“Kolya hasn’t forgotten about me,” you say in a shaky voice. Maybe he’s not as foolish as he appears and Vasily is genuinely trying to break you down.

The prince studies your face for a moment, definitely noticing how shaken you are. His eyes have the strangest glint to them - something between desire and contempt. “Is that so?” he barely stifles a grim laugh. “He would have written you a letter if that were true, no?”

Tears sting your eyes. Vasily is certainly smarter, or at least more cruel, than he lets on. He knows exactly what to say to get into your head. It’s a startling difference between him and Nikolai - only one of them does what he can to keep a smile on your face. Well, did.

His dirty, rough hand grabs your chin. Vasily forces you to look at him, his smile wavers upon noticing your desperation. “Consider your options, зайка,” he purrs out. The prince’s other hand trails your face. “The choice is yours.”

A tear falls down your cheek. You feel it rolling across your skin and you silently hope the guests surrounding you are watching this scene. Then, you lean in even closer to Vasily’s face. The whisper leaves your lips like a viper’s venomous hiss: "I will marry you the day you lay his dead body at my feet."

To your surprise, Vasily drops his hands and takes a step back. Despite the self-assured smile on his face, you can see the fury inside his eyes. “As you wish.” He bows curtly, turns on his heel and marches away, undoubtedly looking for another glass of alcohol and a lady naive enough to warm his bed.

The palace suddenly feels stuffy and overcrowded; the music is too loud, the plethora of smells make your head spin.

Outside. You need to get outside.

Bumping into several guests and mumbling half-coherent apologies, you run through the halls of the Little Palace. When the cold, night air hits your flushed cheeks, only then do you stop. Taking in a deep breath, you can actually feel your thoughts becoming clearer. 

With each gust of freezing wind, all the anger and sadness is leaving your shaking body. Vasily just wanted to get a rise out of you and, as much as you don’t want to admit it, he succeeded. Unlike he claims, Nikolai surely is alive. Maybe bruised or sick or not sleeping well but as long as there’s no news about him being dead, he is as alive as one can be. The same starry sky hangs above your and his heads. Perhaps, in this small moment of longing, he’s thinking about you too. Wherever he is.

A tired sigh leaves your lips. You’re about to turn around and go back inside when a silhouette moving in the night catches your attention. The shape is swift although careful like a lizard approaching a fly. You see them looking around before running for another few meters only to hide behind a bush or piece of architecture.

Curious and a little scared, you follow the stranger towards one of the carriages. Quietly, you get close enough to grab their wrist. The shape lets out a gasp and turns around to look at you.

“Alina?!” you whisper. What in Saints’ mercy is she doing? You look at her warm, casual clothes and the bag on her back. “Are you running away?”

“I need to leave,” she answers equally quietly. Her voice as well as her stare is filled with certainty - she’s convinced beyond reasonable doubt this is the right thing to do. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

You let go of her hand. “Stop you?” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” she deadpans. Alina is staring at you with a vacant stare and her mouth slightly agape. Apparently exchanging royal comforts for hay and stolen apples is unthinkable.

“If I have to spend one more day around Vasily, I will murder someone.”

Alina slowly nods her head - she can definitely understand the sentiment. A dimwitted Fjerdan would have more charm than the older prince. But then she squints her eyes, looking at you with a sense of scepticism.

“Out there, there won’t be warm beds and three-course dinners, you know?”

“I know,” you answer with a careless shrug. Loitering and wandering isn’t for ladies of your sort, it’s like throwing a finless fish into a tank with sharks. Despite that, you’re quite convinced the means justify the end, at least in this scenario. “But out there is my Kolya. And I’m done politely waiting for him.”

A shadow of sadness covers her face. If there’s anyone who can understand your plight, it’s her. In fact, she is luckier than you - she saw her lover maybe an hour ago. Pleasant or unpleasant, the meeting confirmed to her that Mal is at least alive. It’s not a privilege you could afford.

“Then let’s go,” she says to you before opening the chest in the back of the carriage. Forgetting all of your etiquette and social standing, you climb into the compartment with her. Towards adventure or death, you’re going somewhere.

“The ring gave you away,” Kaz announces. “It’s too expensive for a bodyguard.”

Jesper knits his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering something. He leans towards Kaz but speaks a little too loudly for the question to be inconspicuous: “Didn’t that girl wear the same-”

When Kaz’s cold glare meets Jesper’s squinted eyes, the dark-skinned man immediately closes his mouth halfway through the question. Both of them sit back as they were but the cat is already out of the bag. Well, not entirely - half of it is peeking out of the metaphorical sack.

Nikolai looks between them with unmissable suspicion. Although he’s heard enough to be aware of the possibility that the Sun Summoner isn’t travelling by herself, this is the first time either of the Crows admits it.

His heart begins to beat slightly quicker: Alina run away from the Little Palace along with another woman and that lady was wearing a royal jewel at the time. As long as Vasily didn’t lose his signet on one of his distasteful escapades, the course of events points to only one person - you. Shoving his restless excitement into the deepest chasms of his heart, Nikolai manages to remain his composure:

“Who was wearing that ring?” The prince-turned-privateer unknowingly fiddles with the heavy jewellery on his finger. Noticing the Crows’ reluctance, he makes them an offer: “If you tell me who you saw wearing an emerald ring, I might, say, give you ten minutes to escape.” Nikolai vaguely gestures to the closed window on his right-hand side.

Kaz knows there’s no point in lying any longer. The man in front of him is not only well-informed but also smarter than he looks, making the Crow wonder whether he also knows the answer to this question but prefers to play some kind of a game. In any event, he’s done his part of the deal and his ex-accomplices are left to their own devices. Additionally, he could really use those ten minutes. “A young woman that accompanied Alina Starkov. High-born, confident, decisive. Not a Grisha as far as I know.”

“Not a Lantsov, obviously,” Jesper chips in.

Brekker’s keen eyes catch the barely noticeable change in Sturmhond’s expression - the corner of his mouth merely stuttered up and down but it is enough to tell Kaz as much as he needs:

“You know her.”

Know her? If Nikolai had a weaker grip on his emotions at the moment, he’d laugh until his stomach and diaphragm hurt and then he’ll burst with laughter once more, unspeakably joyous that he might get to see her sooner than he thought. Yes, he does know her but in the way heart knows blood and lungs know air. She’s the ligament that keeps his bones together, the fibres that construct his muscles, the very blood that runs in his veins. Does the Moon simply know the stars? Do trees know their roots and branches?

But for now, he needs to stay focused. 

“Not really,” Sturmhond answers while scrunching his nose. “Many aristocrats wear a ring like that. While I may know of a lot of them, I hardly know anything about them.”

Kaz fights back a mocking half-grin begging to twist his thin lips. “I’d argue that an emerald in Ravka is a rather rare gem.”

“Hers is probably genuine. Mine’s stolen.”

Silence falls between the three men. Nikolai and Kaz are staring each other down, battling in some kind of war of wits and nerves, waiting for the other to give in. Jesper is stealing glances at both of them, feeling the cold tension rise in the air.

Against his deep-seated desire, Kaz doesn’t inquire further about the emeralds or the strange coincidence that the two enigmatic characters wearing them might know each other. He sits back in the chair, his shoulders visibly drop. As much as he’d love to dig deeper, he’d much rather get out of here and reclaim his freedom that is now endangered.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nikolai begins in an upbeat tone, “your ten minutes start now.”

Without saying anything else, he leaves the room. Only then, when the dark, wooden door close behind him, does he let suppressed emotions wash over him. A quiet chuckle brushes past his lips and for a moment even tears sting his eyes. Delight, worry, relief - conflicting sensations merge into one, completely overpowering flame burning inside his chest.

Maybe he doesn’t have the Sun Summoner and he still needs to come up with a plan to catch her but Nikolai hasn’t been this happy for a while now: his солиышко is alright, still making the world brighter and warmer. If he can get to Alina Starkov, he might see her again, although he begins to wonder whether she wishes to see him after all those years of silence and ignorance. But if he can see her, just witness the marvel of her entire being even for one last second, he’ll be cured of the longing and loneliness that has been gnawing at him ever since he left Os Alta.

You’re following the Shu man to what you assume is his captain’s cuddy. The ship creeks and groans under the weight of the crew as well as the power of the waves. The bussing crewmen spare the three of you a glance, only to show disinterest and go back to their duties. It’s a nice change compared to the kerchen ship you travelled on to Novyi Zem, where the captain asked Alina and you to stay under the deck because of the sailors’ superstition. After getting off the ship, it took you a good week to wash out the reek of cured cod from your clothes and hair. Sometimes you still felt like you can smell it in the air, even in the dusty wind sweeping through Novyi Zem.

Your ‘guide’ pushes the door and they swing open with a creak, the list of the ship aiding the motion. Except for the squeaky hinges, probably rusting faster than anyone can manage, Volkvolny is in good shape. In fact, it looks brand new - no mould or woodworms.

“Captain, request for charter,” the stocky stranger announces with a hint of amusement or excitement in his voice. Despite his imposing visage, the Shu man has made a good impression on you but the long sword on his back kept you vigilant against getting too comfortable in his company.

Only when he moves to the side, presenting the three of you to his captain, do you see the face of the infamous Sturmhond.

You want to laugh. In fact, you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from bursting out with laughter. This situation feels like the strangest coincidence that you can think of, which in turn makes you suspect that it’s not a coincidence at all. Because what are the odds?

Nikolai’s face momentarily brightens up when he recognizes you, a new glint lights up his eyes. He looks different than you remember but in all the right ways: his shoulders look broader and his hair is longer, curling in a way that makes him appear more infantile. You remembered him as a handsome man but the Nikolai in front of you is beautiful enough to be considered unreal.

He's staring into you like a deer caught in headlights until Tolya hands him Alina’s unusual means of payment. As Nikolai is turning the piece of jewellery in his fingers, you notice another change: his hands look rougher, definitely scarred from all the adventures you hope you’re yet to hear about.

The blond prince turns his attention back to Alina, Mal and you. “A gold hairpin can get you anywhere. But an emerald ring?” He gestures to you. “It can get you everywhere.”

“It’s not for sale,” you answer, although you know he’s not trying to buy it. After all, he’s the one that gave it to you.

“I don’t want it.” Nikolai shakes his head. Then, a flirty smile appears on his face. “Looks better on you anyway, doll.”

You’re about to respond to his remark when his attention is once again placed on Alina. “Now, Tolya says you’re looking for a charter. Where are we sailing?”

Alina begins the story with ‘the creation of the world’ as your mother used to say: the Little Palace, Darkling, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Fold. Nikolai nods along, never giving away that he’s privy to most of the story. He doesn’t believe in the Sea Whip at first but that’s hardly his fault - not too long ago people wouldn’t believe in the existence of the Sun Summoner and now she’s standing beside you, nervously rubbing her hand. As you have expected from the moment you saw that Nikolai is Sturmhond, he agrees to the insanity of taking up the quest to catch the amplifier.

“Tolya will show you around.” He sends you off. You’re about to follow your friends out of the cuddy when he adds: “You, emerald lady, I’d like to talk to in private.”

Alina gives you a concerned look (‘blink twice if you need help’)  but you only smile and nod at her in response. With Mal tugging at her arm, she reluctantly leaves you and Sturmhond alone.

The moment the door closes behind Tolya and your friends, Nikolai runs around his desk towards you, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand threads through your hair, pushing your head further into the crook of his neck. Even if you tried, there’s no way you can pull away or even move. Taking a deep breath, you smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne but now it’s mixed with the scent of resin, saltwater and seaweed.

Then he pulls away, looking you up and down with burning worry. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

You swear he could be bleeding out on the floor and still he’d be apologizing for staining your clothes. It’s heartwarming that despite the years and evident change in his appearance, Kolya is still Kolya.

A wide smile enters your face. “Looking for a frisky sailor to take me on a voyage filled with indecency, obviously.”

“Well, here he is.” Nikolai points to himself and winks at you. “And he’d really like to know why you’re in Novyi Zem with the Sun Summoner and whats-his-face and not in the Grand Palace in Os Alta.”

You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head gently. “I grew tired, Kolya.” His eyebrows slant upon hearing the exhaustion in your voice. Despite the sheer happiness he feels when you say his name, the concern gnawing at his heart seems to be more powerful. “Years have gone by without you giving me even the tiniest sign that you’re alive and well. And your brother, Saint’s have mercy on him because I won’t, has been adamant about marrying me ever since you left. I told him I will accept his proposal the day he lays your dead body before me.” You make pause, noticing a strange shadow hanging over Nikolai’s face. But he’s not saying anything for a moment, so you finish what you wanted to say: “I had to get away from it all. There’s only so much uncertainty and intruding fingers a lady can take.”

“By the Saints,” he breathes out, “did Vasily lay a hand on you?”

You feel his grip around you tighten but it’s not painful, rather securing. “If you’re asking whether he hit me or forced himself on me, then no, he did not. He did, however, make it abundantly clear what he wants from me. On multiple occasions.”

Nikolai’s face twists in a scowl. The glint that lit up his eyes when he saw you is now gone, exchanged for something dark and unstable. “I’m so sorry, if I knew-”

“I know, love,” you interrupt him. He doesn’t need to announce the ends he’d go to in order to ensure you’re safe and comfortable. Nikolai has never said or done so but you’re fairly convinced he wouldn’t shy away from fistfighting Vasily if he said something less-than-savoury to you. “But neither of us could have known.”

“I promised you’d be safe in Os Alta.”

“And I promised to stay put.” You can’t keep laughter in any longer. You’re not quite sure whether your chuckle is born out of happiness or disbelief. “Now look at us.”

Suddenly, he knits his eyebrows close. At first, you think he’s confused but then the slight rise of his cheeks suggests something closer to contempt or disgust. "Would you actually marry Vasily if he gave you my dead body?"

You can only give him an indifferent shrug. "Maybe?” you ponder aloud. “If you were dead, I would lose all care about what happens to me or with me. In a way, I’d be dead too."

Nikolai takes one of your hands and kisses its fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his warm lips against your skin. “I could never rest in peace knowing how he’s treating you.”

“Having you haunt me would be incomparably better than you just being gone. Everything is better than silence.”

His shoulders slouch. Nikolai looks away from you for a moment, admiring the floor in his cuddy but even this can’t hide his guilt and shame. “I couldn’t have just popped in for a visit. Not anywhere in Ravka.”

"You couldn't even have written me a letter?"

"Someone at the palace would recognize my handwriting. I couldn't risk it."

"Then you could have dictated the letter to one of your crew."

That self-assured, flirty smirk appears again on his face. "And scandalize my crewmen with the things I want to tell you?”

As much as you’ve dearly missed his insufferable humour, at the moment it’s making your skin crawl. “This is a serious conversation, Nikolai,” you state firmly.

“I am serious, солиышко.” The pet name rolls off his tongue with both weight and lightness as though it belongs exclusively to you and no one else can ever claim it as their own. He kisses your hand again but keeps it against his lips for a while longer. Then, he places your fingers on his chest and you can feel the soft thrumming of his heart. “Do you think I never thought about writing to you? That I didn’t stay up at night thinking about what I will tell you when we meet again? Countless letters I have begun only to tear them apart and throw them into the sea or burn them. If some people found out we know each other, you’d be in much greater danger than Darkling following your steps. I’d rather deal with the heartbreak of staying away from you than know I put you in danger because I can’t live without you.”

It brings you a grim sense of comfort that he’s been equally torn as you were over the lack of contact. You never thought about it before but Nikolai must have been worried sick, not knowing whether you’re alright and happy. Has he imagined your plight and misery as often as you did his?

“What did you write in those letters?” you ask in a shaky voice.

“I wrote about how much I miss you, how it physically hurts to consider that you might think I have abandoned you. When I was hungry, cold, tired or sick, only the memories of you made me push on. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the sky above me and wonder whether you’re looking at the same stars. I wrote that wherever I go, I see your face. You are in every sunrise and sunset, every flower I see and every fire that warms me.” Nikolai lets go of your fingers, placing both of his hands on either side of your face. The softness in his eyes makes you swoon. “I only wrote the truth,” he says slowly, making sure you understand the weight of his words.

Swallowing back tears, you lean into his warm touch. “My beloved, my heart yearns for you?” you jest in a dramatic voice.

A playful smile creeps back unto his lips. “If only my heart.”

“Gross.”

“You wanted a frisky sailor.”

"You’re a pirate, not a sailor.”

"I’m a privateer,” he drones out the word as though it makes a world of a difference.

"Pirate sounds sexier."

Nikolai gives you a fake frown. “Oh, I definitely am a pirate."

Without thinking twice, he’s kissing you. The sensation is just as comforting as you remember. His soft lips are doting on you, growing needier with each peck as though this is some feverish attempt at making up the lost time. 

He pulls away to catch his breath and although you’re panting yourself, you unknowingly chase after him, unwilling to dismiss this carnal desire just yet. Nikolai seems to notice your eagerness - he flashes you a cocky grin and shortly pecks your lips again.

“You crossed Ravka, the Fold and the sea just to find me?” he whispers. His eyes are stuck to your wet, swollen mouth.

“And I’d do it a hundred more times if I had to.”

You exchange a few more hungry kisses, pecking and nipping at each other’s lips, before Nikolai continues the conversation:

“I want to say that I’m flattered but I’d rather not encourage you to do something this stupid and dangerous ever again.”

“Hate to break it to you but you took all the stupid with you.”

He rests his forehead against yours; hot, laboured breaths brush against your flushed cheeks. “I’d like to clarify that I’m not stupid, I just can’t seem to think about anything other than you.”

Nikolai wraps his arms around your waist. In a swift motion, he turns you around and pushes you against the edge of his desk. His strength surprises you when Nikolai effortlessly lifts you and places you atop the table, pushing off maps and navigation essentials. Firm, warm hands are restlessly wandering across your body, unsure where to lay or what to grab.

You gasp quietly when his fingers sneak underneath your shirt. “Is this the indecent part of the voyage, my frisky sailor?”

“By the Saints, I hope so,” he whispers against your lips. Then, he furrows his eyebrows questioningly. “Is that offensive to say around a living Saint?”

“I don’t think Alina heard you.”

His nimble fingers are quickly undoing the buttons on your clothes. “Well, she will hear you in a moment.”

“Gross,” you say with laughter in your voice but the word gets muffled as Nikolai gets back to kissing you again.

Even if the crew did hear you that day, no one dared say a word.

зайка [zay-ka] - bunny (feminine; term of endearment)

солиышко [sol-nee-shko] - little sun (unisex; term of endearment)

[faithshouseofchaos]

Could you make a lando norris x male reader/oc (maybe its a oneshot or more you decide) where lando has been in love with his best friend since they were in dipers and lando is just obsessed over reader when their not there(ex. Their always what he talks about, always staring at pictures of him and getting supremely angry when anyone talk bad about male reader), and when male reader is there it's like he's high and he always has to be touching you (he could even secretly touching in areas hes not suppose to but male reader is just used to it because he's done it so many times in the past that he doesnt see anything wrong), the other drivers get concerned when lando that you have a crush on someone on the grid (not knowing its him because male reader is equally as obsessed as he is but just hides it way better) and as reader is mclarens media admin, actor and occasional song writer their both too infatuated with each other that the other drivers have to force them to tell each other so lando doesnt hurt anyone on the track.

This has sat in my inbox for a long time 💀 it’s not exactly what you want but I am writing something for male!reader and Lando getting high together 🤭🤭.

Also im definitely going to be writing blurbs for them.

I’ve always been yours — Lando Norris x male!reader

Word count— 990

Warnings — slight jealous Lando and possessive Lando slightly angsty

It had been a long day at the paddock, but that didn’t stop Lando from keeping you within arm’s reach at all times. He was more touchy than usual, his hand constantly finding your shoulder, his fingers brushing your arm or neck every few minutes. It was subtle—probably no one else noticed—but for you, it was impossible to ignore.

Lando had always been possessive, sure, but this was something else. The look in his eyes, the way he practically bristled whenever anyone else took your attention… you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“So, any plans tonight?” Carlos asked, nudging you as you finished up with a few media notes. “A group of us are heading to dinner if you’re interested.”

Before you could respond, Lando’s arm slid over your shoulders, pulling you just a bit closer than necessary. “Actually, he’s busy,” Lando said, not even bothering to look at Carlos.

You blinked, glancing up at him. “I am?”

Lando shot you a quick, sideways look, and you caught the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. “Yeah. We’re grabbing dinner together. Already planned it.” He said it with such confidence that you had to stop yourself from laughing. But his hand lingered on your shoulder, his fingers flexing slightly, and something in the way he held onto you made you decide not to argue.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you with a smirk. “Ohhh, alright then,” he said, winking before heading off.

The second Carlos was out of earshot, you turned to Lando, arching an eyebrow. “Did we actually have dinner plans?”

“We do now,” he replied simply, not loosening his grip on you. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Carlos? He’s just being friendly. It’s not like that.”

Lando’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Don’t care. Don’t want him looking at you like that.”

You knew he could be intense sometimes, but this was new. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or ask him what was going on, but the fierce glint in his eyes made you hold your tongue. Besides, a small part of you didn’t mind—Lando’s possessiveness felt good, like he was claiming you in ways he hadn’t before.

Later, after the debrief, you ended up in his hotel room, sharing takeout on the bed as you usually did. Lando’s leg pressed against yours as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Hey, uh…” He looked away, fidgeting slightly. “Have you… ever thought about someone on the grid? Like, actually thought about them that way?”

You paused mid-bite, caught off guard. “Someone on the grid? What’s with the random question?”

He shrugged, eyes fixed on his food. “Just… curious. I’ve heard people talk about you. Heard you might have a thing for someone.”

You narrowed your eyes, laughing a bit. “And you believed them? Please, Lando. You know how people talk around here. They just like to gossip.”

“Still. It’s not funny.” His tone was firm, more serious than you were used to. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were filled with something intense, a possessive glint that sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they have a chance with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by the bluntness. “Lando, why do you care so much?”

For a moment, he seemed to consider backing off, but then he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. “Because you’re mine.” The words were soft, barely more than a whisper, but they were filled with a raw, undeniable certainty that made your heart race.

Your breath caught, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “Yours?”

He nodded, his hand reaching out to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. “Always been mine. Don’t want anyone else even thinking about you that way. Can’t stand it.”

A part of you wanted to push back, to tease him for being so intense, but the way he was looking at you, the heat in his eyes, made any words die on your lips. Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your heart pounding as you let yourself feel the full weight of his words.

“Lando… you’ve never said anything like this before,” you murmured.

His grip tightened, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “Because I thought you’d think I was crazy. But then today, hearing those rumors—” He shook his head, his jaw clenched. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always been you.”

Your chest felt tight, your heart swelling with a mix of disbelief and relief. You’d known him forever, but hearing it out loud, feeling the intensity in his voice… it was almost too much.

“You could’ve said something sooner,” you whispered, barely able to keep the smile off your face. “Would’ve saved us both a lot of time.”

Lando’s face broke into a grin, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss—deep, intense, filled with years of unspoken feelings. When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go, his hand still tangled in your hair as he whispered, “Just so we’re clear—no one else gets to have you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your own possessiveness finally breaking free as you wrapped your arms around him. “Good. Because I don’t want anyone else either.”

The next day at the paddock, Lando was practically glued to your side, his arm around your shoulders, hand possessively gripping yours whenever you had a spare moment. The other drivers noticed, casting curious glances, but Lando didn’t seem to care. He was too busy keeping you close, his every glance and touch a reminder to anyone who looked that you were his.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

[novaursa]

The Games We Play (simple things)

- Summary: The dragon catches Otto’s attention, and he decides to charm you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: persevere

- Next part: adamant

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Otto was passing through the hall of the Red Keep when he spotted you at a window, looking out over the twinkling lights of King’s Landing below.

After a moment’s hesitation, he approached, clearing his throat softly. “Princess Y/N,” he greeted, his voice as smooth and collected as ever. “A fine evening, isn’t it?”

You turned to him, a slight smile playing on your lips. “It is, Lord Otto.”

He shifted his weight, almost awkwardly—a rare sight from the usually unflappable Otto Hightower. “I was wondering if… perhaps you might like to, ah… spend some time together this evening. Talk, perhaps?”

To his evident surprise, you considered his offer for a brief moment before nodding. “Alright, Otto.”

Otto blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You… you’d like to?”

You shrugged with a hint of amusement, glancing out the window. “Why not? The evening is young, and I could use a little distraction.”

Otto took a steadying breath, obviously trying not to let his excitement show too blatantly. “Very well, Princess. Is there… somewhere you’d like to go? A place you enjoy?”

You turned to him, an intrigued gleam in your eye. “Yes, actually. There is.”

Otto smiled, clearly already forming visions of a quiet library alcove or a secluded garden where he could charm you with his best courtly conversation. “Wherever you wish, Princess.”

With a grin, you reached out, taking his arm and leading him toward the stairwell. “Good. Then let’s go.”

As the two of you descended the stairs, Otto continued to follow you, anticipation in his step. He hadn’t expected this turn of events, and his mind was racing with possibilities. But the excitement soon turned to mild confusion when you continued past the gardens, past the library doors, and right out of the Red Keep’s main gates, heading toward the city.

“Princess…” Otto began, glancing around with a faint frown as you moved purposefully through the crowd of merchants and townsfolk on their evening errands. “Are we… going into King’s Landing?”

You shot him a mischievous look. “Yes, Lord Otto. Where else?”

Otto tried to keep his composure, but his shoulders visibly tensed. “Are you quite certain? The streets can be… a bit unpredictable this time of night.”

You laughed, clearly delighted by his nervousness. “Is that fear I hear, my lord? I thought you were the steadfast Hand of the King.”

He cleared his throat, his expression a delicate blend of pride and caution. “It’s not fear, Princess. Simply… awareness. The city is not exactly a place for royalty to wander without a plan.”

“Oh, I have a plan,” you replied breezily, ignoring his clear apprehension as you led him further into the heart of King’s Landing. The sounds of laughter, shouting, and lively music filled the air as you passed a bustling tavern, and you waved politely to a few surprised merchants who recognized you.

Otto glanced nervously at the tavern door as a particularly loud burst of laughter erupted from within, his jaw tightening. “Princess, perhaps we could—”

But you were already moving, navigating the maze-like streets with ease. Otto followed, his eyes darting around as though anticipating trouble to spring out at any moment. He cast a wary glance at a group of rowdy men singing loudly down the street and, with visible effort, kept himself from grabbing your arm to steer you in a different direction.

After a few more turns, Otto finally cleared his throat, his voice lower and more urgent. “Princess… I must advise that we head back to the Red Keep. The city can be rather… unforgiving at night.”

You looked back at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, come now, Otto. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Otto opened his mouth, clearly wrestling with his next words, as if he wanted to admit that adventure was the last thing he was hoping for tonight. “My sense of… adventure is quite intact, I assure you. I simply believe that certain precautions should be… exercised.”

You laughed, tugging him along as you led him even deeper into the city. “Oh, I think you’ll survive, my lord.”

But despite his best efforts to appear calm, Otto’s eyes were darting left and right as he followed you, a faint sheen of worry creeping into his expression. He muttered something under his breath, and you could’ve sworn you heard him quietly mumbling something about “unnecessary risks” and “courtly dignity.”

And as you turned another corner, Otto fell silent, a distinct look of panic flashing in his eyes as he realized you were guiding him straight toward Flea Bottom.

By now, you couldn’t hide your amusement at his unease. You kept leading him onward, his discomfort only adding to your own enjoyment of the evening.

With every step, Otto grew quieter, his face set with a carefully controlled calm as he marched along beside you. But internally, he was starting to panic. Seven hells, he thought, if anyone sees us here, the scandal will be unmanageable.

But you only smiled at him, as if you knew exactly what he was thinking.

As you and Otto made your way deeper into the winding streets of King’s Landing, his discomfort grew more visible with every step. He kept glancing over his shoulder, his hand twitching as though longing for a parchment or quill—anything that might remind him of the order and decorum of the Red Keep.

Then, around the next corner, you almost collided with a familiar, smirking figure leaning against a lamppost, arms folded and eyebrows raised in delight. Daemon. His violet eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the sight of the famously proper Otto Hightower trailing behind you like a nervous, disoriented cat.

“Well, well,” Daemon drawled, barely able to contain his laughter. “I never thought I’d live to see the day—Lord Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, out for a midnight stroll… in Flea Bottom.”

Otto straightened, the surprise clear on his face as he quickly tried to regain his dignity. “Prince Daemon,” he greeted stiffly, but Daemon only grinned wider.

“Oh, don’t ‘Prince Daemon’ me, Otto. What brings you here? Following my sister on one of her little… adventures, I see?”

You smirked, folding your arms as you watched the two of them. “You make it sound like I dragged him here, Daemon.”

Daemon tilted his head, looking Otto up and down with a mischievous glint. “Honestly, Y/N, I’m impressed he made it this far without fainting. You do know this man has probably never walked outside the Red Keep without his little entourage of guards.”

Otto cleared his throat, straightening his spine in an effort to hold onto the last shreds of his dignity. “I assure you, Prince Daemon, I am more than capable of navigating the city without an escort.”

Daemon laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, you think so, do you?” He stepped closer to Otto, eyeing him with a challenging smile. “Then prove it. Keep up with her.” He jerked his chin toward you. “And stop looking like you’re about to dash off to write a report on every street vendor you pass.”

Otto visibly bristled, his face tightening in determination. “I am more than capable of accompanying the princess wherever she wishes to go.”

Daemon snorted, clapping a hand on Otto’s shoulder, much to the older man’s discomfort. “If you can’t keep up, Hightower, then perhaps you aren’t worthy of a Targaryen at all.”

Otto’s jaw clenched, and he squared his shoulders, clearly not about to let Daemon have the last word. “I assure you, Prince Daemon, I am perfectly capable of… keeping up.”

You grinned, sensing Otto’s resolve harden under Daemon’s scrutiny. “Well then, if you’re both so determined, let’s see who’s really up for it.”

You turned, gesturing down a narrow, bustling street filled with vendors, musicians, and all manner of questionable characters. “Let’s keep moving, gentlemen.”

With that, you strode forward, Otto following closely behind, his face set in a steely mask of determination. Daemon fell into step beside him, clearly enjoying the chance to watch the notoriously proper Otto navigate the chaos of the city.

As you made your way through the crowd, a group of children ran past, nearly colliding with Otto, who only barely managed to dodge them. Daemon laughed heartily, slapping Otto on the back. “Careful, Otto! Don’t want to get dirt on that nice, pristine cloak of yours.”

Otto forced a smile, though his discomfort was obvious. “I am perfectly fine, Prince Daemon. A little… grit won’t bother me.”

“Oh, really?” Daemon smirked, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a nearby tavern with rowdy patrons spilling out into the street. “Then let’s take a little detour.”

Without waiting for a response, Daemon led the way into the tavern, and you followed, giving Otto an encouraging smile over your shoulder. With a determined set to his jaw, Otto stepped inside, clearly doing his best to prove his worth.

The tavern was packed, the air thick with laughter, spilled ale, and the sound of someone playing a badly-tuned lute in the corner. A few patrons shot curious looks your way, clearly intrigued by the sight of two Targaryens and the Hand of the King among them.

Daemon, grinning from ear to ear, leaned over the bar and ordered three drinks, slapping them down on the counter. He pushed one toward Otto, raising his own in a mock toast. “To Lord Otto Hightower—the bravest man in the realm tonight.”

Otto eyed the tankard with a wary expression, but with Daemon’s expectant grin and your amused smile watching him, he had little choice. He lifted the drink, giving a brisk nod. “To… the evening.”

He took a tentative sip, his face twitching slightly at the taste, but he managed to keep his expression neutral, much to Daemon’s disappointment.

“Oh, come now, Otto,” Daemon chided, draining his tankard in one gulp. “Surely the king’s Hand can do better than a polite sip?”

Otto sighed but raised the tankard again, taking a larger swallow this time. The bitterness seemed to surprise him, but he forced it down, coughing slightly as he set the tankard back on the bar.

You laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Not bad, Otto. I didn’t think you’d even make it through one sip.”

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, clearly determined to maintain what remained of his dignity. “I am not as… delicate as some may think.”

Daemon burst into laughter, leaning on the bar as he watched Otto struggle to keep his composure. “Well, well! Maybe there’s some fire in the Hand after all.”

Just then, a loud group of sailors burst into a lively song nearby, and a few of them began dancing, pulling random patrons into the mix. One particularly eager sailor grabbed your hand, spinning you into the crowd, and you laughed, going along with the impromptu dance.

Otto’s eyes widened, clearly alarmed as he watched you disappear into the sea of twirling figures. But before he could react, Daemon nudged him hard. “Go on, Hightower. Don’t lose her now. You said you could keep up.”

With a resigned sigh, Otto squared his shoulders and plunged into the fray, awkwardly navigating the chaotic dance floor as he tried to make his way to you. Every few steps, someone bumped into him, sending his cloak askew, and his careful strides quickly turned into unsteady shuffles as he dodged dancers left and right.

Finally, he reached you, his face slightly flushed from the effort. “Princess,” he managed, a bit breathless, “perhaps we should… consider returning to the Keep.”

You grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Not yet, Lord Otto. We’re just getting started.”

Before he could protest, you took his hand and spun him into the dance. He stumbled slightly, his eyes wide as he struggled to keep up with the unfamiliar rhythm, but he held his ground, his grip firm as he attempted to match your movements.

Daemon watched from the bar, arms folded and a delighted grin plastered across his face as he observed the sight of the usually composed Hand of the King dancing—if it could be called that—in the heart of a rowdy tavern. “Well, Otto,” he called, lifting his empty tankard in salute, “looks like you might just be one of us yet.”

Otto shot him a look, part exasperation, part determination. He turned back to you, finally allowing himself a small, genuine smile as he managed to match the rhythm—if only for a moment.

You laughed, squeezing his hand as the dance continued, leading him through the lively crowd. He still looked slightly panicked, but there was a spark in his eyes now, a flicker of something that even Daemon had to admit looked a bit like… excitement.

And as the music swelled, you wondered if perhaps, for the first time, Otto Hightower was beginning to enjoy himself—just a little.

As the first hints of dawn crept over the horizon, you, Daemon, and Otto trudged back toward the Red Keep, moving a little slower and perhaps a bit more rumpled than usual. Flea Bottom had certainly left its mark—the faint smell of ale clung to Otto’s cloak, and Daemon looked as if he’d never had more fun in his life. As for you, you were simply trying to keep a straight face as Otto held his head high, doing his best to pretend that the entire adventure hadn’t taken at least a decade off his life.

At the entrance to the Keep, you paused, turning to Otto with a grin. “Thank you for tonight, Lord Otto. I… actually had a wonderful time.”

Otto blinked, surprise flitting across his face, but he quickly regained his composure, offering a dignified nod. “It was… my pleasure, Princess.”

“Goodnight, then,” you said, though you gave a small laugh. “Or… I suppose it’s ‘good morning.’”

With a last smile, you bid farewell to Daemon and Otto, gliding off down the hall, clearly quite pleased with how the evening—or morning—had turned out.

As your footsteps faded, Daemon turned to Otto, an amused yet slightly impressed look in his eye. “Well, Hightower,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway, “I didn’t think you had it in you to survive a night in Flea Bottom. I’ll give you that.”

Otto straightened his cloak, trying to smooth over the visible wrinkles as if that would somehow restore his dignity. “Your confidence in me has always been… appreciated, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon chuckled, his grin turning slightly sharp. “Don’t get too comfortable. Just because you managed to stay by her side for a night doesn’t mean you’re suited to her.”

Otto’s expression tightened, his gaze steady. “I would never presume otherwise. But the princess deserves someone who respects her, who values her for more than her title.”

Daemon’s grin faded, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Respect, is it? Then respect this, Hightower—I’m not your friend, and I won’t hesitate to remind you of that if you overstep.”

Otto met Daemon’s gaze without flinching. “I don’t expect us to be friends, Prince Daemon. But I believe we both want the same thing—for the princess to be happy.”

Daemon gave a low chuckle, pushing off the doorway. “Just remember that if you break her heart—or her spirit—I’ll break every bone in your body.”

Otto’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded, accepting the unspoken terms. “Understood.”

With one last glare, Daemon turned, heading in the direction of his chambers, though his lips quirked slightly in what might have been a grudging respect. “Good night, Hightower. Try not to get lost on your way to the council chambers.”

As Daemon’s footsteps echoed down the hall, Otto allowed himself a rare, small smile, feeling both exhausted and—perhaps for the first time—triumphant.

At least for now, he had survived.

The council chamber was already filling with the usual early-morning murmurs when Otto Hightower entered, looking… well, uncharacteristically disheveled. His usually pristine cloak was rumpled, his eyes had faint circles beneath them, and there was a faint trace of what might have been ale on his collar. To make matters more shocking, Otto, the ever-composed, razor-focused Hand, looked almost relaxed.

The councilors exchanged wide-eyed glances, each more shocked than the last as Otto took his seat, nodding at each of them with an almost—dare they say—cheerful expression. Tyland Lannister was the first to recover, but his smirk was unmistakable.

“Well, well, Lord Otto,” Tyland drawled, leaning back with an amused gleam in his eye. “You’re looking… shall we say, unusually lively this morning?”

Otto cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, though even he couldn’t disguise the way his eyes drooped slightly. “I assure you, Lord Tyland, I am fully prepared to attend to the matters at hand.”

At that, Maester Mellos leaned forward, squinting as he peered at Otto with a mixture of suspicion and concern. “Are you quite well, Lord Hightower? You seem… a bit out of sorts?”

Otto waved a hand, dismissing the concern. “Quite well, Maester. Merely a… busy night. Nothing more.”

At the head of the table, Viserys looked his friend up and down, his brow furrowed with disbelief. “Otto… busy night?” he repeated, as though the concept was too bizarre to even comprehend. “Are we talking about the same Otto Hightower who retires to his quarters at sunset with council reports for company?”

Otto managed a dignified nod, though his eyes glazed slightly as Beesbury began rambling about the latest shipment of grain from the Reach. “Indeed, Your Grace. I found myself… otherwise engaged.”

Jasper Wylde, who had been silently observing, leaned forward, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Otherwise engaged? And may we ask… in what?”

Otto paused, carefully weighing his response. “A matter involving Princess Y/N. She, ah… sought my company in the city.” He said this with an air of complete professionalism, as if discussing the grain shipment with Beesbury.

The room fell silent, and everyone’s heads turned slowly toward him, expressions ranging from shock to open-mouthed astonishment.

Princess Y/N? In the city? With Otto?

Lyonel Strong’s eyes widened, and he quickly tried to mask his surprise, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “The city, you say? Well, that would explain the, ah… slight rumpling.”

Otto shifted, doing his best to straighten his cloak. “Yes, well, Flea Bottom is hardly the most… pristine of environments.”

Tyland snickered, glancing at Viserys. “Perhaps we’ve underestimated the good Hand here. Who knew he had the spirit to roam the city under starlight?”

Viserys chuckled, still studying Otto with a mix of disbelief and admiration. “I must admit, Otto, I didn’t expect you to join Y/N on one of her wild escapades. I half expected you’d be too… responsible to humor her.”

Otto cleared his throat again, struggling to maintain his typical gravitas. “Sometimes, Your Grace, one must be adaptable. And I have every faith in the princess’s judgment.”

At this, Mellos raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Adaptability… yes. Ahem, but Lord Otto, you do appear somewhat… affected by your night out.”

For a brief moment, Otto’s eyelids drooped, and he blinked, refocusing his attention with an effort. “Rest assured, Maester Mellos, I am more than capable of conducting my duties.”

But as Beesbury launched into another lengthy update on the grain crisis, Otto’s attention began to drift, his mind wandering back to the chaotic streets of Flea Bottom, the music, the laughter, the dancing—an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. It was unlike any night he’d had in years, and the strange feeling of ease, even excitement, lingered, almost throwing him off balance.

Jasper Wylde coughed, drawing Otto’s wandering attention back to the table. “Lord Otto,” he said, hiding a grin, “I believe Lord Beesbury had a question for you regarding the taxation rates on incoming shipments.”

Otto blinked, doing his best to focus. “Ah, yes, of course. Taxation…” He cleared his throat, frantically trying to remember the previous discussion, but all he could think of was Daemon’s mischievous grin and the crowd of dancers sweeping him along in a tavern.

Viserys snorted, clearly trying not to laugh as he watched Otto struggle to keep his mind on the task at hand. “Otto, I’m afraid a night out may have done something to you.”

Otto’s jaw tightened, and he mustered every ounce of his concentration to respond. “I assure you, Your Grace, I am as dedicated as ever to the realm.”

Tyland chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Well, perhaps the Hand should take more nights off. Seems he’s… loosened up a bit. Makes him almost likable.”

Otto shot Tyland a withering look, though his face softened with the faintest smile, still feeling oddly content despite his exhaustion. “Thank you, Lord Tyland. Your… insight is noted.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, unable to hide his grin. “Well, whatever happened last night, Otto, it seems to agree with you. Perhaps it’s time we all considered such… outings more often.”

Otto resisted the urge to roll his eyes, giving a dignified nod instead. “I shall keep that in mind, Your Grace.”

As the council resumed their discussions, Otto took a deep breath, steadying himself. Despite the lingering exhaustion, he felt strangely at ease��a warmth he hadn’t experienced in years. And though he knew this was likely to earn him more jests from the council, a small, contented smile lingered on his face.

For once, Otto Hightower felt… alive.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Brick by Brick 🎄

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: The holiday season is upon us!!! This is the first fic for my Christmas event, Fi's Christmas Market ☃️ <3 feel free to check that out if you're curious who and what's to come 🤭

~ Fi 🐝

Warnings: pure, whole hearted X-mas fluff, Mentions of readers mom, healing Leon's inner child <3

Word count: 2.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

December was finally here. The most wonderful time of the year, undoubtedly. You'd been waiting all year for this. The lights, the beautiful tunes, and the atmosphere full of love and warmth. To say you were ecstatic was an understatement, the excitement had been burning in your veins since Halloween ended.

You were itching to pull out every box filled with Christmas decorations and absolutely drown your apartment in red, green and gold. Your Christmas PJs were already laid out, same as Leon's, and you'd jump him with holiday cheer the second he came home. You'd already prepared some apple cider and a few cookies. It would be such a nice evening, you knew it in your heart.

The Christmas songs would fill your apartment, the spicy apple cider and cookies would drench the room in nostalgic aromas. You'd decorate all the cabinets and tables while Leon would hang up the garlands around the living room. It was always a dream you had, decorating your little home with Leon. And since it was you we're talking about, you also got him a little something. An early present, if you will.

There was this tradition in your home, your Mother had started it one year and from then on it was something you'd enjoyed greatly. It might not be the most festive of activities but it reminded you of home, and you desperately wanted to share it with Leon. Your Mom made a habit of building Lego sets together as a family. Sitting around the table with a cup of cider, yuletide tunes playing in the background whil you were constructing your little plastic house brick by brick.

You were a little hesitant to share it with your lover since the anxiety of it being seen as childish always gnawed at your heart. But you knew him, he wouldn't judge you for something like that. He would appreciate that you wanted to share a part of your childhood with him, you were sure of it. You had gotten yourself a gingerbread house set, it was better than a real one in many ways; more fun to make, sturdier and there was no mess after.

But what you were really excited about was for Leon to see the set you had gotten him. It was a police station. As soon as your eyes landed on the set while you were scrolling through the internet, you knew it was perfect. You had warned him about a surprise so he wouldn't be caught off guard.

Your mother had an entire village of Lego houses that she'd rebuilt every year, and you couldn't wait to start your own little village with Leon. He was actually quite impressed when your mom proudly showed him last Christmas. He didn't stop talking about it for weeks after, it was quite endearing. If you could heal his inner child at least a little with this, it would be worth it.

You'd already changed into your PJs. You would've exploded if you hadn't gotten something plaid on your body. It was a long sleeve shirt with gingerbread men and women doing holiday activities. Ice skating, shopping, building a snowman. Your name was embroided in gold on the front.

The pants were a red and gold plaid, matching the embroided. It was a gift from your grandmother. She adored Leon and said that when she saw the matching sleep attire, she just had to get it. It was him who made sure they were always ready when Decemeber was around the corner.

Even if he wouldn't admit it, there was something about the holidays that made him lower his guard and just be himself. Not a rookie, not agent Kennedy, just Leon.

The jingling of keys made you jump up from your place at the table where you had been waiting patiently. Leon stepped inside with a huff, closing the door behind him. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold as he dropped his bag on the floor.

"Hi, Baby-" he was cut off by a grunt when you smashed into him, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug. "I missed you." Your words were muffled into his chest. He chuckled before leaning down to press a kiss to your head. "I missed you too, but I was only gone for 3 days." He stroked his hands down your back. "I know, I know, but it's extra special this time! We have lots to do, come on." You beamed, making him stumble as you dragged him behind you.

"Slow down, we've got all evening." He chuckled, still letting himself be pulled along by you.

You and Leon stood in the middle of the living room, admiring your work. The space was much cozier now, decked with and lights and ornaments. "We really outdid ourselves this year, huh?"

"But we need to decorate, and we have to make a shopping list for presents too, and then I have a surprise for you, and-" You stopped yourself. Leon had just come home, and you were already bombarding him with all the things you wanted to do. You cleared your throat, a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I've just been waiting all year for this." You gave him a bashful smile. Leon cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. All of your worries faded away. The chains of anxiety and embarrassment shattered the second you felt his touch.

"Don't be sorry. You're cute when you're all excited, you know." He teased, taking off his jacket and shoes. A blush settled on your cheeks. "Your PJs are on the bed, I'll heat up the apple cider, okay?" He nodded with a soft hum and you pressed a kiss to his still cold cheek.

You squealed in excitement when you thought Leon was out of reach to hear you, but you were wrong. He smiled to himself when he saw you being so happy over something so simple. He loved you so much, you made his life brighter.

The Christmas songs were already on, and you were stirring the apple cider while humming to the melody. "What's this surprise I've been hearing about, hm?" Two big arms engulfed you, wrapping themselves around your waist. You swayed from side to side, pulling him with you. You poured the cider into some very cheesy Christmas mugs and set them down on the coffee table.

"Decorating first, then you'll get your surprise, Baby." You smiled, kneeling on the floor to start unpacking the boxes. "I can't believe you're making me wait. You've been excited about this surprise for months!" He argued playfully, of course. "Shut it and come help me with the garlands, big guy!" You huffed. You weren't tall enough to hang them up yourself, but you had your tall and strong boyfriend who would do anything for you.

And the little perk of watching his shirt ride up and his biceps flex definitely didn't go unappreciated. "S'not my fault you came out so small." He grinned, ruffling your hair as he passed you. You pouted and continued getting out all of your decor from the boxes while quietly grumbling. Maybe he's just unnaturally tall?! You're not small, you're perfectly average height! Okay, maybe you were on the low end of the spectrum, but still. To be fair, those garlands have never been up faster.

Not to shabby, having a tree for a boyfriend.

"Time for the present!" You exclaimed, already dragging him back to the table. You were quiet strong for your height, you've almost knocked him off of his feet once or twice.

You glanced over to Leon who had you pressed against his side. "Yeah, but's gonna be a pain to take down.." he sighed.

"Let me enjoy my Christmas craze, will ya?" You huffed. Leon put his hands up defensively and laughed.

"Alright, alright."

You refilled the apple cider and then went to grab the surprise. You brought out the big box and Leon's brows raised both in shock and curiosity. You heaved it onto the table before taking a seat next to him.

"Christ, Honey, what's in that thing? You do know it's not Christmas yet, right?" Leon chuckled, turning the box in all directions. "Obviously. But I really wanted to get you this. Besides, can't I get my boyfriend presents regardless of the time of year?" You smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He looked over at you with a buttery soft expression.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice." You grinned, before returning a soft smile. "Go ahead, open it." You encouraged him. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. You really hoped he liked it. It was a bit of a risky situation since you were worried it might open an old wound. He tore into the festive wrapping paper, revealing the gift inch by inch.

You were slightly squirming in your seat, both from anxiety and excitement. He examined the now revealed surprise. His brows furrowed but you saw the exact moment it clicked in his brain when he realized what it was. His eyes lit up like the ones of a little boy on Christmas morning, and a smile tugged at his lips.

Leon looked over to you and you caught the smallest glimpse of a shimmer of tears in his beautiful blue eyes. "Baby, I.. Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me- you have no idea how much that means to me." He said it with so much vulnerability and love that you felt like your heart was about to give out.

"Why wouldn't I share it with you? You're my favorite person. Let me tell you, my mom was thrilled when she heard about this." You chuckled, making him snort in response. His expression softened slightly, taking your hands and guiding you from your chair into his lap.

His hands wrapped around you tightly as his head fell to the crook of your neck. "I love you. You're truly something special and I don't intend of ever letting you go." His heartfelt confession sent shivers up your spine, yet your heart has never felt warmer. Your grip around his neck tightened as you pulled him closer to your chest.

"Oh, Leon.." there was a slight crack in your voice that you had tried so hard to suppress but failed. "I love you so much. You deserve the world and so much more." You whispered into his ear lovingly, you could feel him smile against your skin. You held eachother, wrapped in a warm and loving embrace a hallmark movie could only wish of replicating.

He felt safe with you. You were his great love, his home, the keeper of his heart. He meant every word when he said he won't ever let you go.

"Please don't say that."

You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep in his comforting embrace, so you decided that now was the perfect time to pull yourself from his arms. You were dead set on putting some plastic bricks together today, and if you regrettably had to leave your lovers embrace for it, so be it.

"You wanna get started on building that thing?" You grinned, leaning back so you could see his face. "Hell yeah, I do. Let's get bricking."

You were impressed with him, though. He had never done it before but it came to him so easily. "Well, I'm very good with my hands, as you know." He smirked, giving you wink before continuing to attach the blocks to eachother. "Can't argue with the truth, I suppose." You mumbled, setting a brick on top of another.

Leon had gotten the hang of it pretty quickly. Although it might be a rather simple concept, you've seen great men fall to the tiny plastic pieces (your dad). Leon was quite the natural. It felt like in the blink of an eye, he had constructed half of the building.

"How are you so fast?! That's like half of it done!" You were sitting there with your sad little gingerbread foundation done, and he was putting up walls and furniture already.

Leon didn't know how he ended up in this situation. He had just placed the last block on his very own Lego police station. He looked over his work triumphantly, but when his gaze fell on you, he made an effort to look outside the window.

You were knocked out cold, softly snoring by his side. Your brick gingerbread house wasn't finished, the blocks were thrown across the table, and you were in the middle of it, looking as beautiful as ever to him.

But what scared him, though, was that the sun was starting to come up. He hadn't noticed how late, or early, it had gotten. He had gotten so lost in this simple pleasure it made him smile a bit. Leon couldn't help but think as he carried you to bed, to finally snuggle up and let his body rest.

You had stayed with him. The whole night you had stayed. You didn't leave when your eyelids got heavy or the intervals between your yawns got shorter. You stayed, and watched him with a smile. He realized that he wanted this with you. A life with you, one that he would spend with you until the very end.

You were definitely getting promoted from girlfriend to wife next year. It made him realize what love could and should be like. He never thought it was in the cards for him, truly. But he couldn't be more grateful to and for you. He wanted to build a future with you.

And he would, brick by brick.

[yuusishi]

Hello, I hope you're having a great week. Could I request Vil, Malleus, and Leona being carried bridal-style by their tiny yet powerful s/o?

. . . TINY MENACE

pairings : Vil Schoenheit , Malleus Draconia , Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader (sep.)

genre : fluff , established relationship

cws/tws : student insults Reader in Vil's part but no actual insults are written

a/n : the third years are my sillies

Vil Schoenheit !!

Complains the entire time v1.

You two were in an argument with a student that was constantly throwing insults at you.

Usually Vil would make you ignore that student and continue walking, but that student just kept throwing hurtful words at you. Ones that basically demanded Vil's attention.

It was a back and forth between him and the student, they hurled multiple insults at you while Vil smartly countered them.

It was getting tiring for you.

You had the strength, so why don't you just lift your boyfriend and go somewhere else to cool off? And that you did.

Vil's face morphed from his usual neutral face to surprised as he felt his feet lift off the ground, the student stepping back in surprise as well.

"I'm getting too tired to deal with this! Bye!" you yelled.

Be ready to hear a lot of "Dear, set me down" "What a bold potato you are, now, set me down before anyone sees"

Nothing threatening, but you can definitely hear the panic in his voice.

And don't worry about the student, they won't bother you now after seeing your strength and no one will believe them when they say that you lifted Vil Schoenheit.

Malleus Draconia !!

To be honest, if you're able to lift Malleus Draconia while being way shorter than him, I'd be terrified of you.

You were both sitting in bed when you started a joke argument, this was one of the few times Malleus joined you in this.

"Stop making fun of my height before I throw you across the room" "My, wouldn't that be quite the spectacle"

Sitting up on the bed, Malleus stared at you curiously before you put your hands under his back and knees and easily lifted the nearly seven foot fae prince.

You didn't throw him across the room, of course.

Malleus would be lying if he said he didn't feel surprised at first, instinctively putting his hand on your shoulder for support. He didn't feel scared, though, he knew you would never harm him.

He just looked extremely babygirl at the entire thing.

He'd be surprised when you finally set him back down. He knew you were stronger than an average human even with your height, but this is the only time he experienced it.

Mal would be laying completely still in the bed for a few seconds to take in what just happened, not being used to just randomly getting picked off where he was laying.

(But really, who is).

It was a thrilling experience for him, surprise and thrill are emotions that he rarely gets to feel due to him either just being at NRC or in Briar Valley. Only getting to really go out into the world when impromptu trips like when they visited the Scalding Sands happen and on field trips.

Strangely enough, he liked that you made him experience a rather foreign emotion, even if he did get caught off guard like that. Just make sure not to pull this when Silver and Sebek are nearby.

Leona Kingscholar !!

Complains the entire time v2.

The teachers (mainly Professor Trein and Crewel) were starting to get annoyed that Leona wasn't attending classes yet again, they knew that you were close with him and that's how forcing fetching Leona to classes went from Ruggie's job to yours.

You knew he'd either be at the dorms or the botanical garden, so you tried your luck in the botanical garden first. Luck was on your side today for you found him on your first try, now getting Leona to come with you was the true test of luck.

Leona was definitely more biased towards you, that's undeniably obvious, but forcing him to wake up was something that even you had difficulty in doing.

You poked at the beastman and even pushed him a couple times, but he wouldn't budge, he remained deep asleep on the cold floor.

That's when you got an idea.

Leona's eyes shot open when he felt himself get lifted off the cool floor. He almost pushed whoever had the audacity to not only wake him up, but to also pick him up like a baby if he didn't recognize your scent.

"Oi Herbivore, what do you think you're doing" "I'm getting tired of the professors nagging me to pick you up, so why don't I just do just that".

He found it funny at first, that you were able to pick him up like he had featherlight weight despite your size.

Then the complaining came when you refused to let him down until you got to the classroom (even if he didn't even attempt to get down himself).

"Just put me down already" "I'm not a baby, I can walk by myself" "Then why don't you just jump down?"

Silence...