#to walk away from someone she loves so much

[mylovesstuffs]

Could you write where a member of seventeen has a s/o that's like very out of their league like him being an idol and his s/o being like a medical student soon to be a doctor or something very different from each other and what would the members say when they found out lol a lot of teasins hehehe please any member would do!! I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH AGHHHHHH

"You’re Dating a What?!" | Hoshi x Medical Student!Reader ft. SEVENTEEN’s relentless teasing

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU!! I love this concept—it’s so perfect for teasing and chaos! I’ll go with Hoshi because I think he's so perfect for the scenario and I love his reaction lol and the members would absolutely clown him for dating someone so seriou. Also, note that, he's very smart too, alright? Let’s not forget how incredibly smart Hoshi is, especially when you look at how he plays Mafia. Have you seen him in action? His chaotic genius is honestly impressive.

Word count: 432 words

Hoshi had every right to keep you (except Dino) and your profession a secret for months. Not because he was ashamed—God, no, but because he knew exactly how his members would react. And he was right.

The moment they found out that their goofy, tiger-obsessed, choreographer leader was dating a soon-to-be doctor, all hell broke loose.

It happened during a normal group dinner just like every other day. Hoshi had stepped away to take a call and his phone lit up on the table with a notification from you.

“Just finished a 12-hour shift at the hospital. Dead tired. Miss you :(”

The room went silent.

Jun, sitting closest, immediately grabbed Hoshi’s phone, “Hospital?” he read out loud. “Wait, wait—guys, who is Y/N?”

“It’s his girlfriend,” Dino answered absentmindedly, stuffing his face with food. Then he froze. “Wait. Why is she at a hospital?”

Everyone turned to look at each other before Seungkwan gasped, “No way.”

Hoshi walked back in at that moment, completely unaware of the chaos about to unfold. “Hey, what’d I miss?” he asked, sitting down.

Jeonghan leaned forward, a wicked grin spreading across his angelic face. “Oh, nothing, doctor’s boyfriend.”

Hoshi choked on his water that he was about to gulp. “Wha—” silence. “How do you know?!”

Vernon waved his phone. “You left it unlocked. Rookie mistake, professor’s pet.” Cue every single member losing their minds.

Special scene lol.

The Roasting Session Begins

Mingyu: “You—YOU—bagged a future doctor? What did you do, trip in front of her and pretend to be unconscious?”

Dokyeom: “Wait, wait, so while we struggle to read our own contracts, your girlfriend is out here diagnosing diseases??”

Seungkwan: mockingly “Oh no, Dokyeom’s knee hurts from practice. Let me call my girlfriend.”

Woozi: “How did you even meet her? Was she studying in a library and you accidentally walked into the wrong building?”

Minghao: “Imagine working years to become a doctor only to date a guy who yells ‘I’M TIGER!’ for a living.”

Hoshi sat there, absolutely suffering, his face in his hands, “I hate all of you.”

Jeonghan threw an arm around him. “Nah, we’re proud of you, man. Who knew our little performance leader would be dating someone who actually contributes to society?”

Hoshi groaned, knowing the teasing would never end. But as his phone vibrated with another text from you—

“Heading home now. Call me when you’re free, love. <3”

—he just literally just grinned. Let them tease all they want. He was dating the coolest person in the world. And that was a flex.

The end.

Okay, but imagine Hoshi actually dating a doctor—it’d chaotic and adorable. He’d text you with things like “I sneezed, am I dying?” or “I accidentally ate expired ramen, will I survive?” I loved writing this, and if you want a different member, please let me know!! Thank you again for the request—you’re the best!!

[abbyslvrrr]

Ultraviolence dark!abby Anderson x fem!reader

So I had this fics in the works before I posted this little Drabble thing, I just wasn’t sure if people wanted it! I really hope that this is good, I honestly haven’t written much dark stuff so I’m sorry if this is actually asscheeks. Anyway hope you enjoy!! Love u angels 🤍

Cw: dark!abby she’s abusive and toxic. Reader is kidnapped and held in a basement. Abuse. I guess reader lowkey being starved. Literally basic human necessities taken away from her. Abby is manipulative.

Songs to listen to if you want: ultraviolence by Lana

𝜗𝜚 Abby, who kidnaps you and holds you captive in her home on the outskirts of the city where no one really comes.

𝜗𝜚 The first couple of weeks you fight, you scream, you do everything to get away from her. She entertains it, but why the 4th week does she get fucking irritated

𝜗𝜚 After a failed escape attempt, she throws you down the dark basement and locks you there for however long it takes to break you and to make you depend on her fully.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU BITCH!” Your throat is practically raw at this point from all the screaming. There was a small dirty mattress, pillow, and blanket there, a bucket, and a small window that had iron bars on it so you couldn’t escape through there. She would come back for you, right?

You were wrong, the only time she would come down was to give you food, and the food wasn’t much. Just a sandwich and water for the whole day, it’s safe to say she was depriving you of basic human necessities. You tried to stay strong the first week, talking to yourself, sleeping most of the time, anything to keep you grounded, but after that week when Abby still didn’t come to get you is when you start to freak out. You so desperately wished someone would talk to you or touch you.

God, Abby’s touches you missed, whether it had been because she was beating you black and blue or helping you change clothes, you just missed them lots. You needed her, you needed her praise, her degradation, you needed her to validate you as a person.

The second week in is where you break, You get scared, very scared. You scream for Abby, not stopping, but she does not come get you, little do you know, she’s behind the door listening to your screams and cries and relishing in the fact that you are breaking down bit by bit.

By the third week, all you can do is curl up in a ball and hope that Abby will take mercy on you and come back.

——————————

After a while, the basement door opens and Abby walks in, your eyes open. You don’t know whether to believe what you’re seeing, you feel a hand on your cheek brushing away a tear you didn’t know you let out.

She’s really here

“A-Abby?…” You call out to her weakly, more tears spill out. She doesn’t say anything but picks you up and takes you to the living room, where she sits on the couch with you in her lap. She wraps a fuzzy blanket around you.

All you can do is bury your face in the crook of her neck and cry, she rubs your back in a comforting manner.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me, angel?” She questions as she lifts your head up to look at her. Nodding your head ‘yes’ puts a smile on Abby’s face, she knows she’s broken you, and she couldn’t be happier.

“None of that escaping stuff anymore, okay? You’re here to stay with me, angel. If you’re a good girl, everything will be fine, and you’ll get rewarded. If you disobey me again, I’ll punish you ten times worse, got it?” Her face is serious and scary, which makes you let out a small whimper. You don’t have a choice in the matter anymore, it’s better to just be good and obey, right?

By now you’ve also forgotten the fact that you were kidnapped by Abby and that your face is all over the news. Your family is distraught that you’re gone, but hey, Abby thinks the missing person poster would look so cute framed in her office!

“Mhm, I get it, Abby. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Sorry this fic is actual ass it’s so BORING

𝜗𝜚 Tags! @livvietalks @rhyrhy @cstbdf @kaykeryyy @h2pinky @dollaches @killerbait @frillydolle @ch-4-eri

[jinxvex]

hiii!! i love ur abby hcs 😭😭😭

pleasee write abt abby and like the reader touching herself when shes not supposed to and abby has to punish her 🙏

♱ numb. ♱

mm!! yes me thinks!!

syp: abby punishing that p***y wbk...!!

cw: nsfw content!!, daddy kink (oops!), mean!dom abby, sub!reader, lots of degradation and rough treatment (yummy), finger-fucking, vulgar language/dirty talk, bdsm-ish elements, squirting, cunt slapping, slight choking!!

to put things simply, abby anderson owns you; every aspect of you. your heart, mind, body, and soul belong to her and you quite like it that way. you like the control of it all—the feeling of your brain shutting down and having someone who loves and cares about you take the reins. she lifts the weight off of your shoulders and holds it up whilst she plunges her cock into the deepest parts of you to awaken something so pleasurable that you melt away.

not to mention the other times she uses her tongue to lick the stress away—her fingers to press the negative thoughts and energy from your body forcing orgasm after orgasm out of your poor, achy little cunt. although, there is a layer of gentleness.

she’s holding back.

at times, you want her to fuck you until you’re numb. you want her to fuck you until the only thing spilling from your mouth are incoherent little pleads and moans for her to slow down and take it easy on you.

nevertheless, she doesn’t have many serious rules regarding your sex life. but! there is one that she’s been extremely adamant about from the start of the sexual part of your relationship which, hadn’t begun until fairly recently. her only rule as of late:

“don’t touch yourself without my permission, got it?”

knowing the extent of her rules or lack thereof, sparked some sort of disobedience within you—a craving to be ravished and punished and to push her so far beyond her limits that she has no choice but to punish you and ruin your pussy for anyone else.

oh! how you’d come to just slightly regret your approach to that… (you love it)!!

…

“f-fuhh-ck!! oh fuck, please! daddy, please ‘m- i can’t!” you plead to abby with shiny, tearful eyes.

right now, she’s resting her back against the headboard whilst she has your back pressed against her front. you can feel the swell of her warm breasts and the heat of her clothed pussy on your rear as she takes you apart. your legs are spread apart by hers. she’s got your legs locked under her strong, muscular ones—forcing you to take everything she’s giving you. her fingers that is.

her other hand is placed firmly on your throat not squeezing but holding you there for one sole reason.

so you can’t escape.

“nuh-uh. shut the fuck up. take it—take this shit. you’re gonna take everything i give this slutty little pussy since you wanted it so fuckin’ bad. you were begging f'me as soon as i walked through the door.”

the room smells strongly of sex, sweat, and your own sweet desperation, it’s almost painful the way abby’s fucking your pussy open on her fingers—you feel yourself going numb. at this point, your cunt has perfectly molded around her middle and ring finger, sucking her in to compensate for the intrusive way she bullied herself into you with no prep. the sounds being produced from you are downright sinful—loud squelches and creamy pussy noises.

not that it wasn’t easy, breaking you in. you were already awfully wet before she walked in on you. you’d been rubbing your clit to one of her ab pictures for an unprecedented amount of time, waiting for her to just walk into your open apartment to pick you up for the dinner date you’d scheduled. she’d walked in on you touching yourself in skimpy black lingerie—loud porno-sounding moans coming from your lips and filling up the entirety of the space around you.

she was furious. and still is from the way she’s handling you.

“‘m so sorry, baby! ‘m sorry, please. it hurts, ‘s too much, i already came twice!” you sob.

“thought this is what you wanted? huh?” she tuts disapprovingly. she pulls her fingers out of you to whack your cunt with the palm of her hand. that motion causes your wetness from your previous orgasms to splatter on her upper arm and your inner thighs. you can’t see her face at this angle, but you can hear the anger seeping from her tone.

“didn’t you want me to stretch this little pussy out? so i could break you open ‘n loosen you up for daddy's cock?”

you moan but make no orderly response.

she slaps your cunt once again, and from the force of her strike, you knew she wouldn’t ask again. “mm, f-fuck! i- i don’t know, i just—yes. i wanted it, daddy. wanted you to punish me. wanted it.” you babble.

she laughs out and whispers an octave quieter into your ear, her tone dripping sex, “i know, sweetheart, i know. you jus' needed to get this pussy fucked up for being so needy, hm?”

“who’s pussy is this, huh?” she asks you, unwavering.

“‘s yours! ‘s yours, promise!” you respond.

“yeah, it is. good girl. ‘s my fuckin’ cunt and i get to decide who touches it. even you, baby.”

her fingers then slam right back into your heat and they seem to reach deeper into you, hitting your g-spot so good that your pussy squirts out violently all over the bed and all over you both, soaking you in your own juices and creating a creamy white ring around her pruney digits. she’s fucking you through your high at the same pace she’s had the whole time, unrelenting.

slow and steady—yet rough and deep.

“don’t worry. i’m not stopping. 'm not gonna stop fucking this cunt until you pass the fuck out.”

you’d be lying if you said her comments didn’t cause your eyes to cross so far into each other that your vision spots—her words cause you to moan so loud that you’re bound to get a noise complaint. you need this. you need for her to be so mean and rough that it’s borderline psychotic, masochistic.

‘fuck.’ you curse yourself internally.

and as if she could hear your inner thoughts, “yeah, babe. you should be happy, though. you wanted to get fucked so bad,

— and now you’re gonna get it ‘til you’re numb.”

...

[myuareustillsleeping]

My only love

→ ceo! yu jimin x wife!reader

synopsis: although jimin is a cold hearted ceo and boss to others, to y/n she’s her loving wife. so she will do anything for her.

warnings : fluff, jimin being frustrated with her workers, kissing, hugging, (name)’s ex working for jimin and gets fired.

(lowercase intended!)

wc: 711 words

“I TOLD YOU I NEEDED THIS DONE BY TODAY!” jimin’s, more known as karina, voice bounced off the walls as she pinched her nose in frustration. “just get out.” she sighed. she had a bad day today, partly because of the coffee machine being broken and she couldn’t have her coffee before starting work. being a ceo sure has its perks but also its consequences. her father had passed down his position to his heir, jimin, when she was 19. she’s 24 now and happily married due to an arranged marriage requested by her father.

a knock was heard from the door. “come in.” she said in a firm voice not even looking up. the woman walked in and put her arms infront of her in a polite manner.“ms yu, there’s someone here for you.” the assistant’s monotone voice ringed in jimin’s ear in a irritating way. “let them in.” she said while typing something. yu (name)’s head can be seen peeking from outside the door as if she was hiding.

the assistant nodded and opened the door abit more. jimin looked up and it was as if all her bad feelings were gone and stuffed in a hole never to be seen again. the assistant immediately headed out the door once (name) had entered the room. the assistant gently closed the door and got back to her work. “(name) darling, what are you doing here?” she stood up and said in a sweet soft voice.

“you left me in the bed alone with ice cream.” (name) pouted and crossed her arms in a jokingly manner. ice cream was their dog which they had adopted 2 months ago. they treated it as if they were their real child. “i’m so sorry, there was an emergency i had to fix.” she held out her arms and (name) walked into her arms. (name) buried her nose in jimin’s neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume that she always used.

“it’s okay.” (name) looked up and smiled at her. (name) giggled, that giggle turned into a laugh. jimin had a concerned and confused expression on her face. “why are you laughing?” she chuckled, finding this adorable. “you know, i heard you yelling at your workers.”(name) giggled like a child. jimin’s eyes widened. “oh.” was all she said.

(name) giggled, “i didn’t know you were like this.” jimin smiled and squished her cheeks, “that’s because i never do it around you, you don’t deserve to hear me yelling at people. i love you too much to do that.”

“i was hoping to hang out with you today, but it seems like you are too busy.” (name) pouted and puffed her cheeks out. “nonsense, i’ll cancel all my plans today.” jimin kissed (name)’s cheek. “you’d do that for me?” (name)’s eyes lit up. “i’d do anything for you.” jimin gave a small peck on (name)’s lips.

there was a knock on the door.

(name) immediately sat down on the chair infront of jimin and tried to look as professional as she could. “come in!” jimin’s voiced boomed. the door creaked opened revealing a man wearing glasses, he was one of jimin’s assistant.

“ricky?” (name)’s eyes widen as she saw her ex standing at the door. ricky’s eyes widen as he looked at (name). he gulped before looking at jimin. jimin was giving him a cold glare to hurry up and leave them alone. “ms yu-“ “did you just ignore (name)? who do you think you are.” her voice judging and questioning him. “ricky, get out. i don’t want to see your face anymore.” (name) said turning her head away from him.

jimin looked at him expectingly to get out. “ms yu-“ “GET OUT!” her voice loud and clear as she stood up. ricky nodded urgently and rushed out of the room closing the door behind him. jimin sighed, “who does he think he is?”

“he’s my ex.” (name) said in a quiet voice. jimin’s eyes widened and quickly called her other assistant to fetch ricky and bring him to her office. “dear, i’m so sorry, i didn’t know-“ “it’s okay jimin.” (name) cut her off and kissed her on the forehead.

soon a knock on the door could be heard, “come in.” this time, jimin didn’t shout. “ms yu, i have brought him like you requested.” she said in a monotone voice. “thank you, you may go.” jimin dismissed her and the assistant closed the door. “you.” jimin said pointing at him. “who do you think you are to talk to MY (name) like that?” her voice loud. “i-i-..” he stuttered and his fingers fidgeting.

“you’re fired.” she said coldly. ricky just stood there looking at (name) for help, unfortunately for him (name) was avoiding his gaze. “well what are you still doing here? do i need to get security on you?” she asked looking at him harshly. “n-no ma’am.” he shook his head and opened the door with his sweaty palms. the moment the door had closed, (name) lashed onto jimin’s lap and kissed her deeply. jimin was shocked but nonetheless her hands were on (name)’s waist.

“i love you.” (name) whispered under her breath.

“i love you too.”

[cinnamqnx]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ toxic ft, satoru gojo

summary. your ex boyfriend wants you back, but you just don’t think you can go back to something so toxic

you’re currently finishing touching up your makeup in satoru’s bathroom mirror after he had basically just ruined it all of five minutes ago, your legs still a little weak. but you weren’t about to tell that egoist.

satoru snakes his way behind you, resting his chin on your head and placing his large palms against your shoulders as you look at him the mirror

“what’re you doing?”, you ask, an amused smile on your face.

satoru’s face was anything but, “are you leaving again?”, he questions, that comes out in a tone you’ve never been familiar with.

you nod slowly, “well, yeah. why would i stay?”

“i dunno, we just slept together, i thought we could spend time together.”, he shrugs, trying to act as nonchalant as he could but satoru’s never been the best at hiding his feelings when it came to you.

you shrug him off you, turning to face him, “don’t. don’t do that.”

“do what?”, he asks, looking like a kicked puppy right now.

“we broke up for a reason. just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean we’re just gonna go back to how we were.”, you cross your arms together in a protective way, feeling like satoru could just do anything with your heart.

it’s always been that way. he’s always been a soft spot for you and even now as you stand your ground, you feel like if he reached deep enough he could get your heart back.

“i know, but, i feel like we could make it work if we tried.”, he replies, gently trying to grab your hand before you brush him off.

“satoru. there’s no way we can be together, not in a relationship anyway. you can’t be someone’s boyfriend, you know that.”, you reason.

your breakup with satoru was extremely messy. it’s not like he cheated or anything like that, but it was damn well close enough for you to leave him. the man always had commitment issues, trust issues, attachment issues. you name any of them and he probably has them. so, being with him has always been so chaotic.

it was too much for you. you’re still young and as much as you love him, you knew you couldn’t be with him any longer. especially when the final straw was catching him being a little too flirty with someone else.

“i can change. i can, baby. and i want to, it’s been hell since you’ve been gone. i feel like i’m losing you every time i watch you walk out my door.”, he utters, his voice shaky causing your heart to drop.

“please, satoru. i can’t have this conversation with you.”

“baby, please. just let me try. i miss you, so much.”, he walks closer to you, gently rubbing down your arms as you face away from him.

you couldn’t even look at the expression on his face. you had felt like you’d seen satoru in every way, but it was so rare that you ever saw him so.. desperate.

“please.”, he whispers once more.

you shake your head, your throat squeezing up as you remove satoru’s hands from you. you could not let him see how much this was affecting you, you know it’d fuel some sick part of him that believes you want him just as much as he wants you.

“no.”, his face drops.

“i’m gonna leave, now. i don’t want you to call me, and i don’t think we should be seeing each other again.”

“wait- what?”, he scrambles, his face panicked, “you’re telling me you’re just leaving me, again?”

“don’t do this, you know i won’t stop.”, he reminds her. god, she knew better than anyone he never stopped.

“i know! i know that, that’s why i’m leaving. i’m putting an end to everything.”, you raise your voice, your calm words from earlier clearly not even going through his ears.

“we’re toxic, satoru. we will never work, and you will never change. i love you, i really do but i can’t keep doing this, it’s driving me insane. when am i gonna get any peace?”, you rant on at him, seeing his face turn more and more guilty by the second.

satoru’s love could be overwhelming at times. he had so much to give but so much to take, and he will always be like that. you knew he loved you, no, obsessed is a better way to describe it. it was too suffocating for it to be love.

and you knew this was toxic, you knew sleeping with him wouldn’t have helped the situation any more, but old habits die hard and when he’s calling you at 2am, begging for you, to just fuck at least one more time, you really couldn’t control your body when you were already putting your shoes on.

“i’m really sorry. please, we can just forget everything i said. i cant just not have you at all.”, he pleads, something he’s good at.

you sigh, starting to put everything back in your makeup bag, not even caring that your makeup was half done at this point.

“wow, you’re actually leaving, again.”, he scoffs as you tune him out. you can’t do this, you don’t have the energy. physically and mentally. satoru could go on at you all day if he wanted.

as you finally speed off, satoru following your every move and pushing the front door before you could even reach it he asks, “are you really doing this? is this even what you want?”

you look up at him, seeing the wetness spread around his eyes, “we shouldn’t be together.”, you simple state.

“i know.”, he sighs, admitting defeat as he removes his arm from the door. he’s known this all along, but he wanted to be a little more selfish with you, “i just.. don’t wanna lose you.”

when he doesn’t get any response, not even one he hated, he says, “i love you.”, just one final time.

“i know.”, you sigh.

you turn the knob on his door, not taking a second glance at him as the cool breeze hit your face, stepping outside and leaving satoru gojo behind you, and hopefully for good this time.

© cinnamqnx | do not plagiarise or translate any of my work

[rieamena]

operation dasher ꩜

doordasher!takuma and cosplayer!reader

word count: 1.1k

riea's comments: i might make this something long running with spontaneous additions so we don't get another full throttle (sorry about that one....)

you order in one evening because all the leftovers were done due to an impromptu visit from your nephews and nieces and with so much to do, you simply didn't feel like cooking anything (or had the time to). you had to finish your makeup, put on the costume, record and edit a video, and the list goes on and on. so yeah, no way you're cooking. yes, your heart did shatter a bit seeing the price but cravings were cravings and cravings need to be satisfied! 

with haste, you started on your to-do list and just when you were finished putting on your outfit, a notification pinged on your phone and the doorbell rang. speed walking to the door, you yelled out a coming! before they could ring it again. unlocking the door, you greeted your dasher. it was a guy who looked about your age, maybe a little older, so you guessed 22 or so, with brown hair peeking out of his black beanie that went with his all black outfit. you two stared at each other for a while, making you wonder what was wrong. until you remembered what part of the to-do list you were on just before you came to the door. 

"oh! s-sorry!" you scrambled to cover yourself with something anything, but to no avail. not even a blanket was near enough. he chuckled, looking you up and down before speaking,

"saiki, right? the character you're dressed up as?" the man in all black handed you the bag after taking a picture of it

"oh, yeah, haha..." you forcibly laughed, embarrassed due to your appearance at the moment (and the fact that your dasher was so...... let's not finish that thought.)

"cool! my little sister cosplays too. for the last con we went to, she cosplayed as sakura kinomoto and she made me sakura's older brother, toya."

you physically felt the air get lighter with his confession, "aww thats cute. does she have any socials where i can see?"

not missing a beat, he navigates to his sister's tiktok account and flips the screen to face you. typing the username in, you found her account and was shocked at how intricate her outfits were

"does she... make this all herself?" you asked, gasping with every scroll

the man wore a proud smile as he recalls the dedication of his sister. "yeah, she spends weeks, usually months, planning and making every little thing for her cosplays. it's tiring but she loves it!"

"my god... this is insane..." it was impossible to think twice when hitting the follow button. she was amazing, like simply incredible

"maybe you'll get to see one of her cosplays in person soon," he smiled, adding a second later,

"and maybe i'll get to see you again."

with that, he winked and jogged back to his car, driving away within seconds, leaving you frozen at your front door

"yeah... maybe."

you stood at the door, still holding the takeout bag in one hand, heart pounding in your chest. what was that? what the hell was that??!?! the thought replayed over and over again in your head as you slowly closed the door behind you. his wink had been so casual, like he did it all the time, but the way it affected you was anything but. not that it affected you though. cause it definitely didn't. like no, there wasn't a flutter in your heart when his eyes glistened and twinkled under the glow of the setting sun. no, you didn't feel anything throb or your knees buckle when you felt his eyes drag across your frame. no, you didn't— just no!

you leaned against the door for a moment, replaying the brief interaction in your head. his sister's cosplays, his smile as he talked about her, and the way he knew who you were cosplaying as without hesitation. it wasn't every day someone recognized saiki on the spot, let alone complimented your look without a hint of awkwardness. and, well, the guy was cute. very cute. society would say he's conventionally attractive but to you… there's just something else about him that makes you wanna— woah. that's too much to get into right now

after a few more moments of contemplation, you finally peeled yourself away from the door and made your way to the kitchen. the takeout container was warm in your hands, a comfort you didn't know you needed after the hectic day you'd had. setting it down on the counter, you opened the bag to reveal your meal, taking in the scent with a content sigh. maybe tonight wasn't so bad after all

as you plated your food and prepared to settle in for the night, your phone buzzed. you picked it up, expecting another reminder about your to-do list, but instead saw a notification from tiktok: [inodaisies] followed you back

your lips curled into a smile. it was his sister. she'd followed you almost immediately. not only that, but there was a new comment under one of her cosplay posts: "hope you two meet at the next con! :)"

you blinked. had he gone and told his sister about you already? the thought made your stomach flip, and not in a bad way. you scrolled through a few more of her videos, impressed yet again by her level of craftsmanship. the girl was seriously talented

and then another thought hit you

maybe you would run into him again. the con scene was big, but it wasn't that big. it was entirely possible your paths could cross if you kept attending. and judging by the way he'd spoken to you, he probably wouldn't mind seeing you either

"get it together," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head with a self-deprecating smile. you weren't the type to get swept up in a random interaction like this, but tonight had definitely thrown you for a loop, and damn you didn't mind it at all. dare i say, you even enjoyed it. oh, you definitely enjoyed it

you unlocked your phone to send a text to your friends. you told them about everything, a small interaction like this could blow up into full scale delusion, and god you needed that right now

my dasher is so hot

—

the girl who i just dashed to was so pretty

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @babysoo-meu

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@mayyhaps @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd

@e-dollly @ozdramaqueen @nymphsdomain @beeksyurr @colorcode

@baekhyunsbestie @vorfreudevortex @leuriss @xaithings @corvid007

[queenariesofnarnia]

pretty boy🩵 {j.t. x fem reader}

a/n: i wrote this in my notes at 3 in the morning so its lowercase on purpose. its not the greatest but there’s a better fic for this pretty boy in progress also gif not mine

“hey pretty boy” that’s how you always greeted joaquín. along with other nicknames. he realized its how you talk to your friends but you have a special set for him pretty boy, sugar, and baby. yet the two of you aren’t together and it confuses the hell out of everyone but the two of you. sam wasn’t sure how much longer he could take watching the two of you act like this. 

“torres. do me a favor and make her your girlfriend” sam groaned interrupting joaquín’s story about the two of you going to dinner together the other night. 

“i don’t think she wants me like that” he said confused. sam looked at him like he lost his mind. 

“that girl who calls you pretty boy. hell i’ve heard her call you baby! and you’re gonna sit here and tell me she doesn’t want you like that? either i’ve gone crazy or you’re oblivious” sam rants. 

with you and your best friend on your end you’re asking which outfit you should wear for your next hangout with joaquín. 

“at this point i’m sure you could wear a potato sack and he’d love it” your best friend azalea comments laughing. 

“zay he would not” you say with a laugh, a little frustrated with the choices you’ve pulling from your closet. 

“petal, it’s joaquín we’re talking about here. he adores you. and you adore him. remind me why you aren’t dating him?” she questioned. 

“what if he doesn’t want me like that?” you ask self doubt seeping in. azalea sighed. 

“listen petal, i’ve never seen someone so enamored with a person like he is with you. he’s seen you in some of your biggest crisis moments. he’s let you cry your makeup off on him. that man loves you petal, you just have to see it.” she says sincerely, using her nickname for you. 

“i guess” you say nonchalantly, she can’t help but groan in response. 

a few days later 

you and joaquín are sitting at a little outdoor cafe enjoying a small breakfast. you were laughing at something he said when a girl came up to him clearly flirting like you weren’t there. you normally aren’t one for confrontation but what she’s doing is rude. 

“hey” you snap, they both look at you, pointing to the girl “walk away now, or i won’t be nice” she stands there mouth gaped like a fish “girl make like michael jackson and beat it” you almost growled at her. when she scurried off you tools sip of your drink like everything was normal. 

“cariño, are you okay?” he asked reaching across the table to hold your hand.

“i’m great pretty boy” you smile sweetly at him. 

“you just told a girl to beat it for talking to me.” he chuckled.

“well one it was rude for her to interrupt. two you’re my pretty boy, i don’t share. it’s not my style” you shrug 

“‘your pretty boy’ i like the sound of that” he beams and damn him for having the prettiest smile you thought to yourself. 

“i’m glad you like it. cause i’m not letting you go ever” you assure him squeezing his hand softly, the free hand holding his cheek “my pretty boy” you lean forward kissing his cheek. 

 joaquín smirks cupping your cheek “you missed” he closes the space between you capturing your lips in a proper kiss. 

[nakylvr]

I need a one shot of the vampire Sophia where she’s always cold because like one day she comes home and then you notice how cold she is you’ve always noticed but it never got so bad where she won’t stop shivering and as you said it’s winter time so it’s even more colder then usual

🐻-anon

this is pretty short, sorry 😭🙏

— FROSTBITE

warnings/tags: fluff, established relationship, vamp!sophia, human!reader, f!reader

it had started getting colder during the winter season as the holidays approached, and while you were pretty accustomed to the cold weather, your girlfriend was not.

sophia was always cold, no matter what. with her having no real body temperature, she felt like a freezer whenever she would hug you or cup your face with her hands. and when winter came around, she was only colder.

you were sitting on the couch of your apartment, a blanket draped over your legs as you sip on a cup of tea you'd made while watching a movie. sophia had told you she'd be home soon, but that was thirty minutes ago. you didn't worry too much, though. you knew sometimes she would have to make a pit-stop and bite someone if she didn't want to bother you. she was always good about it when she would take some of your blood, never taking too much and pulling away before you would feel the notice and pass out, so you didn't mind when she did. you understood anyway, though.

the front door opens with a click, and you lean to the side over the arm of the couch to see sophia walking in. she slowly closes the door behind her, not removing her coat as she walks towards you. it's when she's standing in front of you that you notice her visibly shaking.

"are you okay?" you instantly ask, setting down your cup and looking up at her.

"yeah." she nods. "just cold," she mumbles.

"i can see that," you reply, moving the blanket off of you and standing up. "you want to go to bed?" you grab one of her hands that's freezing cold. and while it would normally make anyone flinch at the coldness, you had grown used to it.

sophia merely nods her head, her lip quivering slightly from the cold.

without another word, you start walking to your bedroom, turning on the little heater while heading in. once reaching the bed you turn and face sophia. "i love you, but you're not wearing this coat in my bed," you say, letting go of her hand.

"i'm gonna freeze," sophia complains in a mumble.

"you always are," you respond. "just take it off."

"okay," sophia grumbles, sliding the coat off her shoulders and setting it down on the dresser.

the instant she's close enough to you, you grab her hand again and pull her down onto the bed with you, hearing the quiet gasp of surprise she lets out making you giggle. looking over at her, it's evident she wants to say something but isn't for some reason, making you roll over onto your side to look at her better.

"are you okay?" you ask gently.

sophia nods, "yeah." but she is still shivering as she shuffles closer to you. "uhm, do you think you could, uh," she stammers over her words slightly, trying to figure out how to word it. when you look at her with confusion she lets out a little sigh. "do you think you could hold me tonight?" she mumbles, barely audible.

your expression softens at her words, sensing the vulnerability in them with how hesitant she was about asking it. "of course," you say with a smile. "come here." you hold your arms out to her.

sophia rolls over so her back is facing you, feeling your arms wrap around her and pull her flush against you, making her breath hitch in her throat. she immediately feels the warmth of your body, and when you pull the blanket over you both all she can think about is how this isn't so bad. she was scared of being vulnerable, of being this comfortable with someone who knew what she was and what she could do. but, she didn't feel scared when it came to you. she was comfortable with you.

"i love you," she whispers quietly, grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours.

"i love you too," you respond in the same voice, pressing a kiss on her shoulder. "get some sleep, it's supposed to get colder overnight."

"mm," she hums, nodding a bit. "then you'll call out of work?" she says in a hopeful voice.

a light chuckle escapes your lips. "yeah, sure," you answer. "because my girlfriend is a big baby who can't handle the cold."

"you know i'm already always cold," sophia whines.

"i know," you say, kissing her neck. "but i love you and your weird vampireness."

"that sounds derogatory," sophia says.

"only if you take it that way," you reply. "now go to sleep, i'm tired."

"fine," she grumbles under her breath, forcing herself to close her eyes.

the next morning, you ultimately had to call out of work because sophia wouldn't let go of you. you were now her personal heater in her words, and she didn't ever want to let go of you.

[h4nj1sunggg]

Hii I love your fics so much

Can you do an idol lino fwb fic where maybe yn falls for him ajdjfhdjs GONNA GO INSANE CUZ IMAGINE HIM FALLING HARD TOO AND HE'S IN DENIAL AS FUCK

Anyway keep slaying, your writing is so good!!

omg hi anon thank you for your request (totally not expecting it #denial) aniwayz this is for ya :)) so sorry for being late!!

pairing: idol!lee minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fwb to lovers

words: 2.6 k summary: you run to him, every single time.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

warnings: oral (f), p in v, soft dom Minho, dirty talks, breeding, unprotected sex (don't be silly pls) .

You should have known better.

Because rules meant nothing when he held you like this. When his voice was the first thing you heard in the morning, raspy and laced with something unspoken. When his fingers traced patterns on your bare skin, absentminded, like he wanted to memorize you.

You were supposed to be just friends with benefits—nothing more.

It was easier to pretend nothing had changed when Minho was gone. When he was on stage, an idol in the spotlight, untouchable.

You watched him from the screen in your dimly lit apartment, his movements sharp and precise, his voice smooth and captivating. The fans screamed his name, reaching for him like he was something divine. And maybe he was.

But in the quiet of your room, he was just Minho. The man who snuck in through your window when schedules got too overwhelming. The man who kissed your shoulder in the dark, murmuring, "Just five more minutes," before he inevitably had to leave. The man who made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one breaking the rules.

Your phone buzzed.

[Minho]: "Leaving the venue soon. Can I come over?"

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You should have said no.

But you never did.

               ⠀⠀                   ⠀⠀              - ۶ৎ -

The first time you met Lee Minho, you were just another face in a crowded backstage event, trying to blend into the background. You had no intention of catching anyone’s attention—especially not his.

But Minho had a way of noticing things.

"You look bored," he had said, sliding into the empty seat beside you. His voice carried a teasing lilt, his sharp eyes scanning you with curiosity.

You blinked, caught off guard. "I—uh, just not used to all this."

"All this?" He gestured vaguely to the chaos of idols, managers, and staff flitting around the room. "Yeah, it’s a lot. But you don’t seem like the type to be easily overwhelmed."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "And what type do I seem like?"

Minho smirked, tilting his head. "The type that likes to pretend she’s unaffected when she’s actually observing everything."

It was unsettling how quickly he had read you, but before you could fire back, someone called his name, pulling him away.

You thought that was the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

The next time you ran into him, it was at a late-night convenience store, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the nearly empty aisles. You were exhausted, craving something to take the edge off your day. Minho, dressed in a hoodie and cap pulled low, was scanning the instant ramen section like it held the answers to life’s problems.

You almost walked past him. Almost. But he glanced up, catching your eye before you could slip away. "You again."

You hesitated. "Me again."

Minho’s lips curled into that signature smirk, a glint of amusement in his gaze. "So, do you always lurk in convenience stores at ungodly hours, or is this a special occasion?"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a bottle of iced coffee from the fridge. "Rough day."

He hummed in understanding, reaching for a pack of ramen. "Wanna take your mind off it?"

Your fingers tightened around the bottle. It was a simple question, lighthearted, almost playful. But something in his tone made it feel like more. Like an invitation.

And maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the way Minho looked at you—like he already knew you were going to say yes. So you did.

And that was how it started.

When you arrived, Minho open the entrance of his apartment building, hands in his pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Minho tilted his head, his smirk barely visible under the streetlights. "You coming up or not?"

You followed him without question.

The elevator ride was silent, heavy with something unspoken. When the doors slid open, he led you inside his apartment—a sleek, modern space that felt distinctly his. Minho locked the door behind you, turning to face you with something almost hesitant in his gaze.

"Make yourself comfortable," he murmured, voice softer than usual.

And for the first time, you wondered—was this really just about taking your mind off things?

Minho leans against the doorframe, his gaze raking over your curves as you approach his apartment. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing exactly what he has in store for you tonight.

"Y/n, you look even more ravishing than I remembered," he purrs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Come inside, I've got something special planned to help you relax and forget all your troubles."

Minho's hands find your hips, pulling you close as he kicks the door shut behind you. "I've been thinking about you non-stop since our last encounter," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, you'll forget your own name." His lips brush against your neck, placing gentle kisses along your jawline.

Your heart races as Minho's strong arms envelop you, his touch igniting a fire within. A soft gasp escapes your lips as his kisses trail along your sensitive skin.

"Minho..." you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation. You press yourself closer, craving more of his touch. Your fingers intertwine with his hair, pulling him even tighter against you.

Minho growls softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. His hands roam your body possessively, squeezing your curves through the fabric of your clothes. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you.

Minho breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more. He takes your hand and leads you towards his bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The air crackles with tension as you step inside, the large bed dominating the room.

"I want you naked," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. "Slowly. Let me admire you."

He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you intently. His gaze burns with desire, promising untold pleasures. Your fingers tremble slightly as you begin to undress, revealing your curves inch by inch. Minho's eyes darken with lust, his pupils dilating as he takes in the sight of your bare skin.

Once you're fully naked, he stands and begins to remove his own clothes, his movements deliberate and teasing. "Lie on the bed," he orders, his voice thick with desire. "Spread your legs for me. I want to see how wet you are."

You comply with Minho's command, lying back on the soft sheets and spreading your legs wide. The cool air kisses your heated skin, making your nipples harden. Minho's gaze lingers on your exposed center, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Fuck, you're already so wet," he murmurs, stepping closer to the bed. He kneels between your legs, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs further apart. "I'm going to devour this pretty pussy until you're begging for my cock."

Minho leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive folds. He inhales deeply, savouring your scent. "You smell divine," he growls, before diving in and flattening his tongue against your slit.

He licks a slow, deliberate path from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices on his tongue. "Mmm, and you taste even better." Your moans fills the room, your back arch as the feeling of his wet and warm tongue hits you as waves of pleasure.

Minho settles in, his face buried between your legs as he feasts on your pussy. His tongue explores every inch of you, delving deep into your entrance before swirling around your clit.

He sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you arch off the bed. "Ahh, Minho!" you cry out, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He responds by redoubling his efforts, his tongue moving at a frantic pace. "That's it, baby," he murmurs against your flesh. "Let me hear you."

One of his hands slides up your body, palming your breast and pinching your nipple. The dual stimulation sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hips buck against his face, seeking more friction.

Minho's other hand moves to your hip, holding you in place as he ravishes your pussy. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, leaving bruises that will serve as a reminder of this encounter.

He slides two digits into your soaked entrance, curling them upwards to hit that sweet spot inside you. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice muffled by your folds.

"I can't wait to feel this pussy gripping my cock."

He pumps his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. The combination of sensations is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your inner walls clench around his invading digits, your body desperate for release. "Minho, fuck- Minho! I'm gonna... I'm gonna come!" you shout, your back bowing off the bed. "Do it," he encourages, his fingers moving faster.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure. Minho doesn't let up, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive clit, drawing out your climax. He laps up your release, savoring your taste as you ride out the aftershocks.

"That's my girl," he praises, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. "You came so beautifully for me." As you catch your breath, Minho crawls up your body, his muscular frame hovering over you.

His hard cock presses against your stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum on your skin. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he declares, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to fill this tight little pussy with my cock and make you scream my name again."

Minho reaches between your bodies, gripping his thick shaft and positioning it at your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

Your hips lift, seeking more contact, but he pulls back, denying you. "Patience, baby," he chuckles darkly. "I'm going to take my time with you." With a swift thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside you.

"ah! fuck!" A low groan escapes his lips as your walls stretch to accommodate his size. He pauses, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet, like you were made for me." Slowly, he begins to move, pulling out until only the tip remains before sliding back in. His pace is deliberate, each thrust hitting your deepest spots.

As Minho picks up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep into your core with each thrust.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "Harder," you pant, your nails digging into his back. "Fuck me harder, Minho!" He obliges, his movements becoming more forceful and erratic.

The bed creaks beneath you, threatening to break under the intensity of your lovemaking. Minho's hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. "Come for me again," he demands, his voice strained, almost begging for it.

"I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you come undone." Your body responds to his touch, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly. You're close, so close to another explosive orgasm.

Minho leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to pound into you. His tongue dominates your mouth, mirroring the dominance of his hips. The combination of sensations is overwhelming, pushing you over the edge.

Your inner walls clamp down on his cock, pulsing and contracting as you ride out your orgasm. Feeling you come undone beneath him, Minho lets out a guttural groan.

His hips stutter, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. "Fuck, Y/n," he pants against your lips. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna fill this pussy up."

With a final thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock twitching as he spills his hot seed. He stays buried within you, his body trembling with the force of his climax.

And that was the best fuck that you've ever had before.

The first of more and more to come.

               ⠀⠀                   ⠀⠀              - ۶ৎ -

You should have known better.

But every time you were with him, every time his hands were on you, your feelings grew stronger. It started as something small—a flicker of warmth in your chest when he whispered your name, a pang of longing when he left too soon.

And then it became unbearable.

You weren’t just craving his touch anymore. You were craving him. The real him. The one who lingered a little longer in your bed, tracing lazy circles on your thigh, the one who looked at you like he wanted to say something but never did.

You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself that nothing had changed. But it had.

Because every time he touched you, every time he pulled you closer, every time he kissed you like you were the only thing grounding him, you fell a little more.

You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself that nothing had changed. But it had.

Because every time he touched you, every time he pulled you closer, every time he kissed you like you were the only thing grounding him, you fell a little more.

The message came late at night, like it always did.

[Minho]: You up?

You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You knew exactly what this was about. It was never just a casual conversation, never a simple check-in. It was an invitation. A moment later, another message popped up.

[Minho]: Come over.

No explanation, no pretense. Just a direct request, one you had already expected.

Your heart pounded, even though it shouldn’t. This was supposed to be simple—no feelings, no complications. Just sex. And yet, the way your stomach flipped every time his name lit up your phone told a different story.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Then you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

You stood nervously in front of Minho’s apartment door, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. You’d never been to his place before, and you weren’t entirely sure what to expect, though you had a pretty good idea. You had been friends for a while, but tonight felt different.

When you rang the doorbell, Minho opened the door almost immediately, his casual attire—just a black T-shirt and sweatpants—making him look effortlessly attractive. His expression softened when he saw you, a confident, yet inviting smile on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside. “I’m glad you came.”

You hesitated for a moment but then stepped in, your pulse quickening as you entered his space. His apartment had a relaxed, cozy vibe, and it felt strangely intimate already. There was a comfort in his presence, but the air felt charged with tension.

His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting. The playful spark in his eyes was replaced by something more serious, more daring.

“I want to be with you. No games, no distractions—just us, here, together.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you felt a thrill run down your spine. You weren’t sure how you should respond—whether to give in to this moment, or hold back. But his hands were already on your waist, pulling you closer, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just… stay.”

[amethystarachnid]

hey! i JUST saw your love is in the air game (and im so happy im online right now)

could i request trope 1. baker with logan howlett and fem!reader? thanks! surprise me with the plot, i love reading your ideas and writing 🤍 (like seriously, you’re a magician) my only plot-wise detail is fluff fluff and more fluff 🥹

thank you so much!!!

SUGAR & FLOUR

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: Logan keeps telling himself that the reason he keeps coming back at your bakery is because your food is good, defitnely not because you're the most beautiful woman he has ever seen

ᯓ★ TW(s): some spicy scenes, nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ Timeline: modern days

ᯓ★ omg your words are so sweet, I'm so happy that you like my works <3

ᯓ★ From: MARVEL Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

It starts with a craving. Not for violence, for once. Not for a beer, though that's a close second. Just a simple, nagging, stubborn craving for something sweet. Something good.

Logan doesn't know why. Maybe it's because dinner at the mansion sucked tonight—something suspiciously green that even Hank avoided. Maybe it’s because it’s been a long week filled with headaches, Charles’s lectures, and Scott being Scott. Or maybe it’s just the damn cold creeping into his bones, the way winter in Westchester always does, no matter how many years he’s been here.

Either way, he’s out, walking through the quieter part of town, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, when the scent hits him. Warm sugar, butter, cinnamon. Vanilla, maybe. It curls in the air, thick and golden, like something out of an old memory he can’t quite place. His stomach tightens in response, and his feet follow before his brain fully catches up.

The bakery is small, tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop, the kind of place you don’t notice unless you’re looking for it. A little bell jingles when he pushes the door open, and the warmth inside immediately wraps around him, chasing away the winter chill. Soft light, wooden shelves lined with pastries, and a glass display case filled with enough sugar to put someone in a coma. But none of that is what makes him pause.

It’s you.

You stand behind the counter, apron dusted with flour, a smudge of chocolate on your cheek, completely oblivious to the way you just knocked the air out of his lungs. You’re talking to an older woman, smiling as you tuck a small box into a bag, laughing at something she says. It’s a good laugh. A real one. Logan tells himself that’s not why he lingers.

He clears his throat.

You look over, and damn if it doesn’t hit him again, something warm and strange settling in his chest. You blink, surprised—maybe because he looks like he just walked in from the woods (which, to be fair, he kind of did). But then your expression softens into something friendly, open.

“Hey there,” you greet, wiping your hands on your apron as you step closer. “Welcome in. What can I get you?”

Logan glances at the display case, like he didn’t just come in here because his gut told him to. There are cookies, muffins, little cakes. Delicate pastries that look too pretty to eat. A basket of croissants that reminds him of—

He shakes his head, clearing that thought before it forms.

“What’s good?” he asks gruffly.

Your lips twitch, like you’re holding back a smile. “Everything,” you answer easily. “But if you want my personal recommendation… the cinnamon rolls just came out of the oven.”

Logan considers. He likes cinnamon rolls well enough. But mostly, he likes the way your eyes brighten when you talk about them.

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Gimme one of those.”

“One?” you tease, already reaching for a paper bag. “You sure?”

His lips twitch before he catches himself. “Fine. Two.”

You flash him a smile as you bag them up, and Logan tells himself the warmth in his chest is just from the damn oven.

That should be the end of it.

Logan has his cinnamon rolls. They’re good—better than good, actually—but he’s not the kind of guy who goes out of his way for pastries. He eats, he leaves, he doesn’t think about it again.

Except… he does.

Because two days later, he’s back.

This time, it’s for the muffins. Blueberry, fresh out of the oven. The way you light up when you see him walk in? That’s not why he comes back.

And then it’s three days later, for the croissants. Then again for something called a bear claw (which he orders just to make a joke, but you smile and say, “Good choice,” like you mean it, and he forgets whatever smartass comment he was about to make).

And, well. He’s not a complete idiot. He knows exactly what’s happening.

So does everyone else.

Because when he shows up at the mansion carrying a box filled with sweets for the third time in a week, he barely makes it two steps inside before—

“Well, well,” Scott drawls from the staircase. “Look who’s got a sweet tooth.”

Logan grunts. “Back off, One-Eye.”

Scott smirks. “I’m just saying, you’re bringing home a lot of pastries lately. Like… a lot.”

Jean walks by, peeking into the box in his hands before glancing up with knowing amusement. “Oh, those are from Sugar & Flour downtown, right?”

Logan frowns. “You been there?”

“Of course. It’s amazing. Their cinnamon rolls are the best thing ever.” Then she pauses, raising a brow. “Wait. How did you find that place?”

“Luck,” Logan mutters.

At that moment, Charles wheels into the hallway, glancing between Logan and the box like he’s already reading way too much into this. “Ah,” he says, amused. “I see we have another delivery from Logan’s bakery of choice.”

“I don’t have a bakery of choice,” Logan grumbles.

“Strange, considering how often you return.”

Logan scowls. “You want a damn pastry or not?”

Charles chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind a croissant.”

With a sigh, Logan drops the box onto the nearest table and stalks off before they can get any more ideas.

You’re wiping down the counter when the bell chimes again, and there he is. The gruff, broad-shouldered, flannel-wearing mystery man who keeps coming back.

Not that you’re complaining.

He’s got that same look—like he’s not quite sure why he’s here, like his feet brought him inside before his brain caught up. You like that look. It makes you want to smile.

“Back again?” you tease, setting down your rag.

He huffs, like he wants to be annoyed but can’t quite manage it. “Yeah, well. That last batch of muffins was pretty good.”

“Uh-huh.” You prop your elbows on the counter. “And what’s the excuse this time?”

He hesitates, like he’s debating how much to say. Then, finally:

“Needed to clear my head.”

Your expression softens. “Long day?”

Something flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t say much, just nods.

You nod back, understanding. “Then you’re in the right place. Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that good food makes everything better.”

That earns a quiet huff of laughter. “That so?”

“Absolutely.” You grin. “So, what’ll it be?”

He hesitates again, glancing at the case like he’s searching for something. Then, finally, he looks back at you.

“What do you recommend?”

The words are simple. Casual. But there’s something else in his expression—something warm, something fond. Like he’s not really asking about the pastries at all.

Your stomach does a little flip, and you smile.

“Well,” you say. “I just pulled a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls out of the oven.”

Logan’s mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And when he says, “Alright. Gimme two,” you swear you hear something unspoken in the words.

Something you really, really hope is real.

Logan becomes a regular before he even realizes it.

At first, it’s just every couple of days. Then it’s every other day. And then, somehow, it’s every damn morning.

Not that he’s counting.

And sure, maybe at first he convinced himself it was just the food. Because the food is good—ridiculously so. But if that were the only reason, he wouldn’t take the extra five minutes just to make sure his flannel doesn’t smell like cigars before stepping inside. He wouldn’t always wait an extra second after ordering just to hear you talk. He wouldn’t leave the bakery feeling a little lighter, like the weight of the world isn’t quite so heavy.

The fact that you always smile when you see him? Yeah, that’s got nothing to do with it.

Of course, the X-Men don’t let him live it down.

“Tell me, Logan,” Charles says one evening as Logan walks in with yet another bakery box. “Are you purchasing shares in this establishment? Or is there another reason for your continued patronage?”

Logan glares. “I hate you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Jean, seated at the table, hides a smile behind her hand. “So, what’s today’s selection?”

“Apple turnovers,” Logan grumbles, dropping the box down. “They looked good.”

Scott snickers. “Or someone looked good.”

Logan grabs a pastry and shoves it into Scott’s hand—maybe a little harder than necessary. “Eat your damn turnover, Summers.”

But despite the teasing, Logan doesn’t stop going.

And the more he shows up, the more you two start talking.

At first, it’s just light chatter. You ask him about his day, and he shrugs it off. He asks how business is going, and you smile and tell him about the customers, the new recipes you’re testing, the early mornings that come with the job. Sometimes he just listens, watching the way your hands move as you talk, the way your eyes brighten when you describe the perfect rise on a loaf of bread.

And then, somewhere along the way, the conversations change.

One morning, after he complains about the cold, you tell him how you grew up in a place where it never snowed, and winter still feels like a novelty. Another time, after you mention being up before dawn, he tells you about the long nights on the road, the places he’s been, the years that blur together.

It’s easy.

Easier than it should be.

And Logan? He’s not used to that.

Then February rolls around.

The first time he walks in and sees pink and red creeping into the bakery—heart-shaped cookie cutters on the counter, little pastel sprinkles in glass jars—he almost turns around.

But then you spot him and smile, and, well. There’s no walking away from that.

“Morning, Logan.” You set down a tray of what looks like strawberry muffins. “What do you think?”

He blinks. “About what?”

You gesture around the bakery. “The decorations! I’m getting everything ready for Valentine’s Day.”

Logan eyes the little paper hearts now pinned to the walls. “Huh.”

You tilt your head. “That’s it? Huh?”

Logan shrugs. “Never been my thing.”

You gasp, clutching your apron dramatically. “How dare you. Valentine’s Day is great.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow. “What’s so great about it?”

“Oh, come on.” You lean against the counter. “It’s a whole day dedicated to love and affection and just… happiness. Even if you’re not in a relationship, it’s nice seeing people make an effort for each other.”

Logan watches you for a moment. You’re serious. You really believe that.

“Huh,” he says again, but this time, it’s thoughtful.

Then you grin. “And also, it’s an amazing day for bakeries.”

That makes him chuckle. “Yeah, I bet.”

You nod, excited. “I’m thinking of doing a special menu for the holiday. Heart-shaped cookies, pink velvet cupcakes, maybe even some fancy chocolates. What do you think?”

Logan exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Dunno if I’m the guy to ask about that.”

“Come on,” you tease. “You’ve basically tried half my menu by now. You’ve got opinions.”

Logan smirks. “That so?”

“Absolutely.”

And, well. He figures there are worse things than helping you brainstorm ideas for heart-shaped baked goods.

So he does.

He listens while you bounce ideas off him, tells you which pastries sound best, even reaches up to help pin some of the paper hearts a little higher when you struggle to reach. He doesn’t let himself think about how domestic it feels—just you and him, alone in the quiet morning, talking about something as simple as sugar cookies.

He definitely doesn’t think about how good it feels.

Then February 14th arrives.

Logan wakes up that morning already annoyed with himself.

Because for the past week, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. The way you lit up when you talked about Valentine’s Day. The way you stood on your tiptoes to hang decorations, laughing when he grabbed the tape out of your hands and did it for you.

The way he almost—almost—let himself imagine what it would be like if he had someone like you.

Which is stupid.

He’s never been the flowers-and-romance kind of guy. He doesn’t do relationships, doesn’t do soft, doesn’t do happy endings.

Except.

When he walks into town that morning, his feet don’t take him straight to the bakery.

They take him to the flower shop next door.

The bell jingles as he steps inside, and an older woman behind the counter looks up with a bright smile. “Good morning! What can I—”

Then she pauses, eyes flicking over his flannel, his scowl, the whole him of it all.

“Let me guess,” she says knowingly. “Valentine’s Day surprise?”

Logan grunts. “Somethin’ like that.”

She hums, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Roses? Or maybe something softer… tulips? Peonies?”

Logan hesitates, then exhales sharply. “I dunno. Just… something nice.”

Her smile turns warm. “I’ve got just the thing.”

By the time Logan walks into the bakery, there’s a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand. Nothing over-the-top. Just a mix of soft colors, something simple. Something nice.

You’re at the counter, already busy with the morning rush, but when the bell chimes, you glance up—and freeze.

Logan shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Uh. Hey.”

Your eyes flick from him to the flowers.

Then back to him.

Then back to the flowers.

And when you look back up, your expression is—

Oh.

Something in Logan’s chest tightens.

Because you’re looking at him like he just handed you the world.

“Are those…?” Your voice is softer than usual, like you’re afraid to break whatever this moment is.

Logan grunts. “Yeah. They’re for you.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parting like you’re about to say something. Then, suddenly, a customer calls your name, and you blink, snapping back to reality.

“One sec!” you tell them before turning back to Logan, flustered. “I—um. Let me just—”

You reach for the flowers, hands brushing his, and damn it, why is his heart beating faster?

“They’re beautiful,” you say softly.

Logan swallows. “Yeah, well.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Seemed like the kinda day for it.”

Your smile turns shy, and Logan tells himself he’s not melting.

Then he exhales, shifting his weight. “Listen. You, uh… got plans tonight?”

Your breath catches. “Tonight?”

He nods, trying not to look as damn awkward as he feels. “Yeah. Figured… maybe I could take you to dinner. If you want.”

For a second, you just stare. Then—

“Yes.”

It’s immediate. No hesitation.

Logan blinks. “Yeah?”

You laugh, still holding the flowers close. “Yeah. Of course.”

And, well.

Logan might not be the flowers-and-romance kind of guy.

But as you smile at him—bright and happy, like he just gave you the best gift in the world—he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could be.

For you.

You don’t consider yourself a nervous person.

You run a business. You wake up before the sun, manage suppliers, handle customers with difficult requests. You can face a crowd and talk about your pastries with confidence, even when the pressure is on.

But as you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing down your dress for the fourth time, you feel nervous in a way that’s completely unfamiliar.

Because this isn’t just a date. It’s a date with Logan.

The gruff, flannel-wearing, cinnamon roll-loving man who somehow wormed his way into your daily routine—and, if you’re being honest, your thoughts, too.

You take a slow breath, stepping back to look at yourself.

The dress isn’t anything over-the-top—simple, flattering, something soft and flowy in a color that makes your skin glow just right. You’d debated going more casual, but… something told you Logan deserved the effort. And judging by how he showed up earlier with flowers, he might be making an effort too.

That thought alone makes your stomach flip.

Then the sound of an engine outside draws your attention.

Not the deep, familiar rumble of a motorcycle.

A car.

You peek through the window, and sure enough, there’s a sleek black car parked outside.

And standing next to it, looking more put-together than you’ve ever seen him, is Logan.

You blink.

Because—okay. He still looks like Logan. But the usual flannel has been swapped for a dark button-up, the sleeves rolled to his forearms, and his hair looks… good. Like he actually ran a hand through it with intention. And he’s standing there, leaning against the car like he’s trying so hard to look casual but can’t quite pull it off.

You grab your coat and step outside, feeling the winter air nip at your bare skin.

Logan straightens the second he sees you.

His eyes sweep over you—down, then up again, slower this time. And for a moment, he just looks.

Then he clears his throat. “You look… good.”

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thanks.”

Then you glance at the car. “So, what’s this?”

Logan exhales through his nose, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Charles’ idea.”

Your brows lift. “Charles told you to get a car?”

“He suggested it.” Logan scowls slightly. “Said if you were gonna wear a dress, showin’ up with the bike was a dumbass move.”

Your lips twitch. “I mean, he’s got a point.”

Logan sighs. “Yeah, yeah.” Then, hesitantly, he gestures toward the car. “You ready?”

You nod, and he opens the door for you.

It’s a small thing, but something about it makes your heart do another little flip.

Dinner is, unsurprisingly, very Valentine’s Day-themed.

Which means that when you walk in, you’re immediately hit with dim candlelight, soft music, and an overwhelming number of couples sharing desserts with tiny forks.

Logan pauses just inside the door, scanning the restaurant like he’s sizing up a fight.

You bite back a laugh. “Regretting this already?”

He grunts. “Didn’t think it’d be this… pink.”

You grin. “What, no love for the holiday spirit?”

Logan just gives you a look, and you laugh as the host leads you to a table.

Despite the overly romantic setting, the dinner itself is nice.

Logan is awkward at first—not in a bad way, just in a Logan way. He doesn’t do small talk, and you can tell he’s still getting used to this whole… thing.

But then, as the evening goes on, the tension in his shoulders eases.

You start talking—really talking—and he starts listening.

You tell him about how you fell in love with baking. How, as a kid, you’d sit in your grandmother’s kitchen, watching her mix ingredients with practiced hands. How you saved every penny to open your own shop, how you still wake up every morning excited to do what you love.

And to your surprise, Logan opens up, too.

It’s not much—not at first. Just little pieces of himself, scattered through the conversation. How he’s been all over, seen more than most. How he likes Westchester more than he lets on. How, lately, he’s been feeling a little less like a drifter and a little more like he belongs.

The words are simple. But they settle warm in your chest.

Then dessert arrives—because, obviously, you can’t not have dessert.

It’s a shared plate of something rich and chocolatey, and Logan looks at it like it’s some kind of challenge.

“You don’t have to share,” you tease.

He raises a brow. “Oh, I know.”

But despite his gruffness, you do share—just passing bites back and forth, talking between mouthfuls, laughing when Logan grumbles about the tiny forks.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, you realize—

You’re having fun.

Not just the surface-level kind, but the real, deep kind. The kind that makes your heart feel full.

Then, after you both finish off the last bite of chocolate, Logan shifts in his seat.

He looks like he’s debating something.

Then, finally, he exhales.

“So… this was good.” His voice is rough, but his eyes are softer than usual. “The whole thing. You and me.”

Your heart does a little flip. “Yeah,” you say. “It was.”

Logan nods once, like he’s locking that truth into place. Then he clears his throat. “So, uh… maybe we do this again sometime?”

You smile.

Because of course you do.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I’d like that.”

And the look Logan gives you in return?

It’s the kind that makes you think this is the start of something good.

Dating Logan is easier than you expect.

Not in the sense that he suddenly turns into some smooth, lovesick romantic—God, no. He’s still gruff, still stubborn, still awkward as hell when it comes to some things.

But there’s something honest about him.

He doesn’t play games, doesn’t beat around the bush. If he wants to see you, he shows up. If he likes something you made, he tells you. If he’s had a rough day, he lets you see the tiredness in his eyes instead of covering it up with grumbles and sarcasm.

And as the weeks pass, “seeing Logan” becomes less about dates at fancy restaurants and more about something real.

Some nights, it’s dinner at a cozy little place in town, where he glares at overly complicated menus before ordering the simplest thing available.

Other nights, it’s takeout at your apartment above the bakery, curled up on the couch while you argue over what movie to watch.

Sometimes, he even helps you close up the bakery—wiping down tables (grumbling the whole time), locking up after your last customer, staying with you until the lights are off and the doors are locked.

And then, one evening, after he walks you upstairs, it happens.

The first kiss.

It’s not some grand, dramatic moment.

It’s just the two of you standing in your doorway, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. The night is quiet, the street below nearly empty. And when he looks at you—his expression just a little softer than usual—you realize you’re standing on the edge of something big.

Logan hesitates for half a second. Then—

He kisses you.

Slow, warm, deliberate.

And just like everything about him, it’s honest.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, pressed close, trading soft, lingering kisses between unspoken words. But eventually, when you pull back, Logan looks at you like he’s never letting this go.

And the best part?

Neither are you.

From that moment on, Logan starts spending more and more nights at your place.

It’s not planned—it just happens.

Some nights, he falls asleep on your couch, arms crossed, head tipped back, snoring softly. Other nights, you fall asleep on him, curled up against his side while the TV hums in the background.

And then, eventually, it stops being falling asleep by accident and starts being something else entirely.

You wake up together.

In the mornings, you find yourself wrapped in Logan’s warmth, tangled in soft sheets, your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

And Logan? For all his gruffness, he’s a cuddler.

You’d never say it to his face (not unless you want a grumbled response and an exaggerated eye roll), but once he’s asleep, he melts into you. A heavy arm slung around your waist, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns on your back.

And when you wake up and start moving, trying to slip away for the early bakery shift?

He grumbles, tightens his grip, and refuses to let you go.

Which is how, one morning, you end up exactly where you are now—trapped under Logan’s arm, pressed against his solid chest, while he pretends to still be asleep.

“Logan,” you murmur, shifting slightly. “I have to get up.”

He makes a low, half-asleep noise. “Mm. No, you don’t.”

You laugh softly. “Yes, I do. My customers want breakfast.”

“They can wait,” he grumbles.

You roll your eyes. “You are one of my customers.”

“Exactly. Tell ‘em all you’re busy with your best one.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “You are so dramatic.”

Logan smirks slightly but keeps his eyes closed.

You sigh, relaxing back into the warmth of him for just a few more moments.

Then, out of nowhere—

“Y’know,” you say idly, tracing a finger over his chest, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bake anything.”

Logan snorts. “That’s ‘cause I haven’t.”

You blink. “Wait. Ever?”

He huffs. “Nope.”

“Like, not even as a kid? Not even boxed brownies?”

“Darlin’, I burn toast.”

You gasp dramatically, sitting up. “This is a travesty.”

Logan groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Here we go.”

“I have to fix this,” you declare. “We’re going downstairs right now.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.”

And before Logan can argue any further, you grab his arm and drag him out of bed.

Ten minutes later, Logan is standing in your bakery kitchen, looking as out of place as a grizzly bear in a flower shop.

“This is a bad idea,” he says as you gather ingredients.

“This is a great idea,” you correct. “We’re keeping it simple. Sugar cookies.”

Logan exhales sharply. “You say simple, but I know how this ends.”

You smirk. “With delicious cookies?”

“With me screwin’ up so bad the oven catches fire.”

You laugh and hand him a mixing bowl. “I’ll make sure the fire extinguisher is close by.”

Logan groans but takes the bowl.

And, well… you were right.

Sort of.

The cookies don’t catch fire. But everything else is a disaster.

Logan somehow manages to spill flour everywhere. The egg doesn’t crack right. The dough is lumpy, and he absolutely refuses to use the heart-shaped cookie cutters.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbles, using a knife to chop the dough into rough squares instead.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tease, nudging flour at him with your fingertip.

He huffs. “Why’s bakin’ so much harder than cookin’?”

“Because baking is a science.” You grab his hand, guiding it as he presses the dough onto a tray. “You have to follow directions.”

Logan raises a brow. “You tryin’ to teach me how to follow orders?”

You grin. “Maybe.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull away.

By the time the cookies are in the oven, you’re both covered in flour. There’s dough on the counter, sugar on the floor, and Logan has somehow managed to get butter on his shirt.

It’s a mess.

But it’s also… fun.

Then, as you’re cleaning up, Logan suddenly reaches over—

And swipes flour across your cheek.

You gasp. “Logan.”

He smirks. “What?”

“You did not just—”

Before you can finish, you grab a handful of flour and smack it onto his chest.

His smirk drops.

You blink.

Silence.

Then—

Logan grabs an entire handful of flour and pats it onto the top of your head.

You shriek, laughing as he dodges your next attack, grabbing your wrists to stop you.

“You play dirty,” you accuse, breathless.

Logan grins. “Always.”

And then—before you can even think—he kisses you.

Flour-covered and laughing, lips brushing yours in a warm, lingering kiss.

You melt into it, into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

By the time you pull away, you’re breathless.

And Logan?

He just smirks. “Guess bakin’ ain’t so bad.”

You shake your head, smiling.

The cookies might be a disaster.

But this?

This is perfect.

Logan’s kiss is slow at first. Lazy. Like he’s savoring the moment.

But then you shift closer—pressing against him, your fingers gripping his shirt, the warmth of his body seeping into yours—

And that’s when things start to change.

Logan makes a low sound, something deep and satisfied, and suddenly his hands are at your waist, fingers flexing, pulling you in like he’s starving for you.

Your heart pounds as you kiss him back, heat curling in your stomach.

It doesn’t matter that you’re covered in flour. It doesn’t matter that the bakery kitchen is an absolute disaster.

All that matters is Logan—warm, solid, real.

You feel his hands slide up your back, fingertips pressing against your spine, and it sends a thrill through you. Your breath hitches as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss, his lips brushing yours in a way that makes your knees weak.

You don’t even realize you’re moving until your back bumps against the counter.

Logan doesn’t break the kiss. If anything, it just spurs him on—his hands gripping the edge of the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you between his body and the flour-dusted surface.

And God, you don’t mind.

You gasp softly as his lips trail down to your jaw, then your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Logan,” you murmur, tilting your head to give him more room.

He hums against your skin, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl—a low, rumbling sound that you feelmore than hear.

And you swear, if he keeps kissing you like this, you’re going to—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

You jolt.

Logan stills.

And for a full second, neither of you move—breathless, flushed, frozen in place as the loud, sharp beeping of the kitchen timer cuts through the moment.

Then, reality slams into you like a brick to the face.

“The cookies!”

You shove Logan away—not forcefully, but urgently—and scramble toward the oven.

Logan blinks, still catching up. “Wait—what?”

You don’t have time to answer. You grab an oven mitt, fling open the oven door, and—

A thick puff of smoke billows out.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh no,” you breathe.

Logan steps up behind you, peering over your shoulder. “That ain’t good.”

You groan, reaching in to pull out the tray. The cookies—if you can even call them that—are dark, charred, and completely ruined.

You set the tray down with a defeated sigh.

Logan crosses his arms, inspecting the damage. “Y’know… I don’t think that’s what they’re supposed to look like.”

You turn to him, exasperated. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying so hard not to laugh.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

Logan smirks. “I told you I was bad at this.”

You sigh dramatically. “It wasn’t just you! I got distracted.”

Logan raises a brow. “Did you, now?”

You cross your arms, giving him a look. “You know I did.”

Logan just grins.

And God help you, that grin—all smug and teasing and unfairly attractive—makes your stomach flip again.

You scowl, jabbing a finger at his chest. “This is your fault.”

Logan chuckles. “Oh, mine?”

“Yes.” You poke him again. “You and your stupid, distracting—”

Before you can finish, Logan grabs your wrist, tugs you forward, and kisses you again.

It’s fast, playful, over before you can even react—

But when he pulls back, the smirk on his face is even worse than before.

You huff. “You are impossible.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile.

Then you glance at the ruined cookies and sigh. “Well… at least we tried.”

Logan snorts. “Pretty sure we failed.”

You groan. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

Logan eyes them. Then, slowly, he reaches for one.

You watch in horror as he takes a bite.

There’s a long pause.

Then he chews.

Then he grimaces.

And finally—

He spits it out into the trash.

You burst into laughter.

“I told you they were ruined!” you say between giggles.

Logan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling. “That was awful.”

You’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe. “I cannot believe you actually tried it.”

Logan mutters something under his breath, but his lips are twitching like he’s trying not to laugh, too.

Then, suddenly—before you can react—he dips his fingers into the leftover flour and flicks some at you.

You gasp. “Logan!”

He smirks. “Payback.”

“Oh, you’re dead.”

And just like that, you’re both at it again—flour flying, laughter echoing through the kitchen, ruined cookies forgotten.

Eventually, when you’re both completely covered in flour and thoroughly exhausted, you collapse against the counter, panting.

Logan glances at you, brushing a bit of flour from your cheek with his thumb.

His touch lingers.

Your heart stutters.

Then he tilts his head slightly, voice lower now—soft, warm. “Y’know… I wouldn’t mind tryin’ again.”

You blink. “What? Baking?”

He nods. “If it means spendin’ more time with you? Yeah.”

And God help you, your heart does another stupid little flip.

You smile. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

Logan smirks. “We’ll see.”

And then he kisses you again—flour-covered, cookie-failed, and absolutely perfect.

[littelovelunette]

I love your page already omg

can you do classmates sevika x reader?

and a lil bit of jealousy too 👀

Mint ChapStick

anon... love... i don't know whether you want me to do smut or fluff sooooooo ima free style, if you wanna specify let me know

Highschool AU!

the bell to class was loud in the hallway jerking you out of your thoughts as you let out a tired sigh, getting up to start walking out of the classroom before you tripped over a fallen pencil and crashed into someone with muscles so hard it hurt

"yo! watch it." the other student yelled out making you groan nd rub your head.

"s-sorry, im a klutz," when you looked up your jaw was instantly on the floor you had crashed into sevika; she was a hot shot. a foreign exchange student with iron-like fists and a love for smoking. she had beaten up a guy so hard he remained in the hospital for days and the only reason she wasn't expelled for it was because she had valid reason for her actions claiming the guy had racially slurred at her

and although you didn't quite believe some random guy had the guts to insult her of all people, come on those muscles themselves looked threatening, you still found her so incredibly hot

"uh-huh, whatever." sevika grumbled before walking off, a little group seniors following her around like puppies

you let out a small sigh, we atleast she didn't bash your face in. you checked your timetable and saw that your next class was advanced maths.

ugh, great, differentiation. not something you were fond of but oh well let's just say you didn't quite enjoy the topic too much. as you made your way to the maths classroom, you were starting to get a little sleepy.

maybe you shouldnt have gotten up so early today morning to wash your darn hair, but what to do about it now? you walked in the class earlier than the class time so you could lay your head on the table and get some proper sleep.

the sound of the bell would wake you up, right? yeah probably

you put your head down and drowsed off the outside world just a dull buzz in your ear as you napped peacefully on the desk

you were woken with a deep, low yet rough voice calling out your name and almost violently shaking your shoulder. you woke with a start, scrambling and looking around just to face sevika sitting beside you, eyes narrowed as she stared at your groggy state.

"good morning sunshine," one of the classmates mocked, it was class time already and people were staring at you who'd been asleep on a desk...

sevika shook her head, taking her hand off your shoulder.

you couldn't help blush out of embarrassment and quickly pulled your hair down to cover your face as you faced your desk, averting your gaze low. the teacher chuckled, shaking his head and started with the lesson.

sevika had her arms crossed, leather jacket over her shoulder and barely cared enough to even wear her uniform properly. you watched her in awe at her guts for a while before sighing to yourself and facing your desk.

you didn't know sevika took advanced maths, it was a little admirable considering her... yknow, nature. she didn't seem like the patient kind. you watched from the corner of your eyes as sevika reached inside her bag, withdrawing a calculator.

maths class finished and you had barely understood the whole lesson because you've been staring at sevika for the whole time. you got up, trying to quickly put your things away for lunch time and dashed, bumping into sevika again.

the first time she'd let you be because she didn't think you were worth her time. but the second time? yeah, you're pushing it now.

she grabbed your wrist tightly, not crushing it — yet.

"you got a death wish or do you simply enjoy bumping into me, bunny?" sevika growled her voice low and rough

"s-s-sorry, I didn't- i... didn't mean to... im sorry," you stuttered out an apology, a small whimper issuing from your lips.

sevika rolled her eyes, "watch where you're going," she shoved your hands away with a scoff and slung her bag over her shoulder. you let out a small sigh, looking where she was standing. there was a chapstick on the ground. mint flavored chapstick... it was probably sevika's although she didnt look like the type to use chapstick.

you mentally noted that you had to return it to her and pocketed the chapstick, heading out of the classroom for lunch however you felt like you had lost your appetite. the ache in your wrist was dull but it was still there.

"where are you going?" your friend asks you after spotting you leaving the class

"well, sevika dropped her chapstick so im just going to the cafeteria and giving it back to her." you said with a small shrug

"sevika?... the sevika? are you insane?" she looked at you as if she'd seen a ghost

"no, just a good human being." you said with a roll for your eyes. to be fair you just wanted to see more of sevika

you walked to the cafeteria, the chattering of many students filling your ears. your eyes scanned over the numerous students and you spotted sevika at a far corner with her tight knitted group of friends. one of her lackeys were going on and on and on about something and she was staring into the distance barely listening.

this was it, you finally could have your moment and return the chapstick to her. it didn't seem like a lot but it was, considering how usually collected and cold sevika was to others.

"sevika."

part 2?

[wlwsoccerfics]

The ACL Chaos Roommates(KerstinCasparijXRuthBrownXJillRoordXCasparijReader)

Warnings: mentions of adhd, mental health, ACL injuries.

Summary: both you and your girlfriend Jill have done your ACL in the exact same Game. Only Like 20 minutes apart from one another so you and Jill move in with Kerstin and Ruth.

You and Jill both sat on the couch. She had her right knee resting on a pillow and while you had your left knee resting on a pillow. Holding hands with one another.

"you two manage to be adorable even while being injured!" Kerstin stated. You chuckle a bit.

"well our love keeps growing day by day!" You explained.

"i agree! It's been three years but i won't ever stop Loving her!"Jill stated. Ruth smiled as she walked over with your pain meds and two bottles of water.

"okay Love birds, time for your daily dose of pain meds!" She said. Handing you a bottle of water each.

"thanks Ruth!" You said with a small smile.

"yeah thanks Ruth!" Jill replied with a smile. You both take your pain meds before relaxing again.

"i have Physio come in today in around an hour to see how well surgery went and what i can and can't do." You told them. Biting down on your bottom lip. You were quite nervous. jill already had her visit from Physio Yesterday and she would start working with him in two days.

"you are worried. I can tell!" Kerstin stated.

"yeah i am! I mean this sucks! Not only will it take months to recover but we were supposed to plan our wedding for this year as well. But i don't plan on limping down the aisle!" You replied and sighed sadly.

"liefje, het komt goed!(love, it will be okay!)" Jill told you.

"Je weet dat ik niet iemand ben die heel geduldig is als het om mezelf gaat!(you know I am not someone that is very patient when it comes to myself!)" You answered.

"Je moet stoppen met jezelf onder druk te zetten.(you need to stop putting pressure on yourself.)" Your sister said, sighing softly.

"she is right. It's not good for your healing process to put so much pressure on yourself!" Ruth agreed with your sister. No surprise there.

"they are right, y/n!" Jill answered. Squeezing your hand gently. You squeeze her hand back.

"i know, i am sorry i will try to be patient with myself and the process. we can figure the wedding stuff out later!" You said softly. Kerstin smiled softly.

"that's a much better attitude right there, little sis!" She told you.

"i agree with Kerstin!" Your fiancee replied.

"okay, okay! I got it i need to work on my patience! Altough resting isn't in my blood! ADHD wants me to be active and not sit around an bore myself to death!" You stated and laughed a bit.

"which reminds me, did you take your meds?" Jill asked. You looked at her and then at your sister and Ruth.

"Uh No! I am sorry! I will take it now!" You told them and grabbed it from the Coffee table. Reading the Label to make sure it was yours cause you weren't the only one with adhd in this House. You quickly swallowed the pill with water.

"good Job!" Kerstin let you know.

"thanks!" You replied.

The Physio came in and looked at your wound from surgery. It was still quite swollen so you couldn't try much movement today. Only checking if you could wiggle your toes and little things like that. Jill's knee was healing alot better and you were thankful for that and happy for her. But also didn't like that you were behind on this. He would come Check on you in two more days before he was gonna start working with jill.

The three tried to cheer you up after hearing you needed to wait a bit longer but there was no use, you put on some Headphones and closed your eyes. Wanting to escape your reality in that moment. Not ready to talk. But still wanting to hold jill's Hand. So that's what you did. She gave yours a gentle squeeze every now and then. They waited until you were ready to talk. Which you were around 20 minutes later.

"i am ready to talk now. Sorry that i had to pull myself away for a bit. I needed to collect my thoughts and Feelings!" You told them.

"it's fine Love!" Jill said softly.

"yeah don't apologize for this! It's great that you can voice your needs!" Ruth answered.

"i agree! You used to let people Walk all over you and struggle with voicing your feelings! So i am proud of you for doing that now, little sis!" Kerstin told you. You smiled a little. It was funny when she called you little sis. You were twins after all. Not identical though. But she wasn't wrong. You were 15 minutes Younger then Kerstin was.

"thanks guys! You really are the best! I am really Happy for you Babe and Hope your recovery goes fast and well! I just hate that i always seem to be taking longer. It took me longer to start talking when we were Kids. Same with walking." You admitted.

"i hear you, y/n, i get why this Is frustrating! But this isn't a competition!" Kerstin said softly.

"you are right it isn't! It's still frustrating!" You replied.

"we are in this together ,Babe! Doesn't matter if i am starting Physio earlier! See it that way, you know what's coming because of me starting earlier!" Your fiancee told you.

"okay that's a good point you got there!" You admitted.

Two days later Jill went to the training grounds for therapy. And you joined her. You also got the go now. But still had to be more careful then Jill. Which was fine though. You were just happy you could start with getting back onto your feet.

[chrissssssmut]

YANDERE Winter from aespa being a friendly schoolmate, sees Karina being a little kind to you day by day as you become friends, before Winter goes berserk calling Karina a b*tch (lowkey could torture or k*ll her, would be kinda hot ngl), before Winter goes and dominates your world, warning you to love her and only her always.

👀

BENEATH THE SMILE

Yandere Winter x Male Reader feat. Karina

AN: Okay so this might be the last one I am writing for this week. I am super exhausted 😆😭. I literally wrote this after making the An Yujin one XD. Enjoy!🙏♥️

Winter had once been Edenvale Academy’s golden student. Everyone knew her as the sweet, caring girl who always went out of her way to help others. She was a shining example of kindness, always with a smile, always ready to lend a hand. If a classmate struggled with homework, Winter would offer to tutor them. If someone was feeling down, she was the first to comfort them. Her reputation was flawless, and her charm was unmatched. She made people feel seen, heard, and appreciated.

But as time went on, something began to change in her. At first, it was subtle. A tiny flicker of irritation when she noticed Karina talking to you a bit too much. Winter, the kind girl who’d once been praised for her selflessness, found herself gritting her teeth at the sight of Karina laughing at your jokes.

It was only a few months ago that Winter had smiled brightly at you and asked how your day had been, her voice warm and inviting. “Did you understand the math problem from class today? If you didn’t, I could help you after school,” she’d offered, her eyes full of kindness.

You had gratefully accepted, eager to get her assistance.

But now, those smiles felt like they were painted on. Her kindness was becoming suffocating, almost possessive. And it all started when Karina started spending more time with you.

“Hey, are you going to the school event tomorrow?” Winter asked one afternoon, her tone light but her eyes narrowing slightly when she saw Karina approach you.

“I was thinking about it,” you replied, glancing at Karina who was standing just a few feet away. Karina smiled at you, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Winter’s voice suddenly became sharper, though she tried to mask it with forced cheer. “You know, Karina’s always so sociable. I think she’ll be there for sure.” Her eyes flickered toward Karina, lingering just a moment too long. “You know, she really enjoys the attention, doesn’t she?”

Karina blinked, taken aback by the implication. “What do you mean by that?”

Winter’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a coldness creeping into her voice. “Oh, nothing. Just that she’s always so eager to be around you. But then again, I guess she always has been, huh?”

You, not understanding where this was coming from, tried to smooth things over. “I think we’re all just friends here, Winter.”

Winter’s smile grew tighter, her grip on her bag a little too firm. “Oh, I’m sure,” she said. But her voice dropped, low and almost mocking, “But some people don’t always know their place, do they?”

As the days passed, Winter’s mood became more unpredictable. She no longer walked through the halls with that radiant smile. Instead, her steps were heavy, her eyes always darting to where Karina was. If you and Karina exchanged a glance or a laugh, Winter’s face would twist, her lips curling into a smile that never quite reached her eyes.

It all came to a head one day after lunch, when she caught Karina talking to you in the courtyard.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that essay. You really did an amazing job on it,” Karina said, leaning in a little closer to you as she spoke. You could see her giving you a flirty smile.

Winter, watching from a distance, felt her blood boil. She stormed over to the two of you, her footsteps loud against the concrete.

“Oh, you two seem close,” she said sweetly, her voice almost saccharine as she slid between you and Karina, wrapping her arm around your shoulders possessively. “What’s going on here?”

Karina looked at her, confused by the sudden tension. “We were just talking about the essay. It was a lot of work, but I think we’ve got it figured out.”

Winter’s grip tightened on your shoulder, a smile still plastered on her face. “Really?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Funny, because I don’t remember you being all that interested in essays before.”

Karina’s brow furrowed, sensing the shift in Winter’s tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Winter leaned in, her face too close to Karina’s, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “It means that I see what you’re doing. Trying to worm your way into his life. But it’s not going to work.”

Karina blinked, shocked by the words. “What are you talking about?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Winter’s gaze flickered to you, and she smiled. “He’s mine. And if you think you can just take him, you’re sadly mistaken.”

That night, Winter put her plan into motion. She approached Karina with an innocent smile, her eyes wide with mock concern. “Hey,” Winter said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’ve been thinking about what happened earlier. Maybe I overreacted. I just got caught up in my feelings.” Her voice was sweet, almost apologetic.

Karina, ever the forgiving person, smiled back. “It’s alright, Winter. I get it. I was a little forward. It won’t happen again.”

Winter’s smile became unsettling. “Actually, I was thinking… maybe we could hang out tonight? Just the two of us. I could really use a night to catch up.”

Karina, who had no idea what was coming, agreed. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

And so, she showed up at Winter’s house later that evening, unaware of what awaited her.

When Karina stepped through the door, everything went dark.

The next thing she knew, she was tied to a chair, her head throbbing from a blow to the back of her skull. She could barely make out the shape of Winter standing in front of her, her once gentle smile now twisted into something cold and calculating.

“Winter?” Karina gasped, fear creeping into her voice. “What is this?”

Winter crouched down in front of her, her hands gently brushing Karina’s hair back. “Oh, Karina,” she cooed mockingly. “You should’ve stayed away. I’ve been patient. But now you’ve pushed me too far.”

“Winter, what the hell are you doing?!” Karina shouted, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and confusion. “Let me go!”

Winter tilted her head, her eyes dark with menace. “No. You don’t get to play innocent anymore. You’ve been trying to steal him from me for weeks, and now it’s time to teach you a lesson.”

She grabbed Karina’s face with an iron grip, squeezing her cheeks painfully, forcing her to look into her eyes. “I’ve tried to be nice, Karina. But now you’re just a problem. A problem I’m going to get rid of.”

Karina’s heart raced, her eyes filling with tears. “Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I never wanted any of this.”

Winter laughed, but it was hollow, devoid of the warmth she once exuded. “It’s too late for that now.”

Meanwhile, you were left bewildered. Karina had suddenly cut ties with you, leaving you with a dozen questions and no answers. You called her, desperately asking what had happened. But all you received was silence. Your confusion turned to worry, so you did what anyone would do: you asked her for her location.

When Winter answered her phone, her voice was eerily calm. “She’s with me,” Winter said, sounding almost pleased with herself. “You should come here, see for yourself what happens when you let someone get too close.”

“Winter, where is she? What’s going on?” you demanded, trying to make sense of everything.

Winter’s voice softened, but there was a strange edge to it. “Just come here. It’s time you understood who belongs with you.”

You rushed to Winter’s house, your stomach in knots. The door was unlocked when you arrived, and you entered, calling out for Karina. The silence was deafening.

When you stepped further inside, you heard Winter’s soft voice behind you. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered, sending a chill down your spine.

A sharp pain seared through your side as she pressed a knife against you, a harsh reminder of what she was capable of. “Now you’ll see the truth,” Winter murmured. “You belong to me.”

She led you toward Karina, whose face was streaked with tears and bruises. As she tied you up beside her, Winter’s touch was possessive, claiming you in front of Karina.

“You see, Karina?” Winter sneered. “He’s mine. And now you’ll never get him.”

Karina sobbed, her voice barely a whisper. “Winter, please, just let us go…”

Winter’s eyes gleamed with delight as she turned to you. “You promised, didn’t you? You said you’d stay with me.”

You nodded, your heart heavy with the weight of your words. “I promise. I’ll stay.”

With that, Karina was freed, but not without a warning. If she ever spoke of what had happened, Winter would kill both of you.

At school, life went on. The students whispered about how perfect Winter and you were as a couple. How everyone envied your relationship, wishing they could find someone like Winter—someone so kind, so devoted, so perfect. They had no idea about the darkness that lurked beneath her smile, and you could only watch silently, knowing the truth.

As you walked down the hall one day, you overheard a group of students talking near the lockers.

“I’m so jealous of them,” one girl said, her voice dreamy. “Winter and him, they’re like the perfect couple. So cute together.”

“I know! They’re always so lovey-dovey,” another girl replied with a giggle. “I wish I had someone like him. He’s so sweet, and Winter’s just the perfect girlfriend. They seem like a fairytale.”

Another student chimed in. “Ugh, I wish I had that kind of relationship. They’re just so… perfect. I can’t even imagine what it’d be like to have someone care about you like that.”

You could hear the envy and admiration in their voices, oblivious to the truth behind Winter’s twisted version of love.

And as you passed by, your eyes met Karina’s. She looked away quickly, her expression full of silent pain. You could only offer a look of regret, knowing that the world would never know the truth about what happened to you both.

And Winter? She stood beside you, her grip on your arm tight, a smile that hid a thousand secrets.

[redheadspark]

Azriel

character a is getting nursed back to health when they realize they’re in love with the person nursing them to health— or, that they in fact love someone else

A/N - This is great! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Heal

Summary - You were healed in the night by someone you did not expect

Warnings - Fluff!

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better, thank you Madja,”

“I figured you would be on the mend, just not this soon.  Your recovery must be some kind of record,”

You hummed as Madja was becking your pulse with her wrist, the rest of her body was still with her medicine bag perched on the nightstand and opened half-hazard.  Her tools were out and about, herbs stuffed in vials and potions labeled and half full along the top of the nightstand as well as gauze stained in dried blood and semi-wet towels thrown on the floor.  There is clear evidence of your previous night and what you went through to heal.

Last night was hell for you, literal hell since you were on the brink of death.

The Battle was long and torturous, King Hybern was threatening the lives of all the Courts and all the lives that were lost in the shuffle.  As a member of the Inner Circle and Mor’s sister, you were in the fight to help your people and your Court.  It was such an easy decision for you to jump into the fight, even with the hesitation of the Inner Circle.  Not that you didn’t know how to fight, you were trained in fighting since you left the Night Court with your twin sister in tow.  Both of your childhoods were filled with hate and pain and anger, thanks to your family and what they inflicted on you both.  Mor got the worst of it, the abuse she was was enough for you to leave with her to Night Court to find peace again.

You found it, after some time of healing and making a new life with your twin at your side.  Being with your cousin who was the High Lord, you found that safety you’ve always wanted.  After Rhysand came his two childhood friends: Illyrian Commander Cassian with his boyish charm and playful nature.

And the Spymaster and Shadowsinger: Azriel

You two grew to each other like moths to a flame.  Perhaps it was your gentler nature compared to your twin that made Azriel comfortable with you, or maybe it was your kindness that seemed to spew out of your pore, but a friendship with you was naturally growing.  You found him to be kind and less of a terror than others said for him to see not to mention a fan of some of the books you are reading and going on long walks with you to get to know you.  He loved hearing about your interests and the pair of you joking about the others, which in return made you get feelings for him over time.

His protectiveness, loyalty to your cousin and Night Court, his handsomeness that shone even in the night, his smile that would melt any icy heart, plus much more.  Yet deep within you felt like he was merely a few inches away from you, a bit too far that you could not reach him.  Maybe it was because he worked for your cousin and had a massive job on his shoulders, or that your own twin was weary of you being so vulnerable with someone else.

But you couldn’t help it, you were in love with him.

Still, you had a duty to your Court, to protect it and its citizens.  Which was when you asked Azriel to teach you how to fight.  Your own father never let you learn since it was the place for a female.  Mor defied him on her own, though you were more hesitant to go against him.  Now that you weren’t with your father, you wanted to know how not just to fight but to defend yourself in a time of need.  Azriel, tough bit reluctant with the notion of you ever being in the line of danger, showed you enough to get your hands dirty and also have skills under your belt.  You were thankful for him showing you how to defend, though it could have been more of an excuse for you to be closer to him. 

Maybe it was, and maybe you were falling harder for him all the more.

“You are lucky,” Madja explained as she looked at some of the wounds that were still along your neck and your arms, her trained eyes were fixed on the discoloring where you were hurt, “Some of these could have been fatal.”

“How so?” You asked in curiosity.

“This one,” Madja said with a pointed finger to the deep wound on your arm, “An inch to the left would have hit an artery and you’d bled to death on the field.  There was poison in your bloodstream when the Shadowsinger brought you here,”

Last night was a bit fuzzy: One minute you were slicing through some of the soldiers who were in front of you with ease.  The next minute you were stabbed and you felt so much pain that it made you cry out.  The pain was all over you, inside and out. Almost blinding, like you were lowered in a roaring fire, and as your sword fell from your hand and you fell to the ground ground, the last thing you saw before you passed out was Azriel.

Who was rushing to you and attempting to call out your name?

“He was here tending to you all night,” Madja explained as you looked from your wound to her in shock.  That was news to you, then again you were out cold from the moment you passed out on the field to when you woke you earlier that morning.  Mor was with you when you woke, tears were in her eyes as you blinked at her slowly and she hugged you gently.  Thankful her twin and better half were alive again, even with her twin being pale and looking like hell while encased with pillows and satin sheets.  Between those times was fuzzy for you, almost like you were stuck between dream and reality.  

Mor told you that you were a lucky bitch to be alive and you were not allowed to die on her again, to which you agreed but you asked her more about what happened.  She filled you in with everything: Rhysnad nearly dying but was saved by Feyre, Cassian almost losing his wings from a brutal attack, King Hubert losing his head to the Archeron sisters, it was all to drink it and yet seemed like a fantasy.  But in the end, the Courts were safe, Night Court was safe and well again.  

You were sad to have missed it, but grateful to be alive.

“Azriel…he helped me?” You asked sheepishly.  Madam hummed as she moved to her potions and herbs, placing a few leaves into a bowl to grind into a paste and then adding a few drops of her potions into the bowl to thicken the paste.

“He was here from the moment you were placed in this bed until this morning when I arrived,” She explained, painting some of the paste on your wound with her fingers as you were listening intensely to what she had to say, “He would not leave your side for a moment.  I was swamped with the sound back at the battlefield the I could not come and tend to you.  Thankfully the Spymaster had some knowledge in keeping you alive.  You wouldn’t have been in worse condition if it wasn’t for him,”

You tried to picture it in your mind, Azriel at you’d side like a wet nurse and making sure you were safe.  It felt like it was not in his nature at all, his patience or lack of did not fit in your mind.  You were thinking of excuses: he had other things to do, he had to make sure security was well taken care of for Night Court, he had to help the Illyrian soldiers who were hurt.

But no matter how many excuses you were thinking of, they didn’t matter.  He stayed with you.  All night. And keeping you alive.

What did happen, while you were passed out in exhaustion and in pain, was Azriel, in fact, tending to you.  He filled a bowl of water to wash off most of the dirt and grim still caked on you, dressed the wounds that he could with ease, and tried to lessen the wounds that were a bit more hazardous.  Perched over you in candlelight, his eyes never left you and his attention never waved.  Even when Feyre carefully brought in food for him to eat and Mor sat with him for a few moments before she too left for bed, Azriel was still tending to you as if it was just the pair of you in the world.

He watched him in the wee hours of the morning as you slept, seeing your chest rise and fall, how your hair was braided to the side thanks to Mor and her skilled fingers in your locks, he did think of you as beautiful.  Azriel too and feelings for you, from the moment you met her and Mor so long ago. When Mor was a spitfire you were a calm breeze, your smile lit any room you walked into, your eyes reminded him of the seas high above on a moonless night, and the way you made him feel loved with your gestures and words. 

He fell for you hard, and Azriel was afraid of living in a world without you.

“There, you should be on the mend for now,” Madja explained as she was finishing her pastern your wound before she started to pack her medicine bag, “Now, I want you in bed for the best of the day to going your strength back.  I’ll make sure you get your meals and the proper rest that you need.”

You were about to thank her when there was a knock at the door.  Both you and Madja looked, seeing a head poke into the room.  You beamed, seeing it was none other than Azriel there with a soft look on his face.  Your heart was beating so fast from the sight of him, now knowing that he was with you all night to make sure you would stay alive.  

That flutter in your chest was on overdrive.  

“I wanted to bring you breakfast since I knew you were awake,” He explained, coming into the room a bit more to show that he was carrying a tray filled with breakfast food.  A coffee cup with steaming coffee, buttered toast with scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon, it all looked perfect.  But you were mostly focusing on Azriel who was looking rather happy to see you awake.  Madam chuckled as she grabbed her bag in hand.

“Well done keeping her alive, Shadwosinger.  You would have been a good Healer if you weren’t working for our High Lord,” She commented Azriel blushing from the compliment while she walked to the door, “Just keep her in bed for now, you can handle that, can you?”

Azriel nodded as she slipped out of the room, leaving the two of you alone in the room.  You were watching one another, fondness filled the room like a mist.  It felt like a page was tuned in your book, in your life, where he was intertwined.  Love there was, fizzling under your skin as he smiled at you and nodded once. 

“Hello,” He hummed.

“Hi,” You replied.  And as he watched you eat your breakfast, it was a permanent shift that would forever change the pair of you for the rest of your lives.  Especially since you two would be married within the next year and let your love blossom from there.

The End

[sunrisecaminus]

Ratchet x Sick Reader

Summary - Human Reader gets sick with something terrible and Ratchet takes care of you like the little sweetheart he is.

Warning - Vomiting (Only once)

Type of Fic - Comfort

You have been sick for about two days now. It was light coughing, runny nose, headaches, the normal small symptoms of a cold. It was winter, so you were ready for something like this and is right now wearing a mask while shopping for clothes. You didn't want to take any chances accidentally coughing on someone, so you bought a cheap mask to give people a chance to avoid you. Ratchet looked up a bunch of stuff and knew you weren't in any danger so everything was ok right now. Honestly, you were happy that the bots weren't worried about you. Having Chicken noodle soup for lunch, relaxing on Ratchet's shoulder and drawing sketches. Letting Ratchet have the kids not touch or get close to you was funny. You still can recall him shooing them away like bugs, you couldn't help but laugh. Looking in the clearance section, you have been finding some good deals and put them in your arms. Finally leaving after paying for your lovely clothes, you walk yourself over to the base which was a few miles away. Being in such a small town, you were used to walking far distances because how spaced everything is from each other. It wasn't snowing or windy, so thankfully you were able to walk on the sidewalk without feeling worse than you already were. The scenery was lovely too, the inch of snow around on the ground and the lovely few rare trees around the area with no leaves standing still.

No one is around you. It was just you and the road, so you took off your mask and breathed in the nice cold air. That was when you felt something in your stomach, something that made you ache. You confusingly hold your stomach a bit and felt a bit weird…couldn't be from lunch. All you had was chicken and noodles, you didn't eat anything raw. All of a sudden, you puke all over the snow. You can't control your body as you bend down on the sidewalk and feel yourself shaking, vulnerable after the horrible event that just happened. Being close by to the base, you honestly didn't want to call anybody. Your throat was now hurting like crazy, breathing and trying to speak made the pain worse so you tried not to speak the whole way.

Ratchet was working at his desk when he hears small footsteps coming from the entrance. He turns to see you groggily walking, wet from the snow, and your plastic bag dripping a little of water. Before he could say something to you, he smelled an awful smell coming from your body as you flop yourself on the ground, your legs weak and your hair a mess. "Y/n?!" He rushes over and scans you, already messaging June in seconds on his comm that he needed her here. "H-hey Ratch-ow." He sees that you hold your neck from the pain, wincing and shut your mouth before you complete the sentence. June was already at the base with Jack so she quickly ran from the railing and starts to check on your body. "This isn't a cold. It might be something serious, where were you for the past few days? Miko go to her room and grab her some extra clothes, I can smell throw up." Miko nods and ran to your room immediately to grab something nice for you. Ralph and Jack ran over and watched June clean you up with a towel. You didn't know what could have given you this horrible mess. Unless…"My work just got a new storage of materials to make stuff. I don't know much of it but the air wasn't clear at all when we were unloading the truck."

…

You have been laying on the couch for about a day. Ratchet kept a close optic on you and kept you company while Darby went to investigate what you had. You have been coughing and hacking for a while, and your throat has gotten worse after a few hours of waking up. You couldn't eat anything as well and Ratchet kept begging you to eat something. "Miko made sandwiches…" Ratchet put a plate on the coffee table and you glared at it, turning your body around to cover your face as a motion to the Doc that you were not hungry still. "Y/n, you have not eaten anything after lunch yesterday. Eat!" Both of you were stubborn as you groaned at him, feeling his giant digit poking you on the back to get you up. Finally after a few minutes, you turned and grabbed his pointer finger before he could retract, hugging him. Ratchet could not believe how weak you were. He has never seen you so sick. Your arms holding his digit felt like you weren't even hugging him. The feeling of wanting to protect you increased and he gently puts you in his hand and cradles your small body. "Hey…I know it sucks, but you are probably starving. You need to eat something or you will get worse. Please y/n." You looked up at him with watery eyes, you were already tired of this horrible illness you have and didn't want to be hurting anymore. Your breath didn't sound clear either when you breathed. Ratchet hears a small whisper. "I'll do it…for you." He blushed a bit in the cheeks when you said that and grabbed a plate. Seeing you slowly eat was such a relief in his eyes, giving a small smile (at least the best smile this doctor can give) when he saw Darby angrily ending a call on the phone with papers in hands. She walks up to you two and shows Ratchet the folder. "She has something called Bagassosis. It is a horrible sickness that is created from breathing in dust, specifically a type of sugar that is used to make cardboard. If not treated, it could get worse and become chronic…meaning she will feel pain and cough for years. Thankfully there was good results when taking medication so I already have the bottle." She looks over at you and hands a pill. "Take it, and we just have to wait for your body to except it or reject it. Please tell me or Ratchet if you feel worse after."

You didn't care, you grabbed the pill and looked at the bottle. Damn it was steroids, you didn't know this was that serious. Taking the pill, you kept eating the sandwich and drank water. Leaning against Ratchet's servo, you clenched your hand one his thumb, not wanting to let go of him. Ratchet feels your motion and that is what made him realize he wasn't going to be able to get back to work today. He knows, he wasn't going to let go of you. In his processor, he had a patient in his servos, clinging and begging for his attention, and he was going to give his full attention. Ratchet loved and cared for you, he wasn't going to leave you cold on the couch during your recovery. The only work he would do, for the days you were recovering, was only reading reports from missions and maybe a few check ups here and there. You would always be with him, sleeping on his desk, his hands, sitting on his shoulder, and maybe even sleeping in his berth if he was on missions. The only motivation this mech had was to come home to you intact to give you the love you needed with his support. Three days goes by after the puking event, and you feel so much better with the prescription you were taking everyday. The only thing now that was still not fully treated was your throat and breathing problem. You weren't weak anymore, and your head was ok, but your breathing sounded terrible and talking still kind of hurt a bit. Grabbing some pencils, you go into Ratchet's blanket and start to draw Ratchet in his vehicle mode. It has been a while since Ratchet gave you so much care and love, maybe you should have another life or death situation…no never mind that would be horrible. You hear the door opening to Ratchet's birth as familiar footsteps walk inside. "…Y/n?" Ratchet sees you poke your head out cutely from out of his blankets and show your drawing of him. He looks closely at it and smiles. "Awe thanks sweetspark." He sets his medical bag down and goes into the bed, letting you crawl up to his neck and ready to take a nap with him. "I can't stay here forever, I have work to do y/n." He pats your head while talking. You cling to his digits again and give a smirk. "Never."

[daylighted]

Heyy could u do another part of baby!reader but maybe having dean telling Sam who she is

oh don't mind if i do ! baby!reader is quickly becoming so famous to me in my head she's lovely n i'm so glad u guys adore her too <3 prequel to this & sequel to this!!

it'd been a bit awkward, having to explain why he'd had to walk miles upon miles to get back to the motel where sam was waiting. why he'd brought a literally naked you along with him, who he'd very humbly given his jeans to so you didn't get a chill. or kidnapped. carnapped?

whatever. dean still didn't know, exactly, what to do.

sam was outside of the motel room, probably having gone out to keep an eye out for dean's arrival. he was a worrier like that, and dean didn't tend to make it very easy for him when he left for an easy witch hunt and didn't come back for nearly an hour and a half.

"where's baby?" he asks when dean is close enough, damn near winded because of the nonstop walking, and because you hadn't really offered up your watered down diner coca-cola to him. after all he'd done for you, too? his jeans?

dean opens his mouth to answer, and instead, your voice perks up. "i'm here!"

sam blinks, and then blinks thrice more times, like he'd only just processed the sight in front of him. dean, pantsless. you, shirtless, in his big jeans that he'd heard jangling every two seconds when you yanked them up.

his mouth closes. opens. closes. dean grimaces. "helluva night it's been, sammy."

"who's this?"

you are a spitfire of a thing. dean always knew it. you always seemed to talk back to him when he kept driving past the low fuel ding, as he so often did on the infinite miles he'd racked up on you. sounds weird now, thinking about all these little details about you, when none of it applied anymore. car logic was not equivalent to human anatomy.

so he barely flinches, especially after the last two hours with you, when you say, "i'm baby." you fish around in the leather pockets of the jacket you'd gotten in your... tune up? dean didn't fucking know. you pull out wads and wads of straw wrappers that he'd tried to tuck away in the glovebox, keeping his mess to, visibly, a minimum. "look. dean's mess."

"hey." dean swats your hand lightly, snatching a stray dollar bill that fell out with the crumpled straw wrappers. "no littering."

sammy puts his hands up, as if he could physically pause this. "you're baby."

"i'm baby!" you sound ecstatic now, even though you look so damn exhausted. maybe a nap would equate to an oil change. dean really, seriously, could not keep thinking on this tonight. he was damn exhausted too.

sam scoffs out a little laugh, the dimples poking into his cheeks. "no way."

"witch said, 'would you still love your car so much if she was a girl', turned her to ash, came back out of the woods ready to get the hell out of dodge, and..." dean trails off, gesturing to you, gnawing on the straw of his drink. "here was baby."

sam's face must look exactly like dean's did, when you'd ran right up to him. dean couldn't have imagined himself looking anything less than utterly, completely, baffled. "this is a development."

"yeah."

you start to walk past sam, striding up to the motel room door like you already knew which it was, and maybe you did. dean didn't know at all what abilities came with going from a car to a girl.

you turn so quickly that the edges of your jacket splay open, and dean has never averted his gaze so quick. must have been genetic, because sam, too, was suddenly very interested in the starless sky and the three leaves left hanging onto the winter branches of the scattered trees.

"someone let me in." you bang on the door with your fist, already staring expectantly at dean when he deems it safe to look back down at you. "we're locked out."

sam's smile is somehow more grimace than dean's. "i've got a key."

"so use it." you're gnawing on that straw again. dean has got to get a fucking grip and stop watching your mouth.

"you're a mouthy little thing, baby," dean grumbles, moving past sam to fumble around for his own key. "weren't half as mouthy when you were a car and did whatever i'd say."

the door pushes open, revealing a dingy motel room with two beds. two. and a little armchair propped in the corner like a joke.

"i'd still do whatever you say." it catches dean off guard, somewhat, because he's spent long enough with you, one-on-one, to know that you were stiffly incapable of lying. you were helpless to anything but to tell the facts.

you drop down onto one of the beds, sprawled out across the mattress like you own it, and dean knows without even needing to ask that he's going to end up in that armchair. because he sure as hell cannot sleep next to you, when you were pretty, and he couldn't stop looking at your mouth, and would do whatever the hell he said, somehow, you were his car.

sam pats him on the shoulder. "when's this changing back?" he asks, low enough that you can't hear him over the sound of you bouncing on the bed, now.

dean sighs, nose bridge pinched between his two fingers. "not soon enough. if ever."

his nod is slow, and far too amused for dean to handle, right then, so he steps around him to make himself at home in the armchair, his bed for, probably, the next eternity, when it came to motel rooms. sunglasses over his eyes and everything.

"what are you doing?"

dean pushes the glasses up. "goin' to bed."

sam has made himself comfortable without question in the other bed. bastard.

"that's stupid. you can sleep with me. you always used to fall asleep in me." you sound so damn sweet when you say it that dean resists the laugh. barely, but it counts.

it isn't until sam starts cackling that dean breaks. he looks over at you, the little confused sheepishness on your face so damn endearing, and he forces the laughter back down, in its place an equally gentle smile.

"okay, baby," he says, silently glad that you'd offered, crediting it all to the fact that the chair was uncomfortable as hell, and not to the fact that he'd secretly been hoping for the invitation, "but don't expect any damn cuddling or something."